“I care.”
His voice is low with restraint. I can still feel the evidence of his passion pressed against me like iron, and I know what it costs him to pull back.
“Ryder…”
“Tell me you’re mine, Felicity.”
Some of the haze clears as I stare up at him, head foggy from his touch, lips swollen from his kisses. “I…”
“Promise me, if we do this, you aren’t going to run again.” I’ve never heard him sound so serious. He’s almost somber, his eyes grave and guarded. “Promise me you’ll stay.”
My throat tightens. My fingers grasp him closer even as I say the words I know will drive him away.
“I can’t promise you that.”
His face shutters, a stoic expression not quite masking the pain I see in his eyes. His hands drop to his sides, so he’s no longer holding me. His tone, when he gets himself under control enough to speak, is almost guttural, brimming over with longing and hurt.
“You love me. I know you do. You can’t kiss me like that and act like it’s nothing.”
“I never said it was nothing. It’snotnothing,” I insist, trying to pull him back to me. He doesn’t budge — he’s an uncompromising statue beneath my hands. I stop tugging at him, feeling my words falter at the look in his eyes. “This… you and me… It’s the opposite of nothing. It’severything.”
He stares at me warily as I reach up and trace my name in ink across his skin. I can feel his heart thundering beneath my fingertip. His eyes press closed, as though he’s trying to hold himself in check. I fight back tears, trying to do the same.
Head, shaking.
Heart, breaking.
“You asked me what I feel when I look at you?” My whisper sounds like a wail. “That’s the problem. Everything I feel is tangled up in memories and musical notes, in pill bottles and painful goodbyes. In secrets and lies and broken promises. I can’t sort it out in my head. Not yet. There’s so much still left unresolved between us, Ryder.” A tear rolls down my cheek, but I force myself to say the rest, knowing full well I’m condemning us both to more misery. “And even if we can find a way to move forward, pick out a path through the wreckage of our past… Our fundamental problems haven’t changed. You and I want different things. Different lives. We always have.”
“All I want isyou.” His voice breaks. “Fuck the rest, Felicity. Tell me you’re mine and we’ll figure it out as we go. Tell me you’re in this, and I promise, we’ll make it work.” His eyes soften, just for a moment, and I see the love shining bright beneath the anger. “For once in your life, baby… don’t run. Stand and fight with me.”
My heart is thundering. In that moment, I want to do as he says. I want, so very much, to lean forward and crush my lips to his. To declare the allegiance of my heart from this moment until our last. To tell him nothing matters — not who we are, not where we’re headed.
Only us. Only this.
Him and me.
No past, no future.
I watched my mother live that life, tying her existence to a man who destroyed her, telling herself nothing else mattered, so long as she had him. I watched that choice ruin her, day by day. Watched her put herself in the crosshairs of despair and willingly take every bullet, so long as she could keep him.
I’m not that girl.
I can’t be.
Not now.
Not ever.
Ryder sees the answer on my face before the words find their way out of my mouth. His face closes down, hope vanishing in an instant.
“I can’t make that promise, Ryder. Not now. Not completely. Not before I know this is real, that it’s right—that it’s not just a residual hope we’re both harboring for a life we almost lived, or a fantasy that’s going to lead us both to more pain, when it falls apart again.”
“Bullshit.” The word flies from of his lips with vehemence. “You’ve had two years to sort out that emotional tangle. Two years of space and time to figure out what you want.” He laughs without a trace of humor, eyes flashing with pain. “You know exactly how you feel about me, Felicity. And it fucking terrifies you.”
“Ryder—”
“The truth is, you don’twantthis to be real. Because if it’s real, you won’t have an excuse to keep pushing me away. You won’t be safe behind those walls you build a little higher every day.” His eyes are stormier than a winter sea. “You know what? I’ll save you the effort of figuring it out. I’m done. Done being friends. Done apologizing. Done trying to make you see that what we have, even if it’s broken and damaged, filled with mistakes and imperfect choices, is morereal,moreright, than what most people call love in their entire lifetimes.”