“I must have been on my way to visit Blake,” I reasoned.
“And got out on foot?”
“I don’t know.” I stopped walking, and this time, the frustration in my voice was real. “God, I wish I could give you something useful. Some smoking gun that would make this all go away.”
“We’ll figure it out.” He stepped closer, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “Together.”
Together. Like we were a team. Like I wasn’t just another case file on his desk.
The trail curved ahead, and he placed his hand on my lower back to guide me around a muddy patch. It was such a small gesture, but the possessiveness of it felt large to me. The way he automatically moved to protect me from even something as small as mud …
“We need details, Faith. The prosecution is going to tear apart every gap in your story.”
“I wish I had them. I honestly don’t.”
He let out a long breath. “Okay. It’s okay.”
I turned to face him, needing him to see my face when I said this. “I promise, if I remember anything about that night—anything at all—I’ll tell you immediately.”
When he saw the tortured look on my face, saw how hard this was for me, his expression softened.
“Hey.” His voice went gentle, almost a whisper. “You’re doing everything you can.”
He reached up and brushed his thumb across my cheekbone.
We stood there, frozen. The forest had gone quiet around us, like even the birds were holding their breath. His thumb was still on my cheek, and somehow, we’d gotten closer. Close enough that when he exhaled, I felt the heat of it warm and alive against my lips despite the cold biting at every other inch of my skin.
His gaze dropped to my mouth. When it lingered there, I could tell he was still trying to resist, but what was the point? We cared about each other. We’d already crossed so many lines. And this whole murder charge experience had left me terrified, but being with Ryker made me feel anchored again. Safe.
He still cared about me too. Even after all I’d confided in him. Even after I’d tried to fire him. He was still here, fighting for me, wanting me, staring at my mouth like it held the answers to everything he’d been too afraid to ask.
He leaned in slowly, giving me time to pull away.
I didn’t pull away.
I rose on my tiptoes and met his lips with my own.
Our kiss was featherlight at first. Tentative, testing, as if one of us might suddenly come to our senses and push the other away. But when neither of us did—when, instead, we both leaned in deeper—something broke open between us. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his hard, warm body against mine, groaning as our tongues connected, as he tasted like coffee and desperation and promises neither of us had spoken aloud yet.
I melted into him. All my fear dissolving under the gentleness of his hands in my hair, the way he kissed me like I was something precious he’d been waiting his whole life to hold.
I had no plans to ever let this kiss end.
Until a whimper cut through the dense canopy of trees.
We both froze.
The sound escalated into a desperate whine. Unmistakably distress.
“Faith, wait—” Ryker called out, but I was already moving toward the sound, branches scraping my jacket as I pushed through the underbrush.
When I shoved past a thick cluster of oak trees, their bronze leaves still clinging stubbornly to autumn, I found the source.
“Oh my God.”
34
FAITH
