Did you three bring him here? You know he kidnapped me, right?
Chapter 26
Connor
Ryan's clothes hang loose on my body. His joggers bunch at my ankles, the drawstring pulled tight to keep them up. The Titans hoodie swallows me whole, sleeves past my fingertips, collar soft and worn against my throat.
Fuck me for not grabbing clothes before driving to Erie.
I took off the second Viktor texted me Ryan’s home address. I don’t know if he got it from Harper, which would be the easiest way. But he definitely didn’t tell his fiancée about it.
Alexei lit up my phone, too. All threats. Murderous ones. Can’t blame him. Wouldn’t be fucking surprised if he goes after Zach. No way he’ll let what happened go. That man is obsessively protective of his husband.
I grip the banister when the world tilts half a degree. My head throbs hard enough that I have to close my eyes.
Fuck.
Definitely a concussion. I deserve it. Maybe not the part where Kai decided my face was a heavy bag.He lost it when he realized Ryan was missing and refused to give me any information. That's why I turned to Viktor for help.
And fuck my life, he was a nosy bitch. Took twenty minutes of me screaming into the phone before he finally gave up prodding and agreed to help.
I pause at the bottom of the stairs, not giving a shit what Larry may throw at me because Ryan’s mine. And I owe it to my husband to make it work with his foster father.
Even if I have to eat shit.
But a small part of me is nervous. Just because Ryan admitted to being in love with me doesn’t mean he’ll come back. Doesn’t mean he’ll choose me outside of protecting me from my father.
Larry's eyes narrow as I walk into the room. “Sit.”
Plates are already set on the table. Soup steams in bowls. Glasses are filled with water. It’s like one of those kitchens where people actually eat together. Every night.
Fuck if I know what that's like.
I sit across from Ryan, but he doesn’t look up. Just picks at the edge of his placemat. His eyes are puffy, his shoulders hunched.
I want to make him feel better. But fuck if I know how.
He didn’t even smile when I blurted out that I was in love with him. I’m such a fucking idiot. Wasn’t the right time. Wasn’t even planned.
It just . . . happened.
But he said it back. After everything I did, he said it back.
Mine. He's fucking mine. And fuck, I’m his.
Larry sets a platter of grilled cheese cut into triangles in the center.
The fuck? Are we six?
I clear my throat. “Thank you.”
He grunts, then takes a seat, not bothering to look at me before picking up his spoon and eating, like I’m not even here.
Fair.
I'd ignore me, too, if some asshole kidnapped my kid.
My vision darkens around the edges, a bolt of pain shooting through my head. My fingers dig into my thighs, and I take a slow breath, waiting for it to pass.
