PHOENIX:
One week.
One f*****g week since Ryder walked into my apartment, kissed me like I meant something, and then vanished like smoke. No calls. No random appearances. No cocky texts. Just silence.
What the hell did he think that was? Some kind of goodbye? Pay back? A hit and run of the heart?
I grit my teeth and drop the socket wrench onto the concrete with a loud clang. The sound echoes through the shop, but I don’t care. My back stays flat against the crawler, arms limp beside me. I let out a slow breath and stare up at the underbelly of the ‘76 Harley I’ve been pretending to work on for the past hour.
I’m not even thinking about the damn bike. Not even close.
All I can think about is him.
The way he looked standing in my bedroom, stupidly confident and still sleepy, the way h
