RYDER:
Her voice cracked through my chest like a hammer on steel.
“Don’t disappear again.”
Jesus. That wrecked me.
She stood in front of me, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-swollen and trembling with anger she didn’t want to feel and want she didn’t want to name. Her breath hitched and shallow, like mine. Her hands still on my chest, fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt like she didn’t know if she wanted to shove me or pull me closer.
“Then don’t make me run,” I said.
I meant every word. My voice came out low and rough, wrecked by everything I’d held back for years—especially this last week. The silence hadn’t been easy. I’d thought space would cool her down, maybe cool me down too, let her figure out what the hell she wanted. But space only made the noise louder in my head. And noth
