“I said goodbye,” he murmurs, sparking the lighter again. “There’s a note on the last page of your journal.”
I back-burner the discussion we’re going to have about about invasion of privacy and take a few steps closer to him, wincing as my bare feet move over the rough ground. He hears my soft exhale of pain and lifts his eyes to mine.
I gasp at the sight. His face is a mess of swelling and bruises. His left cheekbone is turning black and blue. His bottom lip is split and twice its normal size. His nose looks more crooked than I remember. But it’s his eyes that scare me the most. They’re totally devoid of hope. They’re completely…haunted.
“Oh, Ryder,” I whisper, taking another step.
“You should go back inside.” His voice is flat as he stubs out the cigarette with his boot heel. “It’s late and you’re not dressed.”
“So that’s it, huh?”
He’s silent.
I feel tears starting to gloss my eyes and fight them back with every shred of self-control I possess. “This is the goodbye I get? After everything?”
“What do you want from me, Felicity?” His voice breaks on my name and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear he’s close to breaking down. “I don’t have anything left to give you.”
“Because you’re leaving,” I say softly.
He looks up sharply and I see I’m not wrong — his eyes are glossy in the darkness.
“Because I’m leaving,” he echoes in a shattered voice.
Heavy silence descends on us. The only sound is the wind as it stirs pieces of litter into small vortexes along the alley floor. I shift from foot to foot, crossing my arms over my chest.
“You look terrible,” I say bluntly.
A dark grin twists his lips, a mere shadow of his usual charm. “Thanks.”
With a sigh, I close the final few steps between us and sink down onto the step by his side, purposefully banging my shoulder hard against his — a collision designed to shake him from this stupor. He glances over at me, eyebrows raised. I think I see a flicker of amusement in the depths of his eyes.
“What was that for?”
“Trying to leave without saying goodbye.”
“I’m sorry.” He blows out a breath. “I thought it would be easier if…”
“If you just disappeared? Forgive me if I don’t share your opinion on that.”
“I thought about knocking. Waking you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
The lighter in his fingers flickers to life again. He doesn’t meet my gaze. “I worried if I saw you, if I spent the night… I might not be able to get on that plane tomorrow. I might not be able to let you go.”
I suck in a sharp breath. “Ryder…”
He turns to me and, with a gentleness I’ve never seen from him before, slowly reaches out and tugs the elastic from the end of my braid. All I can do is try to keep breathing as his fingers sink into the thick plait, unravelling it with methodical focus. When my hair is free, hanging around my body in a thick curtain, he runs his palms from the crown of my head all the way to the ends that curl at my biceps. A single, reverent caress before he pulls away, hands clenching into fists, expression going blank. As if that small touch is all he’ll allow himself.
I sense a goodbye hovering in the air between us. Looming like a specter in the dark.
No. Not yet.
Don’t leave me yet.
“You know,” I murmur. “For someone who just got everything he ever wanted, you look pretty miserable.”
“Not everything,” he murmurs back after a prolonged beat of silence.