Page 7 of No Good Fight

His jaw flexes once.

“I know, Allycat.”

And for one strange second, something unsettled moves quietly through me and settles between us.

Because Ryder’s attention always feels good.

That’s the problem. That’s always the problem.

I crave that warmth. Even when I shouldn’t.

Especially when it shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

I look away first.

Again.

Just like I always do.

“I should finish working,” I say quietly.

Ryder watches me for another second, his eyes lingering just a fraction of a moment too long before nodding once.

“Text Josh when you get home.”

I roll my eyes automatically to hide the sudden bite of rejection that he wants me to text my brother and not him. “You are so dramatic.”

Something unreadable flickers across his face before the mask slips back into place.

“You don’t worry enough.”

The words follow me all the way home.

So does the look in his eyes.

By the time I pull into my apartment lot a little over two hours later, my brain feels loud in the worst way.

All I’m doing is thinking about Ryder and the way he’s always there. Always watching.

The hallway light outside my apartment flickers overhead while I dig through my bag for keys.

Buzz.

Buzz.

Buzz.

I didn’t even notice that the light made noise until tonight, and it’s setting my teeth on edge.

Creepy.

Love that for me.

While I’m digging, I tap on my neighbor’s door just to let Mrs. Vance know I’m home. The older woman is nosier than anyone else I’ve ever met, but I love her to death. She appreciates the taps on her door to let her know I’m back and safe, so I don’t mind giving her that piece of me.

I unlock the door and step inside, kicking it shut behind me before dropping my camera bag onto the counter and not bothering to lock the door. The deadbolt automatically engages thirty seconds after unlocking, anyway.

But then I pause. Something feels wrong. Not obviously wrong like my house being trashed or things out of place that I can see.