Ryder, please
I stared at those two words for ten minutes when they came through. Read them over and over, itching to respond. Wanting to tell her?—
What? That I forgive her? That it’s okay she lied to me for months? That I don’t care she’s been living a double life while I poured my heart out to her like a fool?
I lock the screen and shove the phone in my pocket. She hasn’t written in four days; she’s probably moved on already and is deciding where to flee next.
A horn honks outside.
I grab my wallet and keys and head out. Remy’s truck idles in the driveway, and Rebecca is buzzing in the back seat. She waves when she sees me, gesturing for me to hurry.
I climb shotgun, and Remy doesn’t wait for me to buckle before he throws the car into reverse.
“Ready to have fun?” Rebecca asks from behind me.
“No.”
“Perfect. That’s the spirit.”
Remy snorts and pulls onto the road. Rebecca tries to make conversation a few times—asking about the herd, mentioning her progress at the flower farm—but I only grunt in response, and eventually, she gives up.
I stare out the window at the passing fields. The sun hangs low on the horizon, painting everything gold and orange. It’s beautiful.
I don’t give a damn.
My mind drifts despite my best efforts to keep it blank, slipping straight to the articles I found online when I dug into Faye’s past. Reports about Ember, the indie gaming studio she started with two other men out of a garage. Business profiles that describe her as a wunderkind, a creative genius, the heart of the company.
And headlines about a corporate scandal, each painting her in a different light: victim, villain, cautionary tale.
The last mention was a small blurb about a quiet settlement reached out of court. No admission of wrongdoing. No details.
After that, she disappeared from the news and ended up in Blue Crescent Harbor, teaching first grade under a new name, renting my cottage, and lying to me about everything.
Better I found out now. Before anything real happened between us. A woman like that—successful, connected, running a gaming company worth millions—she’s not settling in Blue Crescent Harbor. She’s playing dress-up as an elementary school teacher, slumming it in my cottage, pretending small-town life is enough for her.
But how long before she gets bored? A year, two, for the novelty to wear off before she realizes she’s wasting her time teaching ABCs when she could be jet-setting to conferences, making deals, living a bigger life?
The thought that she might actually own a private jet makes me chuckle, the sound bitter.
“Something funny?” Remy glances at me, one eyebrow raised.
“No.”
He doesn’t push me and keeps his focus on the road.
Rebecca leans forward between the seats. “You’re being a real ray of sunshine tonight.”
I grunt.
“Seriously, Ryder. When’s the last time you smiled?”
Feels like never. Definitely before Sunday. Before the tornado. Before everything went to hell, and I discovered that the woman I love doesn’t exist.
Rebecca sighs and sits back.
No one else talks until Remy pulls up at the Moonshine, the music inside pounding hard enough to spill through the closed doors.
I don’t want to be here.
