"I was never allowed to complain. My mother would point out that she provided me with everything I could ever need, and therefore my life was idyllic."
"I would say your life was pretty traumatizing, aside from what happened to you. That was . . . horrific."
Blinking back tears, Morgan said, "I've done a shitty job of dealing with it."
Ryder tilted his head. "You're entitled, to an extent. But you need help, Morgan."
"You can call me Shorty, if you want. My family does."
He sat back and smiled. "You know, the bar has this rep. A lot of couples seem to meet there, and they all end up with nicknames."
"What's yours?"
"I don't have one, but if we followed tradition, you'd call me Jameson."
"Based on the alcohol?"
"Yeah."
"Hmm. Jameson." She grinned. "I prefer Ryder."
“For you, Morgan, I’ll be Ryder. Your Ryder, if you’re so inclined.”
