He sighs. “It was all amazing at first. Every experience was new, like nothing I could have ever imagined. We just kept skyrocketing higher. To the top of the charts. To fame. And the higher we went, the faster we were spinning. On a never-ending cycle of press and recording, touring and events. So it took me a while to even notice that we were actually spinning around in a cage. None of us had any freedom, not really. We wore the clothes the label wanted us to wear, we sang the songs they gave us, did the dance moves they arranged, followed the schedulethey wanted. They owned us, and we were their puppets. Extremely lucrative puppets.”
“So you left to take back your independence,” I say. “Do you ever regret it?
“No. I needed to do go solo. I needed freedom to make my own music. Just like I needed to legally emancipate myself from my dad when he told me I had to quit performing. I felt like I didn’t have a choice. If I chose to stay in both those situations, I’d lose my music. I’d lose myself. I had to choose me. I had to choose my freedom and independence. But I hated hurting people because of it. I broke up one of the most popular bands in the world, at the height of our popularity. My bandmates were like family, and they hate me now. Most of them never made it with solo careers.” His voice is quiet in the dark.
I rise up on my elbows to see him better. In the darkened room, the sculpted lines of his face are carved in stark shadow. Tattoos snake from his upper arms down to his chest. He told me the story of some of them over the years. The phoenix on his chest that symbolized leaving his family and joining the band. The vines of roses and thorns decorating his muscular arms because his mom loved her garden. But I spy new ones as well. The memories and the pain and the stories that I don’t know because of all these sporadic years in which we haven’t been quite strangers but haven’t been close.
“You can’t live a life that’s wrong for you just because you’re afraid to hurt someone. You can only live the life you’re meant for. And you don’t have to feel guilty if freedom and independence are what you want, so long as you aren’t lying to anyone about it.”
His family and his bandmates aren’t the only ones who tried to cage Ryder. They aren’t the only ones he feels responsible for or guilty over. He may be talking about his career now. But it seems like his need for freedom and independence runs deep.He’s never wanted to be tied down. It’s what he’s resisted all his life. He hasn’t made it a secret that he doesn’t do relationships. Hell, he doesn’t even want a dog.
I rest my head back on his shoulder and hug him tight because, at least for tonight, he’s mine. And that’s just going to have to be enough.
CHAPTER 30
Daisy
(TEN YEARS AGO)
Dear Diary,
Ryder is avoiding me. I humiliated myself and ruined my friendship with him. I’m a runaway. A mess. Hiding out here with no real life.
And I’m stuck in my room tonight because Sebastian came home from dinner with a bunch of friends, and they’re partying in the living room. Ryder’s out, of course. And Chase is at some work thing. My foster brother gave me strict instructions to lock my door and stay in my room whenever Sebastian has people over. But I’m not a kid. I’m seventeen now. I’m sick of this room and in desperate need of a distraction.
But I just want to forget everything for a while. Sebastian’s party seems like the perfect place to start.
(NOW)
I wake up to banging.
I open one eye, only to realize I’m playing the part of the little spoon in bed with Ryder, his arm heavy and tight around me. I’m confused for a second, wondering where I am and how I got here, before memories of last night flash through me.
And then I realize that the banging sound is coming from someone knocking on the bedroom door.
Wide awake now, I sit up, pulling the sheet to cover my chest.
Ryder sits up as well. He looks adorably sleepy and confused, his jaw covered in stubble. Our eyes meet, and we freeze. Shit, I hope this won’t be awkward. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve woken up in a guy’s bed before. But this isn’t just any guy. This is Ryder. This is special.
“Hi,” I say with an awkward wave of one hand. And because I’m me, because I can’t let a dramatic moment go to waste, I drop the sheet.
Ryder’s eyes widen, shifting down to my bare skin that’s now on display.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful in the morning,” he says in a gravelly voice that causes my chest to constrict. He reaches out and traces my collarbone with his finger, then runs it down my chest until he cups my breast. My entire body melts with his touch.
The knocking picks up force.
“Who the hell is that?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. I’m busy being fondled.”
“Well, I’m busy doing the fondling,” Ryder retorts.
He moves to my other breast. I start to dive my hand under the covers to see if he put his boxers back on in the night or, hopefully, not.
“Ryder, open the damn door!”
“It’s Duncan,” I hiss.
