Halfway down the street, Ryder stopped suddenly.
"What?"
He crouched, plucked something from the ground, and stood, holding out a small wildflower. "For you."
I blinked at it. "You just picked that out of a crack in the sidewalk."
"Yeah," he said simply, as though that was the whole point.
I took it, despite myself.
"Remember that time you swore you could keep succulents alive?" he asked as we started walking again.
I groaned. "They were defective plants. That wasn't my fault."
"They were not defective."
"They were already half-dead when I got them!"
"They were thriving until you drowned them," He laughed, the sound warm and unguarded, then slowed his steps. When he glanced at me, something in his eyes made my breath falter. "You know," he said quietly, almost reverently, "even when you're killing plants, you're... captivating. The way your handssink into the soil, your hair slipping forward, that little crease between your brows when you're concentrating—"
I blinked, startled, unsure what to do with the rush of heat to my cheeks.
He pressed on, voice tender. "It's not just your face. It's the way you move through the world. The way you get frustrated over small things, the way you defend your hopeless succulents as if they matter more than anything. I see all of it. I've always seen you. Always admired you."
He paused, his smile flickering, then softened into something almost aching. "I only wish I'd found you when I was ready, when I wasn't broken. If I could go back in time, I'd hold myself back until I'd fixed the mess I was. I'd have stayed at a distance, just coaching you, protecting you from me. But the truth is... even in the dark, even in the chaos, my heart was already yours. It still is, always."
My heart stumbled against my ribs, a fragile, restless storm I knew he couldn't hear. I didn't answer, just let his words hover, soft and radiant in the air between us. And though every part of me longed to let them in, I kept my defenses locked tight, hiding what he must never see.
Chapter 22: Sunlight and Sweat
I woke to sunlight spilling through the curtains in golden stripes. The rich scent of coffee drifted from the kitchen, warm and grounding, pulling me out of sleep. Margot was already at thetable, glasses perched on the end of her nose as she sipped her coffee. Her silver-streaked hair was swept up into a loose bun that had probably taken her all of thirty seconds to do but still looked elegant. She was scrolling through her phone with one finger.
I poured myself coffee, the mug warm against my palms, and wandered to the window. The breeze slipped in when I cracked it open—fresh, clean, carrying a hint of cut grass, and then I froze.
Because outside, Ryder was running.
Shirtless.
Sweaty.
Sunlight catching on every line of him like the universe had commissioned an artist just for this moment.
My breath hitched. I could practically feel my pulse skittering, as if my heart had forgotten its rhythm. He looked like something pulled from a dream I would never admit to having.
"You have a bit of drool there," Margot said, her voice maddeningly casual, not even glancing up from her phone.
I snapped my head toward her, heat rushing to my cheeks. "I do not."
She finally looked up, "You do. And honestly? I get it, the man looks like an ad for bad decisions."
"Margot..." I groaned.
She leaned back in her chair, eyes sparkling. "He looks like sin went jogging."
"Oh my God."
"I'm serious! He looks like he was sculpted out of poor life choices and coconut oil."
