"Because you don't help anyone. You've spent two years keeping people at arm's length. Being the cold bastard the press writes about." He steps closer. "Now you're making calls to save my sister's project? Holding her in the kitchen at nine in the morning? Don't tell me this is just about sick kids."
He's right. We both know it. But admitting it means facing the consequences, and I'm not ready for that fight.
"She asked. I had the connections. That's all."
"Bullshit." Connor's jaw sets. "I know you, Ryder. And I know my sister. I see how you look at each other. How careful you're being not to touch. How awkward breakfast was."
"Connor—"
"I meant what I said the other night. Lucy deserves someone who stays. Someone who's not fucked up from his ex. Someone who can give her what she needs." He holds my gaze. "You're my best friend. You're my brother. But if you hurt her, we're done. All of it. The friendship. The family. Done."
The words land like stones. Heavy and real. The warning made explicit.
"I'm not going to hurt her," I say. The lie tastes bitter.
Because we both know that's not true. Know that every moment I spend near Lucy, every touch, every loaded look, every almost-kiss is leading somewhere that ends with her in pieces and Connor hating me and this family I've found destroyed.
I know it and can't stop anyway.
Connor holds my gaze another beat. Then shakes his head and walks out, leaving me alone with my guilt and my want and the certainty that I'm going to fuck this up.
I just don't know how to stop.
In the study, I text Cade and Alexei the final details. Confirm hotels. Work out logistics. Do the practical things that prove I can still function like a normal human being even though my insides are shredded.
Lucy's grateful face keeps surfacing in my mind. The way she looked at me, like I'd hung the moon. Like I was someone worth believing in. I haven't felt worthy of that kind of trust in two years. Haven't wanted to be.
But with her, I want to try.
That's the dangerous part. The wanting. The hope that maybe this could work. That maybe three weeks is enough time to figure out if this thing between us is real or just Christmas magic that evaporates when I go back to Boston and reality sets in.
Three weeks until I leave. Three weeks of torture, knowing I can't touch her the way I want. Can't kiss her in front of her family. Can't take her to bed and learn every sound she makes. Can't do any of it without destroying Connor in the process.
Three weeks of this pull between us growing stronger while I pretend I can walk away clean.
I'm lying to myself. I know that. But the alternative is walking away now, before this gets worse. Before we cross lines we can't uncross. Before I prove Sienna right about me being selfish and cold.
The smart move is to put distance between us. Stop with the loaded looks and the almost-touches. Stop making grand gestures that give her hope. Stop pretending this can end any way but badly.
But when I think about not seeing her smile, not hearing her laugh, not having her look at me like I matter, the thought makes my chest cave in.
So I stay. I let this pull me deeper. I make calls for her charity game and hold her when she's grateful and almost kiss her in kitchens.
I stay because I'm selfish. Because I want her. Because three weeks of this feels better than walking away with nothing.
Even knowing it's going to destroy us both.
Connor's right about one thing: I am fucked up. Two years of Sienna's manipulation left scars I'm still learning to navigate. Left me not trusting my own instincts. Not believing I deserve good things.
But Lucy makes me want to try. Makes me think maybe I'm not as broken as I thought. Maybe I'm just waiting for the right person to show me how to be whole again.
The question is whether I have the guts to let her.
Whether I can risk Connor's friendship, her heart, and the family I've built here for the possibility of something real.
Whether I'm brave enough to stay when leaving is so much safer.
I don't have answers. Just want and fear and the taste of almost-kisses that haunt me. Just the memory of her body against mine and her trust in my hands and the certainty that I'm in so much deeper than I planned.
