Page 143 of Power Play

“It’s what you’re afraid of.”

I stared at him, unable to deny it without lying and terrified of what the truth sounded like from his side.

Ryan looked away for a second and dragged one hand over his jaw. When his gaze returned, the vulnerability had disappeared beneath the same control he wore whenever something came too close.

“I’m not asking you to tell Lance tonight,” he said. “I’m asking whether being seen with me feels like something you need to hide.”

“It doesn’t.”

His eyes searched mine.

I wanted the answer to be true. When it was only Ryan and me, it was. I loved the way he held my hand, touched me, kissed me, and looked at me like choosing me was the easiest decision he had made all day.

The fear began when choosing him became something other people could see.

“I’m scared,” I admitted.

Ryan’s expression softened, but the guarded edge remained. “Of me?”

“Never.”

“Then what?”

“Everything that comes after people know.”

He watched me long enough that the passing headlights illuminated one side of his face and disappeared.

“Okay,” he finally said. “I can work with scared.”

The careful answer hurt more than easy reassurance would have.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize and turn it into something you have to perform better next time.” Ryan brushed his thumb once across my waist. “Just don’t lie to me about it.”

“I won’t.”

He looked at my mouth, then back at my eyes. The heat between us hadn’t disappeared, but neither had the first crack in the night.

“Get in the truck, mi hada.”

His voice was still gentle. That somehow made the ache worse.

I climbed inside while Ryan closed the door and rounded the hood. The mirror version of me returned immediately, cataloging everything I had mishandled. Too scared. Too difficult. Too weak to claim something I wanted the moment wanting it required courage.

Ryan climbed in and started the engine. His hand reached across the console, but this time he paused before touching me.

The hesitation devastated me.

I placed my hand in his.

His fingers closed around mine, warm and steady, but I knew something had changed. Ryan had always reached without wondering whether I wanted to be seen reaching back.

Now he knew I might let go.

The ride home stayed soft enough that no one else would have noticed the difference. Ryan kept my hand and turned the music down when I grew quiet. Twice, he kissed my knuckles at red lights. When we reached my apartment, he carried Walter upstairs because apparently the panda was too large for me to manage independently.

I unlocked the door, and Ryan followed me inside before placing the stuffed animal on the couch. Walter took up half of it.