The way his eyes keep coming back to my mouth. The way his breathing is rough in the silence. The way he sways toward me. All combine to make me believe that he’s feeling the same. My eyes close as we come slowly together.
Then, a second before our lips would meet, my brain screams at me.
She’s a pain in the ass and a menace. She follows me around like a little lost puppy.
I jump back.
Nope. I can’t do this. He doesn’t want me, not really. Maybe he’s just horny. Whatever it is, it would break me if we hooked up and, the next morning, he regretted it. I don’t want to be anyone’s mistake.
I deserve someone who truly wants me.
But what if he…I start to waver.
I turn to him, and I know I made the right decision. I recognize the look in his eyes. It’s remorse.Fuck that.
He clears his throat and drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “So I think we’re clear.”
I’m angry. At him. At myself. But I’ll never let him know how much that almost-kiss almost meant to me.
“Go to the coastal road, and I’ll direct you,” I instruct.
“I thought we were going to Ed’s. I know the way.”
“We’re taking a different route. Does this convertible top work?” I press a few buttons until the radio switches on. I adjust the dial and find a song.
“Yes,” he says. “But that’s not a good idea. It makes it easier for the paps to identify us.”
I shrug. “They already know this car. Having the top down won’t make a difference. I want the wind on my face as we drive.”
He doesn’t answer, but reaches over and presses a button. The top disengages. He waits until it’s fully down before looking behind us and pulling out onto the street.
A few minutes later, we’re flying down the road. The Atlantic is on one side of us. I close my eyes, the wind whipping my hair and cooling my heated skin.
“Daisy? I need you to direct me. Where are we going?”
I keep my eyes shut for a second longer, savoring the freedom, savoring Ryder’s presence for a brief, forbidden second before I open my eyes and that feeling of rightness disappears.
I always hoped my direction, my destination, would be Ryder.
But not any longer. So now I’m unsure of my way.
CHAPTER 24
Ryder
(TEN YEARS AGO) RYDER’S JOURNAL
Daisy is a pebble in my shoe. A disruptor. An irritant, even. But when I remove it, when I hold it up to the light, I find it’s diamond-bright. And the only problem was that it always belonged in the sky and not on the earth.
(NOW)
We fly down the coast until Daisy directs me to a small gravel road that winds its way through dense foliage. The song on the radio switches, and the familiar chords to “Drive” by the Cars fill the cool air around us.
“I love this song,” she murmurs.
I’ve never driven this car with the top down, even though it’s a convertible. I’ve always been worried about being spotted. But now, I regret that choice. I could drive like this, with Daisybeside me, for hours. I turn to watch her. Her eyes are closed. Her chin is tipped up as if she’s lost in the moment.
But all too soon, the road dead-ends at an old cottage. A dozen cars are parked in front of the small house that’s seen better days. The place is lit up and the front is door open.
