“Yeah, and Dad thinks I’m somehow betraying him by going.” Ryder picked at a loose thread on his jeans, not meeting my eyes. “Says I’m ‘endorsing sin’ or some bullshit.”
“But you’re still planning to go?”
He looked up then, a flash of defiance in those green eyes. “Hell yes, I’m going. Cole and Jesse are good people. They’ve been nothing but kind to me, even when Dad’s been an insufferable ass to them.”
I nodded slowly, understanding more than he realized. Standing up to people wasn’t easy, especially those closest to you.
“What did you tell him?” I asked.
“That I was going whether he liked it or not.” Ryder’s voice dropped. “That’s when he hit me.”
My blood ran cold. “He what?”
Ryder turned his face slightly, and in the lantern light, I could see it now, the faint shadow of a bruise forming along his jawline. Anger surged through me, hot and immediate. Suddenly I felt like wrapping my hands around Pete McGrath’s chubby neck until the light left his eyes.
“It’s not a big deal,” he mumbled, clearly regretting telling me. “Not the first time, won’t be the last.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.” The words came out harsher than I intended.
“What do you care?” Ryder snapped, his walls coming back up. “I’m just the spoiled rich kid who plays games, remember?”
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “That doesn’t mean you deserve to behit.”
Ryder’s face hardened, but I could see the hurt beneath it. “I don’t need your pity.”
“It’s not pity,” I said, my voice softer than I intended. “Nobody deserves to be treated like that, especially not by their own father.”
He looked away, but not before I caught the flash of vulnerability in his eyes. It was like seeing a completely different person from the cocky kid who’d been trying to get under my skin for weeks. This Ryder was raw, wounded in a way that went deeper than just the bruise on his jaw.
“Does he do this often?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral.
Ryder shrugged. “Only when I really piss him off. Or when he’s been drinking.” He picked at the hay beneath him. “Used to be worse when I was younger.”
The casual way he said it made my stomach turn. I’d known men like Pete McGrath in prison and in life. Men who believed their authority gave them the right to hurt others. I’d always hated them.
“You should leave,” I said. “Find your own place.”
Ryder laughed, but there was no humor in it. “And go where? Do what? Everything I have is tied to this ranch. My inheritance, my future.” He shook his head. “Besides, it’s just a couple more years until he retires. I can handle it until then.”
I studied him in the dim lantern light, seeing the resignation in his slumped shoulders. This was the real Ryder McGrath. He wasn’t the flirtatious troublemaker right now, but a young mantrapped in a life he couldn’t escape, playing whatever role he needed to survive.
“You shouldn’t have to ‘handle’ being hit,” I said firmly.
“Welcome to my world,” he replied, his voice bitter. “Where the great Pete McGrath can do whatever the fuck he wants because he’s respected in town. Nobody would believe me anyway. I’m the fuck up, remember? Everyone knows it.”
I knew that feeling all too well, the helplessness of having no one believe your side of the story. It was a lonely place to be. I’d lived there my whole damn life.
“I believe you,” I said simply.
Ryder looked up, surprised. Something passed between us then, an understanding that went beyond our previous interactions. For a moment, we weren’t ex-con and boss’s son. We were just two men who knew what it was like to be powerless.
“Why are you being nice to me?” he asked, genuine confusion in his voice. “I thought you couldn’t stand me.”
I sighed, trying to figure out how to answer that. “I don’t dislike you, Ryder. I just don’t trust whatever this is.” I gestured between us. “You’re young, you’re bored, and I’m convenient entertainment. But my freedom is on the line. Mylife.”
“It’s not like that,” he protested, leaning forward. “I mean, yeah, at first maybe I was just messing around. But...” He trailed off, searching for words that eluded him.
“Ryder,” I said softly, leaning closer. “Would you like me to come to the wedding with you?”
