“Three weeks.” Not counting the first week, when I’d visited her three times for injuries. “That doesn’t mean I know her.”
“And you said she doesn’t belong in a place like this.” Ryker’s voice dropped, turned almost gentle. “Your whole face changed when you said it. I’ve known you for years. I’ve never seen that look.”
The fluorescent light above us flickered. Buzzed. Went steady again.
“What do you know about her?” Ryker asked.
I glanced around the room. Lowered my voice.
“I refuse to have this conversation if I’m just gonna get lectured.”
Ryker studied me for a long moment. I could see him making the calculation. Lawyer versus friend. Strategy versus loyalty.
Finally, he sighed.
“Fine. For the next ten minutes, I’m not your lawyer, and I don’t give a shit about your parole. So, spill.”
I knew that was bullshit. Deep down, all he cared about was my parole. But he was one of my best friends, and I needed to get this off my chest.
I ran a hand over my face and exhaled.
“Truthfully? I don’t know a lot about her.” I paused. Tried to find the right words. “Beyond the obvious—she’s beautiful—I think she’s been through some serious shit in her life. I think someone’s hurt her. Maybe repeatedly. And I think she might’ve come here to get away.”
Ryker’s expression shifted. Softened. “What makes you think someone hurt her?”
“She has a scar.” My voice came out rougher than I meant it to. “And she’s jumpy. Flinches at sounds. When there was a substitute doctor, her body language was like a rabbit sensing a wolf.”
I cracked my knuckles. Slowly. One by one.
“So, is that what attracts you to her? That she’s in a vulnerable position? Some kind of damsel in distress?”
“No.” The word came out clipped. “What I admire about her is how strong she is. When a couple of inmates cornered her, she didn’t back down or cower. She stood up to them.”
I paused, trying to untangle why that moment had lodged itself so deep in my brain.
“She’s an underdog, but she acts like an alpha. Hard not to respect someone who fights when they have every reason to fold.” I cracked my knuckles again. “She has every reason to be terrified in here. This place chews people up. But she walks these halls like she owns them, even though she’s surrounded by men who’d eat her alive if given the chance. That takes courage.”
Ryker stayed quiet. Listening.
“And if she got away from some shit?” I continued. “That means she’s a survivor. She didn’t just lie down and take it. Shegot out. Started over in one of the most hostile environments imaginable.”
I leaned back, staring at a crack in the ceiling.
“Plus, she’s smart. Not just book smart.”She knows exactly how to tend to wounds. Efficient. Precise. No wasted movements.“Pretty sure she was scared of me at first, but she tried not to show it.”
I shrugged, but the gesture felt inadequate for what I was trying to say.
“I don’t know. It’s all of it. She’s this walking contradiction. Soft and hard. Scared and brave. Broken and rebuilt.” I rubbed a hand over my jaw. “When someone’s been beaten down in life and they still keep getting back up? That’s not weakness. That’s the kind of strength most people don’t have.”
Ryker didn’t say anything. I appreciated that. I’m sure there were a ton of words burning on the tip of his tongue that he was holding back.
“Plus,” I added, “she’s witty as hell. The way she talks.” I shook my head, feeling my mouth threaten to curve. “Never know what she’s going to say next. She’s given me little glimpses, like she’s testing whether I can handle it. I can’t even imagine if her guard went down and she really let herself talk to me. She’s…”
I trailed off.
Intoxicating.
That was the word.
