"When?"
My heart hammers against my ribs. This is happening. I'm doing this.
"I'm at the shop. Can you come?"
The dots stop. Start. Stop again.
Then: "Give me twenty minutes."
I set the phone down with shaking hands. Twenty minutes. I have twenty minutes to figure out what I'm going to say. How to thank him for yesterday. How to ask for what I want. How to be brave when every instinct is screaming at me to play it safe.
I flip the sign to CLOSED. Lock the door. Make myself busy straightening shelves that don't need straightening.
The next twenty minutes are the longest of my life.
I check my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I'm wearing jeans and an oversized sweater, my hair pulled back in a messy bun. No makeup. I look like someone who woke up at six and has been overthinking for nine hours.
Too late to change now.
At exactly twenty minutes, I hear his truck pull into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps on the back stairs. A soft knock.
I unlock the door.
Ryder stands there in jeans and his leather jacket, hair a bit messy like he ran his hands through it on the drive over. His eyes meet mine, and everything in my chest goes tight.
"Hi," I say.
"Hi." He doesn't move. Just looks at me with an expression I can't read. "You wanted to talk?"
"Yeah." I step back. "Come in."
He walks past me, and I lock the door behind him. The shop feels smaller with him in it. The air thicker. I'm aware of every breath, every movement.
We stand there in the quiet. Three feet apart.
"So," he says.
"So." I twist my hands together. "I wanted to thank you. For yesterday. For the charity game. For..." I trail off. "For everything."
"You don't have to thank me."
"I do. You risked favors for me. You're risking your shoulder. You fixed a problem I couldn't solve." I force myself to meet his eyes. "Why?"
He's quiet for a moment. Then: "You know why."
"I need to hear you say it."
"Because seeing you hurt made me want to fix it. Because I couldn't stand the thought of you thinking you failed." He takes a step closer. "Because making you smile has become more important than protecting my own interests. Because the thought of you disappointed made my chest cave in." Another step. "Because somewhere between catching you off that ladder and watching you with Maisie and listening to you talk about your dreams, I started falling for you."
The words punch through me.
"You're falling for me," I repeat.
"Have been since I got here. Maybe longer." His voice is rough. "I know the timing is terrible. I know I'm leaving. I know Connor will kill us both. But Lucy." He closes the remaining distance. "I can't stop thinking about you. Can't stop wanting you. Can't pretend this isn't happening."
My heart hammers so hard I'm sure he can hear it. "I've been thinking about the snowstorm. About what almost happened by the fire. About yesterday in the kitchen."
"Lucy—"
