There was a long pause as I gathered up my courage.
“His name was Cody,” I continued, staring out the windshield. “Met him at some bar in Billings. He was everything I thought I wanted. Young, hot as hell, and seemed to worship the ground I walked on. Turns out he was just using me.”
Ryder turned in his seat to face me, giving me his full attention. The dashboard lights cast shadows across his face, making him look older, more serious.
“He convinced me to do a drug run with him. Said it was easy money, that we’d never get caught.” I laughed bitterly. “I’d done tons of them before. That’s how I ended up in juvie the first time. I was trying to turn my life around. But I was so fucking gone on him that I agreed. Like an idiot.”
“What happened?” Ryder asked softly.
“We got pulled over for a broken taillight. Just our luck, right? Except it wasn’t luck at all.” My jaw clenched at the memory. “Cody had set the whole thing up. He was working with the cops to reduce his own sentence from a previous bust. The drugs were real, and the sex was real, but the run was fake. He’d already tipped them off about where we’d be and when.”
“Jesus Christ,” Ryder breathed. “What a piece of shit.”
“Yeah,” I nodded, my hand unconsciously tightening on his thigh. “I got seven years for trusting him. He walked away free and clear.”
“And you never saw him again?”
“Oh, I saw him,” I said darkly. “At the trial. He testified against me, wouldn’t even look me in the eye. Just stared at the floor and recited his lines like he’d practiced them. He spun up a history of drug dealing that fit my record and the judge believed him. Why wouldn’t he?”
The memory still burned, even after all these years. The betrayal had cut deeper than any knife could have. I’d trusted Cody, had even started to fall for him. And he’d used me up and spit me out as soon as it benefited him.
“That’s why I was so hard on you in the beginning,” I admitted. “The way you pushed and teased... it reminded me of him. Of how I let myself be manipulated.”
Ryder covered my hand with his, his touch warm and reassuring. “I’m not him,” he said firmly. “I promise.”
“I know that now,” I said, meeting his eyes. “But back then, all I saw was another spoiled kid playing games, not caring who got hurt as long as he got what he wanted.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never meant to?—”
“I know,” I cut him off gently. “You’re nothing like him, not really. But that’s why I can’t risk going back to prison, Ryder. I lost seven years of my life because I let myself get carried away by someone. I can’t lose any more.”
He was quiet for a moment, processing everything I’d shared. Then he leaned across the center console and kissed me softly. It wasn’t passionate or demanding, just a simple connection, a wordless promise.
“I have nothing to gain by turning you in for some made-up crime,” he said, his fingers dancing across my jaw. “And I won’t let that happen to you either.”
“What if someone else does?” I asked, the fear that had been gnawing at me finally coming to the surface. “Your dad has connections. If he finds out about us, all he has to do is make one phone call to my parole officer. One accusation that I’ve been inappropriate with you, and I’m back in a cell before I can even defend myself.”
Ryder’s face hardened with determination. “He won’t find out.”
“You can’t guarantee that.” I shifted in my seat to face him fully. “We’re playing with fire, Ryder. And I’m the only one who gets burned if we’re caught.”
“I won’t let that happen,” he insisted, gripping my hand tightly. “Besides, Dad doesn’t even know I’m back at the ranch tonight. He thinks I’m still at Nelson’s. And you’re supposed to be in the bunkhouse. No one will see us.”
I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. But seven years in prison had taught me that hope was a dangerous thing. It could make you careless, make you forget the consequences lurking just around the corner.
“I can’t lose my freedom again,” I whispered, the words catching in my throat. “Not even for you.”
Something flickered across Ryder’s face… hurt, maybe, or understanding. He looked down at our intertwined hands.
“So, what are you saying?” he asked quietly. “That we stop? That whatever this is between us ends before it really starts?”
The thought made my chest ache in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
“I’m saying we need to be careful,” I finally replied. “More careful than we’ve been. No risks, no chances. Not until I’m free and clear.”
“How long until your parole is up at the ranch?” Ryder asked, a note of hope returning to his voice.
“Four months,” I said. “Four more months, and I’m a free man.”
