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Her chin rises. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

I can’t.

She knows it.

“That’s not enough.”

“Maybe not.”

Her voice softens. “But that’s my decision too.”

Fuck.

She’s right.

For eighteen years, I’ve told everybody in Devil’s Peak to go fuck themselves because they don’t get to decide who Ryder Hale is.

Now I’m doing the exact same thing to Clara.

Deciding she’s too good.

Too innocent.

Too safe.

Deciding what she deserves without bothering to ask what she wants.

“You don’t get to spend eighteen years angry that everyone else decided who you were, then turn around and decide what I want for me.”

I look at her.

Really look at her.

She isn’t eleven anymore.

She isn’t Lila’s little friend.

She isn’t Evan’s abandoned ex.

And she sure as hell isn’t Devil’s Peak’s good girl standing around waiting for somebody to tell her what she’s allowed to want.

She’s Clara.

And apparently she wants me.

“Tell me what you want, Clara.”

Her breath catches. “You.”

My jaw tightens. “Say it again.”

“You, Ryder.”

“Not because I’m the asshole your ex hates.”

“No.”

“Not because you want to piss off this town.”