“Faith.”
She shook her head, eyes squeezing shut. “I’m sorry. Ishouldn’t have done that.” My heart slammed against my sternum. “I just got my brother back, and it’s not exactly brilliant to get involved with one of his closest friends.”
Every word felt like evidence being stacked against me.Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we present Exhibit A: Why This Can Never Happen Again.
But then she looked at me, and for just a second, I saw the same hunger from the elevator.
“This isn’t over,” I said quietly.
“Ryker …”
In that moment, I was terrified it might be the last time she’d ever let me kiss her.
But it wasn’t.
A month later, I’d found myself in a bridal suite at Blake and Tessa’s wedding, Faith’s bridesmaid dress pooled on the floor, her legs wrapped around my waist as she moaned. The taste of champagne on her tongue. The sound of her gasping my name like a prayer she didn’t want to say, but couldn’t hold back.
It should have been enough. Should have gotten her out of my system.
Instead, it only made me want her more.
But now, watching two officers escort her down a sterile hospital corridor, I wasn’t thinking about want. I was thinking about loss.
Faith glanced back over her shoulder one last time. Just a flicker of a half a second, maybe less. But in that brief moment, I saw everything she was trying to hide. The fear. The apology. The silent plea she’d never voice aloud.
Don’t give up on me.
My chest cracked open.
This woman—this fierce, guarded, impossibly strong woman—had let me see her break. In an elevator. In a bridal suite. In stolen moments she pretended meant nothing. She’d handed me pieces of herself she’d never given anyone else.
And now she was walking away inhandcuffs.
I pulled out my phone. Started making calls. Because Faith Morrison wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life in a cell if I had anything to say about it.
She’d trusted me with her vulnerability.
Now I’d prove that trust wasn’t misplaced.
9
RYKER
SINNERS AND SAINTS GROUP CHAT
Blake: Any update on Faith?
Me: On my way to see her now.
Axel: Did you smuggle in a cake with a nail file? Because I know a guy who knows a guy.
Blake: This isn’t funny, dickhead.
Axel: If someone doesn’t keep the mood light, you and Ryker are going to spontaneously combust. And I can’t afford to lose my drinking buddies.
Me: Your concern is touching. Truly.
Axel: I’m a giver. And maybe the group’s designated emotional support asshole?
