Page 116 of No Good Fight

The kitchen goes quiet again, but this quiet doesn’t press on my chest the same way.

I look at my brother, at Nia’s hand tucked around his arm, at my parents sitting shoulder to shoulder in Ryder’s kitchen, at Ryder beside me letting me speak for myself.

“I need you to stay,” I say. “And I need you to listen.”

Josh nods once, rough and immediate. “Done.”

Mom reaches for the serving spoon like the matter is settled because food is moving again. Nia steals the last piece of bacon off Josh’s plate and kisses his cheek when he notices.

Ryder keeps my hand under the table, warm and steady, while my family fills his house with noise.

For once, I don’t try to outrun it because I’m seeing what the future holds. A life…as long as Preston doesn’t take it from me.

22

RYDER

By the time Alex’s family leaves, my kitchen looks like a crime scene staged by a bakery.

There are muffin crumbs on the counter, coffee rings on the island, a half-covered casserole dish on the stove, and a grocery bag full of things her mother insisted on leaving behind even after Alex told her three separate times that I had enough food to survive the apocalypse.

Her father checked the back door twice before he walked out, making me feel a little less crazy about my safety compulsions. Josh checked it after him. Nia kissed Alex’s cheek, stole one more muffin, and told me not to do anything “broody and legally problematic” while Josh was within driving distance.

Then the house went quiet.

Not empty. Not anymore.

Alex is standing in front of the refrigerator, reading the list her mother taped there before she left. Clothes. Toiletries. Chargers. Laptop cords. Hairbrush. Snacks she actually likes. The last part is underlined twice. Alex touches the paper with the back of one finger, then lets her hand fall before I can ask the question already sitting in my mouth.

Instead, I rinse coffee mugs and load the dishwasher because my hands need work. The front door is locked. I know because I checked it after Josh left, then checked the camera feed, then watched his truck back down the driveway until it disappeared from sight. The porch monitor shows empty steps now, three damp leaves stuck near the welcome mat, and it did show one bakery bag Nia forgot and then came back for because she has priorities.

Behind me, a magnet scrapes against the refrigerator.

Alex pulls the list down.

I glance over my shoulder.

She folds it once, carefully, and slips it into the pocket of my sweatshirt like she doesn’t want me to see her keeping it. I turn back to the sink before she has to defend the choice. Water runs hot over my hands. Coffee foam spins down the drain. The peace of being here with her is almost too much to take.

A truck engine rumbles at the end of the driveway.

My hand closes around the mug hard enough to make the ceramic knock against the side of the sink.

Alex’s head lifts.

I’m already reaching for my phone by the time the monitor changes, but my heart rate sped up for nothing.

Alex doesn’t tell me I’m overreacting.

She comes to stand beside me, close enough that her sleeve brushes my wrist, and looks at the monitor instead of me. The driver carries the boxes to the porch, takes a photo, and leaves them against the wall without touching the doorbell.

“Security stuff?” she asks.

I nod, but I don’t move until the truck backs out of the driveway.

When I open the front door, she bends for the smallest box before I can stop her. Alex pauses with the box held against her stomach. Her eyes flick to my mouth, then back to the porch camera over my shoulder.

“You almost tried to keep me inside.”