Not caring what’s made him freeze, I go to race after Chuckie and leave him behind, sick of whateverthisis, but Ryker grabs my arm. He stops me in my tracks and twirls me back into his chest, his calloused fingers tight around my skin. He holds me, easily, because I don’t fight him.
His turquoise eyes pierce mine as we lock gazes. My heart backflips and dives like it’s careening off a cliff. I pray he can’t hear how wildly it’s beating.
‘Would you have been happier if …’ His voice has a hollow tone. ‘If it had been me instead?’
That old familiar feeling of pain smacks into me. That’s the thing about grief. Just as you think it’s wreaked enough havoc, it returns with a vengeance, snatching the oxygen from your lungs like the breath was never yours to have.
I don’t know what to say. I could confront him and demand answers.
Why are you here?
What’s brought you back?
Why did you leave when I needed you the most?
The questions slip to the tip of my tongue, but I don’t have the courage to ask them. My heart already aches with the fear of an answer.
So instead, I pull out of his grasp. This time, he lets me go. Ryker’s fingertips graze my skin a final time before his hand falls to his side. I turn away and call for Chuckie.
His paws pad along beside me as I stomp back toward the garage, ready to take my frustration out on the SS.
Chapter 6
Gianna
FOUR YEARS AGO
I land in the passenger seat of Ryker’s glossy black Ford Raptor with a yelp. Ryker closes my door and darts across the front of the truck before planting himself behind the wheel, his own door closing with a thud that shakes the cabin. Fear and excitement stir in my stomach between the aches of laughing so much. The clicks of our seatbelts and rushed breaths fill the air.
No, wait.Mybreaths. It’s just my heavy breathing I can hear. Peeking at Ryker next to me, he looks completely unaffected by our sprint through the halls.
I try to calm myself by inhaling through my nose, but the truck smells like him, only a thousand times more potent, and it’s like I’m sitting in a permanent Ryker hug. It’s intoxicating and warm and safe.
His eyes meet mine, glittering with that spark of mischief. A small pang of envy shoots through me. I wish I could see things the way he does.
‘Ready?’ He flashes his perfectly white teeth, stealing my breath. It’s criminal how devastating he looks.
I swallow down a sudden burst of nerves. All I can manage in response is a quick nod.
With a press of a button, the truck rumbles to life and Ryker drives out of the grounds. The stereo suddenly blasts, making me jump. The infamous ‘Money for Nothing’ guitar riff by Dire Straits fills the cab.
Ryker winks at me when he sees my grimace. ‘You gotta love the classics, Gianna.’
Reaching over, he cranks the volume impossibly louder, singing at the top of his lungs about microwave ovens and colour TVs. I’ve always been nervous about singing. I won’t even do it in the shower, but right now, I don’t care. I bust out in song with him, both of us laughing and belting out the lyrics like we’re at a concert.
‘Where are we going?’ I yell over the music.
He lowers the volume and flicks his attention between me and the road. ‘I’ve known you since you were a baby and you’ve always been like this.’
‘Like what?’
‘Wondering what’s next,’ he says, throwing me a glance. ‘Every camping trip we’ve ever been on, you always ask what we’ll be doing before we even get there. When we get ice cream, you google what flavours they have before we leave. Or when—’
‘Alright, I get it! I like to be organised.’
‘That’s my point. You need to enjoy, Gianna. Take a back seat and see what life will give you. It’s good to plan things, but say yes to the scenic route and all the detours along the way. It’s where the fun shit happens. You get me?’
‘Yeah,’ I mumble, ‘I guess so.’
