“Better?” he asked.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
His hand stayed on mine, steady and sure, even as his other hand lifted to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Faith. Not ever.”
I leaned into his touch, feeling weak for how badly I needed it. Grateful that he was here now, that in this storm, he’d be with me every step of the way.
For a moment, we stayed frozen like that. His hand cupping my cheek, my face tilted up toward his, the space between us charged with something that had nothing to do with my arrest or this tiny room. His eyes dropped to my lips, and I saw the exact moment his resolve cracked.
He leaned down, slow enough that I could have pulled away if I wanted to. But I didn’t want to. Not when his breath ghostedacross my lips. Not when every cell in my body screamed for this connection, this proof that I wasn’t alone, that someone saw me as more than the accused murderer in handcuffs.
His lips brushed mine. Barely a whisper of contact, but enough to send electricity racing through my veins. For one perfect heartbeat, nothing else existed. Not the murder charge, not the walls closing in. Just Ryker and me and this impossible, beautiful mistake.
Then he jerked back like I’d burned him.
“Christ.” He dropped his hands, taking a full step away from me. He raked a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—” He cut himself off. “We need to pull back on … this.” His words came out clipped, professional. “It’s a conflict of interest, Faith. The ADA, Wolfe, is already gunning for you. If he gets even a hint that there’s something between us, he’ll use it. Say I’m not representing your best interests, that I’m emotionally compromised. He’ll use it to his advantage in court.”
I nodded, wrapping my arms around myself.
“We can’t give him that ammunition,” Ryker continued, his voice steadier now, like he was arguing a case instead of ripping my heart out. “Your freedom is what matters. Getting you out of here. Proving your innocence. Everything else …” He gestured vaguely between us. “Everything else has to wait.”
I nodded again, not trusting myself to speak. Because if I opened my mouth, I might tell him the truth: That he didn’t know me like he thought he did. That if he knew what I’d done in my past, all the ways I’d failed, all the secrets I kept locked away, he’d be running from this room.
Ryker was right to pull away. He just didn’t know he was right for all the wrong reasons. If he saw the real me, he’d understand that some people weren’t meant to be loved.
“You’re right,” I finally managed. “The case comes first.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Disappointment? Relief? But it was gone before I could name it.
After evaluating me for another moment, Ryker cleared his throat and moved back.
His gaze shifted to the bandage on my head. “Is your headache manageable? Any new symptoms?”
“I’m fine.” Because in this room, with him, I was. Or at least closer to fine than I’d been for hours. Even if we could never be more than lawyer and client.
“Are they treating you okay?” The question carried an edge that suggested someone would answer to him if the response wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
I bit back the real answer about the heckling and shouting.Because nothing saysinnocent until proven guiltylike a good old-fashioned verbal beatdown.
“They’re treating me fine,” I lied.
Ryker motioned for me to sit down, then took the chair across from me, his eyes lingering on the cuffs around my wrists. Something dark flickered across his features when he seemed to notice the slight red marks where the metal had chafed my skin. At least they were cuffed in the front this time.
I placed my hands on the table, grateful that he reached out and touched my skin, centering me.
“I just have to stay here until the hearing, right?”
Ryker swallowed hard. “If the judge grants you bail.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“You’ll have to stay in lockup until the trial.”
My stomach dropped. Truth was, being in this jail cell was brutal, and the prospect of staying in for an extended period of time made me feel lightheaded. “How long will that take?”
“A while,” he said quietly.
A while.The words hit me like cold water. Waking up every day in a cell, carrying this weight with nowhere to set it down.
