Social media goes crazy when Ryder releases a statement publicly apologizing for letting me down. He ended it with a heartfelt declaration of undying love for me, which has his fans swooning over him even more. While I’m grateful he set the record straight, it hasn’t changed anything.
On Thursday, Ryder ups the ante, surprising me with a romantic dinner on the beach. The guys helped him build a little makeshift gazebo, and he cooked the dinner from scratch himself. After we eat, he plays a new song he wrote for me, explaining how, in juvie, he used to daydream about serenading me on a beach.
I cry myself to sleep that night, my heart torn and so conflicted. A part of me wants to cave. To say fuck it. That he deserves another chance.
But the part of me that spent years hardening my heart isn’t as forgiving.
I swore I would never let another man shatter my heart in the way Ryder Stone had. Now, finding myself in a similar position, thanks to the very same man, makes me feel weak and lacking in resolve. Then I think of the intense connection we share, the strength of the love that exists between us, how sorry he is for the mistakes he’s made, all the ways he’s shown me that he cares, and I feel foolish for turning my back on the love of a lifetime.
Round and round it goes. Churning and churning. Without any resolution.
I’ve returned to the guest bedroom, because sleeping beside Ryder when our relationship is in flux doesn’t feel right, but I’m lonelier than ever.
Ryder has nightmares, most every night, and I go to him, holding him until he falls back asleep, and then I return to my room. I’m existing on minimal sleep, because I can’t switch off with everything going through my mind.
Every night, like clockwork, I bolt awake at four a.m. as terrifying visions of Ren’s assault inflict my mind. I stay up after that, usually reading, sometimes writing, or occasionally baking, because these things help ease my mind.
“Fuck, these are gorgeous,” Gar declares, stuffing another blueberry muffin in his face. I only took them out of the oven twenty minutes ago, so they’re still all fluffy and warm. “If you break up with Stone, you can come live with me, on condition you bake these muffins every morning.”
Even though he can’t see me from this angle, I roll my eyes at the suggestion. I can barely tolerate being in the same room as Gar these days. If he keeps talking shit, I’m likely to ram that muffin down his throat until he chokes. I glance at Ryder, but his head is still bent over his cell. The drumming of his fingers off the tabletop is the only indication Gar’s comment has gotten to him.
If this was before, Ryder would’ve ripped Gar’s head off, but he’s been quite withdrawn and sullen this week. I suspect he thought his romantic gesture on the beach last night would send me falling back into his arms, and he’s dejected because it didn’t happen. I want to tell him it’s okay, that we can get past this, but I won’t lie to him, and I don’t know that yet.
However, I’m hoping the fact I’m still here tells him I haven’t given up on us. That I’m still processing everything. Despite what he thinks, I know he’s not a bad guy.
I’m shocked over what happened with Cory, but anyone looking at Ryder can see the overwhelming guilt and remorse he struggles with daily. He’s being punished every single day, and I don’t hold that over him. It’s more his failure to disclose the full picture and his destructive, hurtful behavior the night of the awards that has me unsure of our future.
“Boss.” Mike strolls into the kitchen with three strange men following him. From their builds and stoic expressions, I can tell they are part of the new security detail. Ryder has gone into uber protective mode since last weekend, doubling the size of the bodyguard team, installing new cameras in the living areas and hallways of the house, insisting I have two bodyguards whenever I step foot off the property, putting monitoring devices on my cell and laptop, and checking the locator app on his cell incessantly when he thinks I’m not looking. I understand it, and I’m not going to criticize him, especially as it helps me feel more secure.
“I want to introduce you to the new faces on the team,” Mike adds.
A frown puckers my brow as I stare at the familiar guy with the strawberry-blond hair. “I know you.”
Alarm sweeps across Ryder’s face as Mike cusses under his breath.
I round the island unit, my gaze bouncing between the new guy, Mike, and Ryder. “You were the one who came to my aid the night that guy was chasing me,” I supply, remembering the incident from three years ago as clearly as if it was yesterday.
After what transpired that night, I stopped jogging through the park near my home after dark. I’d been running my usual route when this guy appeared from behind me, instantly giving me a mad case of the heebie-jeebies. Keen to outrun him, I’d stepped up my pace, but so did he, and soon, it became obvious he was chasing me.
The man currently standing in front of me—looking scared shitless I might add—had materialized at my side, quickly telling me he meant me no harm, advising he’d deal with the guy following me, and to run home. I hadn’t needed any further encouragement, and I’d barely paused for a breath the whole way back to my condo. I’d thought of my savior often in the weeks that followed, but then I forgot all about it.
Until now.
“What’s going on?” I spin around, facing Ryder, who appears to be having some sort of silent conversation with Mike.
“I’d like to know that too,” Ryder says, glaring at Mike and the new guy. “Why is this the first I’m hearing about this?”
Mike levels a direct look at Ryder. “I’m sorry, boss. Lar reported the incident to me at the time, but I thought it best to hold that information back. Zeta was safe, and you would’ve just freaked out like you did when…”
Ryder silences him with a loaded look.
“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” I cross my arms over my chest, beginning to form a picture.
Ryder extends his hand toward me. “Let’s go for a walk.”
He doesn’t want to talk in front of the others and neither do I, so I take his hand and we walk in complete silence out of the house and down to the beach.
It’s a beautiful summer’s morning, and the sun heats my bare shoulders as we tread a path through the soft, warm sand. Ryder shares this private strip of beach with a few of his neighbors, and I can make out a few kids playing up ahead as we walk.
