Ryder stares at me for only a second, but proceeds to the door. She slings her backpack over her shoulder, which I now know includes a pistol and steel-toed boots. I wonder what else she’s hiding in there, but I don’t ask. It’s only one of the thousands of questions I’ve been holding onto and racking up over the past few days.
We ride the elevator in silence. Our new normal. Both of us are tiptoeing around everything that happened the other night. We’ve discussed the threats thoroughly, including the precautions that will be taken at my upcoming game, but have avoided any and all conversations related to what I can only assume is Ryder’s life.
I respond to emails as she drives. Between practice and stopping to see Matt, the days have been full, but at night, we’ve resumed our quiet, comfortable routine. Although after we eat, we’ve been watching game tape in my room. I sit on my bed, andRyder tucks herself into the chair, biting the end of my pencil and cursing under her breath as she tries to complete my sudoku puzzles. Other than that one night, she’s gone when I wake in the morning, and I don’t like it.
I don’t like any of this, and I’m the only one who can stop it. I just have to be ready to face the truth about what that deep scar under her arm really means.
I’m a big ass coward, but really, what I want is for Ryder to tell me. I want her to trust me enough to really let me in—to ease down the impenetrable force field she surrounds herself with and allow me inside. I want to know her, who she really is, behind the badass exterior no one can touch.
She pulls through the stadium gate and waves to the security guard. “You need to be all eyes and ears today. This is casual and a good place for someone to slip up.”
She pulls into my spot at the stadium and flips down the visor, angling her head to inspect her cheek.
“It looks good,” I say as she checks to make sure the yellowing bruise is covered.
She side-eyes me. “Lyla had to give me a blending tutorial.”
“You don’t usually cover them?” The words are out before I can stop them.
She pushes the visor closed. “I don’t usuallyhaveto cover them.”
Her defensive tone is a jab to my conscience. The one that keeps telling me to stop protecting myself.
Fuck.Does she think I want her to cover them?
“You don’t have to cover it up. I don’t want—”
“Matthews.” Her calling me by my last name feels so. . .business-like, not like I held her in the middle of my bathroom. “I can’t go in there with a bruised face. The media would love that, and you don’t need more of a shitstorm than is currently taking place.”
She shoves the door open and climbs out. I quickly catch up to her.
“Hey.” I carefully reach for her elbow, sure to keep my grip light.
I wait for her to look at me, needing her to hear my words.
She reluctantly turns to face me, her shoulders relaxing in surrender as her face slowly tips up to mine.
“I don’t want you to cover anything up. Not from me. Not for them. I understand why you did, and I appreciate it, but. . . ”
There it is—my truth. I don’t want her to hide from me, and it scares the absolute shit out of me.
I want to push her sunglasses up so I can see her eyes. The greenest blue I’ve ever seen, but the tinted lenses are a shield, keeping me from really seeing her. Maybe not asking questions has let her believe my avoidance means something it doesn’t.
That distinct patch of marred skin under her arm is branded into my memory, sending raging flares throughout my body, and every muscle contracts.
I’ve been a selfish prick, shoving my head in the sand to guard myself from what I’m not sure I can handle and the unbearable rage that will erupt with confirmation of everything I’ve seen. But I’m done with that now. I won’t do that to her, Matt, or anyone else who’s suffered and survived.
I won’t be a coward for one more second.
I inhale a deep breath, shoring myself up. “What you did the other night… I don’t fully understand what happened or what it is you actually do, but I will never forget it. I don’t want to.” I pause, and her face drops toward the asphalt. “Ryder, you are extraordinary in ways I can’t fully comprehend, but. . .I want to. I want to understand.”
Sometimes, fear warns us of danger ahead, and sometimes, it just holds us back. After these past few days, if there’s anything I know for certain, it’s that I’ve never really experienced the kindof fear that exists for some. What I’ve been doing, isolating to shelter myself, is fucking ridiculous.
I make millions of dollars, have an amazing family who loves me, and I’ve never been afraid to fall asleep at night or wonder what might happen to me when I do. I’ve never been terrified of those around me or of entering a new place. I’ve never feared someone’s touch—their hands on my skin.
My fingers curl into tight fists.
She drags her head up, letting it fall to the side slightly, and I go for it. Risking it all. No holding back. Not anymore.
