Page 261 of Power Play

“Tell him I’m sorry.”

My throat tightened. “I will.”

“Tell him he is welcome at Thanksgiving.”

“I’ll tell him.”

We said goodnight twice before either of us actually hung up. When the call ended, I remained on the couch with my phone pressed against my chest until the pounding in my heart settled enough for me to stand.

Ryan’s bedroom door was closed.

I walked down the hallway and stopped outside it. My hand lifted to knock, but I remembered I had a key to his apartment, half my books were mixed with his, and he had spent weeks telling me to stop behaving as though I needed permission to exist around him.

I opened the door.

Ryan sat against the headboard in the mostly dark room. The lamp beside him was off, and his phone lay facedown near his thigh. He looked over as I stepped inside, and the hard set of his jaw told me he was still furious.

“Can I have five minutes?”

He looked away. “I’m not in the mood for more bullshit, Charm.”

“I’m not bringing you bullshit.”

His eyes returned to me. “Then what is it?”

I stepped farther into the room. “I want to invite you to Thanksgiving at my parents’ house.”

Ryan stared at me as though he wasn’t sure he had heard correctly. “What?”

“My mother promised they will welcome you respectfully and give you a genuine chance.”

His brows pulled together. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I just got off the phone with her.”

Ryan sat straighter. “You called your mother?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“I asked whether she meant the messages and voice mails I had been ignoring.”

“What messages?”

I swallowed. “Different versions of we reacted badly, we want to give him a chance, and please let us fix this.”

Ryan’s expression didn’t soften.

“She said they can’t afford to lose another child because they were too afraid to let me live my own life.”

A humorless sound left him, and I frowned.

“What?”

“I don’t trust it.”

“Ryan.”