I know Mom is only looking out for me, but her comment feels like a poke nonetheless. “I hope to race again, yeah.”
Dad skewers a pair of brussels sprouts with his fork. “I wish you coulda seen the way Ryder leapt over all those seats into the arena. It was like something out of a movie.”
Nash nods. “Dude is fast.”
No shit.
“You would’ve thought he had the hots for Billie by how quickly he ran.” Tate gives me a playful look as he gulps his wine. “That’s what I thought, anyway.”
“Not funny.” Colt stares down Tate.
Tate holds up his hands. “Or maybe it was just afriendlyburst of energy that got him into that arena.”
“We’ll leave it at that.” Dad, ever the peacemaker, is good at smoothing ruffled feathers. “And your thorn, Billie?”
Wanting Ryder but not being able to have him.
Despising my job but being too chickenshit to quit.
“The surgery.” I’m gulping my wine now too. “All those needles.”
Dad pats my hand. “You were so brave, sweetheart.”
I’m not brave, though. I haven’t been honest with my parents about how much I hate my job. I haven’t been honest withmyselfabout what that means for my future. I need to make some really big changes if I’m ever going to be happy, but I’ve been too scared of letting other people down to eventhinkabout what my next move might be.
I’m not sure what bothers me more: the fact that my family views me in a totally different way than I view myself, or that Iletthem think of me as this brave, steady, wholesome girl, when really, I’m something else entirely.
I wonder what Ryder would have to say about that.
I wonder if I’d feel any better if he hummed for me again.
Tate, Mom, and I are the last ones left in the kitchen after dinner. Tate loads the dishwasher while I wipe down the counters and Mom finds a spot for leftovers in the fridge.
“Hey, Mom?” I set down the countertop spray beside the dish soap at the sink and drop a handful of dirty paper towels in the trash. “Could I possibly bribe you for the rest of those blondies?”
Mom loves to bake, and she makes us dessert from scratch almost every time she cooks dinner. Today, she whipped up some blondies. They’re basically a chocolate chip cookie in brownie form, with a decadently thick, chewy center that oozes with melted semisweet chocolate chips.
They are to die for. Especially when you’re a literal cookie monster like Ryder, who loves a chocolate chip moment. Everyone thought he’d puke his guts out after eating an entire package of Chips Ahoy! on a dare from Colt. But the smug bastard just smiled when he was done and asked for more.
Ryder’s got a sweet tooth, a fact I haven’t taken advantage of until…well, right now.
Mom grins. “You don’t need to bribe me, honey. Take all you want.”
“Where are you off to?” Tate doesn’t look up from the dishes he’s rinsing in the sink.
My stomach dips. Leave it to him to sniff out my not-so-secret plan to visit my not-so-secret crush. “Nowhere.”
“Tell Ryder I said hello,” Mom replies.
I scoff. Am I really that transparent? True, I’ve pushed Ryder’s buttons plenty around my family. But for TateandMom to automatically know where I’m headed, my crush on Ryder must be even more obvious than I thought.
I consider denying the fact that I’m going twenty miles out of my way to ask Ryder Rivers tohumwith me.
Sounds kinda kinky, actually.
If only.
But they’d know I was full of shit if I made up some story about needing this much comfort food in my house. I mean, there’s almost a whole tray of blondies left.
