“Jesus,” Ryker breathed. “You realize your face is doing something other than scowling right now? Careful. Your reputation as a pit bull might suffer irreparable damage.”
I couldn’t help it. I chuckled.
“Fucking hell.” Ryker sat back, looking at me like I’d grown a second head. “A laugh too? This woman really has you hooked.”
“I barely know her,” I repeated.
“Yeah, well …” Ryker’s voice went quieter. Almost thoughtful. “I learned recently that sometimes a connection to someone is just there. From the first moment you meet them, something shifts. You can’t really explain it. You can just feel it.”
I considered this. That was a good way to summarize it. From the first moment I met her, there was something I couldn’t quite name.
“Does she feel the same way about you?”
I wish.“Doubt it. But even if she did like me,” I said slowly, “I would never let her be with someone like me.”
Ryker tilted his head. Just waited for me to continue.
“The noble thing to do would be to keep my distance,” I admitted. “First of all, there’s no scenario where anything could ever happen between us. Even if I made parole, there’s no way someone like her would ever be with someone like me. And second of all, even if there was, I wouldn’t let her. Even if she hadn’t gone through hell in her past, she doesn’t deserve complications. And she certainly doesn’t deserve being with a violent criminal out on parole.”
“So, why do I get the feeling that’s not the end of it?”
I stared at the tattoos crawling up my arms, disappearing under my sleeves.
“I can’t stop thinking about her.”
The admission hung in the air between us. Raw. Uncomfortable.
When Ryker didn’t say anything, it made it somehow worse.
“It’s ridiculous,” I muttered. “I know barely anything about this woman. Why can’t I get her out of my head?”
Ryker was quiet for a moment. Then he leaned forward.
“Look. You’re in prison. The days blur together. Same walls. Same faces. Same goddamn routine. Maybe meeting her was exciting because it was different. New.” He paused. “But look atit this way. Maybe you can use that as motivation to want to get out on parole.”
“Did you not hear what I said?”
“I’m not saying get out on parole to be with her. I’m saying maybe she can teach you that there’s something to fight for out there.” Ryker’s voice turned serious. Quiet. “Because if you felt this way about her, you could feel this way about another woman. Life doesn’t have to be gray walls and counted hours. Life can have so much more meaning, Knox. If you just let it.”
He met my eyes.
“Every time I’ve visited you over the years, there’s been less of you behind those eyes. Like you’ve been slowly wilting. Maybe she watered your flowers. Maybe your soul is starting to bloom again.”
I stared at him. “What are you, a fucking poet now?”
Ryker laughed. “I’m just saying, as much as I don’t want you creating a complication like a crush, maybe I appreciate that she’s making you feel alive.”
Alive.
That’s what she made me feel, wasn’t it?
For fourteen years, I’d been surviving. Going through the motions. Wake up. Work out. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. The days bled into each other until they were indistinguishable. Until I stopped caring whether there was a tomorrow.
But Harper?
She made me feel like there might be a reason to see it. And whatever this was, it ran deeper than any crush.
“Time’s up,” the guard announced from the corner.
