If she’s going to Oregon, I’m going too. If she’s seeing her family, I’m standing beside her. If she’s stepping back into her old world, I’m going to make damn sure she doesn’t stay there.
I kiss her once, long and steady, and she melts against me like she always does.
But when she sleeps that night…I don’t.
I sit at the piano in the dark, fingers gliding over keys I’ve touched a thousand times. And I write.
For her.
For us.
For the child she doesn’t know I’m already writing for. A lullaby, a promise and a future. Each note lands heavy, certain, inevitable.
Oregon won’t change a thing.
Ruby is mine.
And she will stay mine.
Even if she doesn’t know how close she is to the truth.
Yet.
21
OREGON, OLD ROOTS, NEW CRACKS
RUBY
Oregon smells like damp pine needles, cold air, and childhood mistakes, and the second we step off the plane, my lungs feel both lighter and heavier at the same time.
Lighter because this is home.
Heavier because Zane Draven is here, towering behind me like a tattooed, silver-eyed dragon who looks at everything as if he’s debating whether to burn it or claim it.
The man has no chill.
None.
He walks through the tiny airport like he’s headlining the Grammys and not stepping into a place where the biggest local event is the annual chili cook-off.
My family meets us outside baggage claim, and the moment my mom spots him, she makes a noise that can only be described as “demonic fangirl being exorcised.”
“Oh mygoodness, Ruby,” she gushes as she barrels toward him. “You didn’t tell me he was so handsome!”
I close my eyes.
Here we go.
Zane doesn’t flinch when she hugs him. He hugs her back tighter.
He’s charming. He smiles that slow, dangerous smile that melts underwear and weakens political alliances.
My mother nearly swoons and my cousins hover behind her, whispering like I’ve brought home royalty. One of them actually fans herself.
Another one whispers, “I didn’t know rock stars looked like this in real life.”
I want the ground to swallow me whole.
