“No buts. You’re not paying me back for something he did,” I say firmly. “This isn’t on you.”
“Ryan…”
I shake my head once, cutting her off. “No, Beck. I won’t hear it. He has crossed the line too many times. Dillon has already dealt with the tires, so we can handle the rest. You and me. Together.”
Her eyes get glassy with unshed tears, and she presses her forehead to my chest. Stroking the top of her head, I hold her there—exactly where she needs to be.This situation is going to end, and I’ll be with her every step of the way.
Thirty-Three
“Bet you never dreamed you would end up being my passenger princess, did you?” I ask, glancing over at Ryan as he shifts and pushes the seat back as far as it will go.
“No, I can’t say that I did,” he grumbles, adjusting the backrest with a scowl.
It’s not my being the chauffeur that’s the problem. It’s trying to get as comfortable as possible in Nana’s compact car. Thankfully, Dillon said the tires will be in today, so Ryan won’t have to suffer much longer.
After work on Friday, I picked him up at the clinic, and we decided to camp out at his house for the weekend. Watching TV, snacking, reading, and napping. Some fooling around. He even attempted to teach me how to play chess. All very low-key and necessary after the stress of Thursday night.
When he asked me if I wanted to go for a run with him on Sunday morning, I laughed so hard, tears ran down my face. This girl doesn’t run. If he wants a running partner, Claire would be his best bet. I don’t even own running shoes.
Logan came to pick him up later that day to go to the police station and file a police report with Mason. I made up a lameexcuse to go back to the yellow house. Should I have gone with him? Probably, but I didn’t want to, and thankfully he didn’t push me.
I spent the night alone and regretted it almost immediately. So much for being an adult and living completely on my own. I’ve done it fewer than a dozen times since I moved in. It’s too soon to be so comfortable with him, but I love waking up wrapped in his strong arms.
“Are you sure you don’t mind stopping for coffee before driving me to work? It’s kind of backtracking for you,” he asks, running his hand along my thigh. If he moves it any higher then I’ll need to pull over.
“I don’t mind. I don’t want to come between you and your morning coffee, and I’m craving a cupcake.” Flicking on my signal, I turn onto the main street.
Thanks to a generous tip on Friday, I can afford to buy Ryan his breakfast this morning. It’s not much, but it’s something, and it makes me happy.
“What?” he gasps, mouth wide, eyes dancing with humour. “You want a cupcake for breakfast? I had no idea.”
Chuckling, I pull into a spot across the street from Maggie’s and turn off the engine. I feel my good mood shift in a single heartbeat when I see how busy it is inside.
When I don’t move to get out of the car, Ryan asks, “Is everything okay?”
“Maybe I should wait here,” I mumble, staring straight ahead.
Taking my hand in his, he says, “Look at me. Please.”
Sighing heavily, I turn in my seat to face him.
“What’s going on?” he asks gently, adjusting to my mood swing.
Blowing out a deep breath, I tip my head back towards the building behind me. “Aren’t you worried people will be talking about me? And by default, you?”
“No.” His brow furrows as he lightly squeezes my hand. “Are you?”
“Well, yeah. Your truck has been at Dillon’s garage all weekend. You can’t tell me that people aren’t talking about why. I can only imagine what rumours are circulating. It takes only one person to speculate before the entire town is talking about it and ultimately me. You never had any trouble until you started spending time with me.”
“You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re not responsible for Braden’s actions,” he reminds me for the tenth time since he told me that his tires were slashed. But it doesn’t matter how many times he says it, I still feel guilty. It would never have happened if I hadn’t talked back to Braden. He said I would regret it, then made sure I did.
When I don’t answer him, he gets out and rounds the front of the car to open my door.
“I’ve got you. Let’s go.” He smiles down at me and reaches for my hand. “I bet Maggie will give you extra cherries if you ask nicely.”
Taking it, I step out. Slamming the door, I say, “She better. I’m always nice.”
Holding hands, we wait for a passing delivery truck before hurrying across the street.
