Then he turns and heads upstairs without a word.
***
I find Emma folding laundry after dinner.
"I think Connor talked to him." I close the door behind me.
She looks up. "About?"
"Me." I lean against the dryer. "Had to be. The way Ryder looked after—" I stop. "Whatever Connor said, it worked. Ryder won't even look at me now."
"What do you think he said?"
"Probably that I deserve someone stable. Someone who's not leaving in three weeks. Someone who's not him." The words taste bitter. "And he's not wrong."
"Is that what you want? Stable?"
"I don't know." I slide down to sit on the floor. "That's a lie. I know exactly what I want. I want Ryder to look at me the way he did this morning. I want his hands on me. I want—" I press my palms to my eyes. "I've been in love with him since I was fifteen, Em. Fifteen. I watched him date other girls. Watched him leave every time. And I told myself I was over it, that I'd moved on, but seeing him again—" My voice cracks. "I want him. Even knowing he's leaving. Even knowing it'll wreck me the same way it did every other time."
She sits beside me. "Then take him."
"What?"
"Stop waiting for permission." Her voice is fierce. "Stop waiting for him to choose you. When do you get to fight for what you want? When do you get to be selfish?"
"What if he says no?"
"Then at least you'll know." She takes my hand. "But that man at breakfast did not look at you like he wants to say no."
I think about his eyes. The hunger there. The way his knee pressed against mine.
"Connor will be furious."
"Connor will survive." Emma pulls me up. "The question is—are you brave enough?"
I don't answer. But the question sits in my chest like a stone.
Another email from Mr. Carmichael is waiting on my phone. Another reminder that I'm running out of time—for the shop, for Ryder, for everything.
I leave it unread and head upstairs.
Sleep is impossible.
I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, hyperaware that Ryder is twenty feet away through the bathroom we share. I hear water running. Hear him moving around. Hear his door close.
Silence stretches. Heavy. Loaded.
I replay the bathroom incident frame by frame. The shock on his face giving way to heat. The way he looked at me—not like Connor's little sister. Like a woman he wanted.
And the frosting moment today. His thumb on my lip. The hunger in his eyes before Connor interrupted.
He wants me. I know he does.
But wanting isn't enough when my brother is in the way. When Ryder's leaving. When I'm fifteen thousand short of saving my shop and can't afford another disaster.
I roll over. Punch my pillow. Try to sleep.
But all I can think about is Ryder Blackwood on the other side of that door, and whether Emma is right—whether I'm brave enough to fight for what I want.
