His hand closes around my wrist, tugging me inside. The door clicks shut, and then I'm pressed against it, his mouth on mine, hands in my hair. This kiss is different from the one in the kitchen. Deeper. More honest. Like we can finally stop pretending.
"Missed you," he murmurs against my lips.
"You just saw me."
"Too long."
I laugh, and he swallows the sound, kissing me until I'm dizzy. Until the only thing keeping me upright is him, his body warm and solid against mine.
When we finally break apart, I notice the wrapped presents on his desk.
"Is one of those mine?"
"Maybe." He's smiling, that rare full smile that transforms his whole face. "Want to do gifts now?"
"It's almost midnight. Technically Christmas Eve."
"Close enough."
He hands me a flat package wrapped in silver paper. I settle on the edge of his bed, suddenly nervous. I've never been good at receiving gifts. Never know what my face should do.
"Open it," Ryder says, sitting beside me.
The paper tears easily. Inside is a book—old, leather-bound, the spine soft with age. I recognize it immediately.
"Pride and Prejudice?" I breathe.
"First edition. Well, first American edition." He's watching me carefully. "You told me once it was your favorite. That you read it every year."
I did tell him that. Years ago, probably. I am shocked that he remembered this.
I open the cover. Inside, in his slanted handwriting:For Lucy—who makes anywhere feel like home. R
My vision blurs. "Ryder, this is—I can't—"
"There's more." He pulls a small, flat box from his pocket.
Inside, nestled in tissue paper, is a key.
"That's to my apartment in Boston." His voice is quiet. Careful. "I want you to have it. For when you visit. Or... whenever you want. However long you want."
I stare at the key. It's just metal—brass, slightly tarnished, ordinary. But what it represents makes my chest tight.
He's giving me access. Permission. A place in his life beyond Pine Hollow.
"You mean it?" I whisper.
"Every word." He takes my hand, thumb tracing my knuckles. "I know I'm leaving next week. I know this is complicated. But Lucy, I don't want this to end. I want to figure out how to make this work. Long distance, visits, whatever it takes. I want you in my life."
The shop. The loan. The payment plan we hammered out yesterday so I could keep my pride and my dream. He's already proving he means it.
I set the book and key carefully on the nightstand. My hands are shaking.
"Your turn," I manage.
I retrieve the album I stashed in my room earlier, wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. Simple. Nothing fancy. I hand it to him, heart in my throat.
He unwraps it slowly. Stops when he sees the cover—brown leather, embossed with his initials.
