Oh God. What am I doing?
“Ivy?” His voice was low, but the hurt beneath it scraped raw against her heart.
She forced herself to speak. “I got carried away.”
The silence between them thickened under the noise of the falls.
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Is that what you think this is?”
“No.” She finally met his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes almost unraveled every defense she had left. “I think I let myself forget that in eleven days I’ll be back in England, sitting across from bank managers trying to save my family’s estate. This—us—it’s not real life. It can’t be.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “That’s bull, and you know it.”
She flinched.
“What we just felt—” He gestured between them, voice rough. “That was real. Don’t tell me it wasn’t.”
Her throat closed. She wanted to argue, to explain all the reasons this was impossible. But the words wouldn’t come.
His expression closed off, the warmth replaced by something guarded and distant. “But if that’s what you need to tell yourself…” He stepped back. “Understood.”
She turned away from him, letting the spray sting her cheeks and hide the burn of tears.
Her legs were weak, her chest hollow as she stumbled from the cavern, leaving him in the beauty of the fractured light.
She didn’t look back.
Some things were too dangerous to face twice.
14
The silencein the truck cab made it hard to breathe.
Ivy stole glances at Ryder’s profile—the rigid line of his jaw, knuckles white on the wheel.
Once he reached for the radio, then dropped his hand without turning it on, as if even music would be too much.
What am I doing? I felt safe. Wanted.
And I threw it away.
Apologies crowded her throat—messy, fragile words that might bridge the gulf she’d carved. But each time she tried, they dissolved before she could give them voice, and the only sound in the cab was the growl of the engine.
The walls she’d spent years constructing—her armor of duty and responsibility—felt paper thin. One word from him and they’d crumble again.
Ryder pulled up outside Benji’s and killed the engine. He was out of the truck before she could speak. By the time she gathered her bag, he was already rounding the hood. He opened her door, his hand steady against hers as he helped her down.
The contact sparked fire under her skin, chasing off the cold for one dangerous heartbeat. And for a moment they were tooclose—his scent of soap filling her lungs, his blue eyes flecked with silver inches from hers.
She almost spoke. Almost.
He’s shown me nothing but kindness. He’s a good man.
Ryder released her, and a couple walked past, laughing, leaning into each other. A moment so natural it almost hurt to watch. Ordinary for them. Unimaginable for her.
She stood rooted to the sidewalk as his truck rolled away, taillights fading into the afternoon shadows. Her breath snagged as the truck disappeared, as if the cold had slipped inside her coat and settled where heat should be.
Pull yourself together, Ivy.
