Ryder had always been too big, too bright for this place. He’d never been satisfied with it. He’d always needed more.
I just… wasn’t more. I was exactly the same as I always had been.
“Lots of things aren’t allowed in LA,” Ryder said as dessert arrived, glancing at me. “Doesn’t mean they’re right.”
Dad changed the subject to catching Ryder up on everything that’d happened between when he left for college and today, which took him until he pulled up in front of his house—the house I’d grown up in.
I’d built mine on the same land, just a few minutes’ walk away.
I hadn’t even moved out of home like Ryder had. Not really. I could see my dad whenever I wanted, we had dinner together all the time, and we worked together in the family business.
And I didn’twantto give any of that up. I was comfortable here.
But I’d have to be something else for Ryder.
Night had fallen by the time Ryder and I were alone again, making the walk back to the cabin, and we had to light the way with our phones so we didn’t trip over a root or a fallen branch and break our necks.
Dad would never have forgiven me if I’d let Ryder break his neck, so I stuck closer than I might have otherwise.
“It was good to see your dad again,” Ryder said, breaking the silence I’d been too much of a coward to break myself.
“Think the feeling was mutual,” I said. “He loves you, you know. Seen all your movies.”
“All of them?” Ryder asked, wrinkling his nose. “Remind me I owe him an apology.”
“They’re notthatbad. Besides, he was watching them to see you.”
“If you’re trying to make me feel even more guilty for falling out of touch with you guys, it’s working.”
“I’m not. Promise,” I said, tucking my phone in my pocket as the cabin’s porch lights came into view. “But we did miss you.”
“If you know the movies weren’t that bad, does that mean you watched them too?” Ryder asked, looking up at me as we made our way onto the porch.
“Obviously.” I shrugged, glad that there wasn’t quite enough light for Ryder to see me blush.
“Not exactly your taste,” Ryder pointed out.
“You were in them.” I shrugged again. “You know I’d watch anything you were in. How many rehearsals did I go to?”
“I actually don’t think you missed a single one.”
“‘course not,” I said. “I was your number one fan. Probably still am.”
“Oh no.” Ryder laughed. “My number one fan is Gladys. She’s sixty-seven, lives in Chattanooga, Tennessee, has three adult kids who’ve moved out and started families of their own, and a husband who sits through all my movies with her and never complains. She also has two rescue greyhounds. They’re called Pinky and The Brain. The Brain is… not a smart dog.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“She messages me,” Ryder said. “I dunno, I do actually like her. She’s sweet. She’s the only person other than you and Seth who’s been nice to me this week. Promised she was still my number one fan no matter what and that she’d always supported gay rights.”
“That… is actually kinda sweet, I think?” Ryder said.
“Considering some of the messages I’ve gotten? Yeah, definitely on the sweet end of the scale. Her’s was the only one I opened to read all the way.”
I’d almost forgotten that Ryder’s problem wasn’t just that he needed a fake boyfriend, it was that a whole series of things had happened to him and he was still reeling from it and struggling to keep his head above water. It wasn’t just a problem to solve, it was a storm to weather.
All I wanted was to hold Ryder’s hand and promise I’d weather it with him. That was all I’d been trying to do.
“Listen—”
