Page 73 of No Good Fight

“Subtle, Ryder. Real freaking subtle."

“I wasn’t aiming for subtle. I’m embracing the obsession now that you’re aware of it. And, I want to keep you safe, so let me.”

That should annoy me.

It does.

It also makes it easier to get out of the truck.

I cross the street with my coffee, muffin bag, and laptop, then refuse to look back until I reach the office door. When I finally glance over my shoulder, Ryder is still there with one hand braced on the wheel, watching me with an expression so fierce I’m sure the space between us is about to combust.

I lift the paper bag and wave him away.

He points at it like an order then goes even further by mouthing eat at me like I don’t get the meaning.

I roll my eyes and go inside before he can read my emotions too clearly.

Against every single screaming reaction I have to men in general, Ryder isn’t them.

Ryder isn’t Preston.

And my body and brain are in complete agreement…it’s just my trauma that’s holding me back.

14

ALEX

The newsroom is loud enough to feel normal.

Phones ring. The copier makes a grinding noise that suggests it has been begging for death since 2007. Linda stands in the break area stirring oatmeal with the focus of a scientist handling unstable material. Sam is on the phone at the sports desk, nodding like the person on the other end can see him.

Marcy spots me from her office doorway.

Her face changes.

Not a lot. Just enough.

I hate that I know the look now.

“I’m working,” I tell her before she can ask.

Marcy lowers the red pen in her hand. “Good morning to you too.”

“Morning implies optimism. I’m not committing.”

Sam swivels his chair halfway around, phone tucked against his shoulder. “That smells like muffin.”

“It’s medicinal,” I tell him, setting the paper bag on my desk.

“Is there a second medicinal muffin?”

“No, but I have a banana you can have if you promise not to describe last night’s hockey game to me.”

He looks tempted, which says troubling things about both the banana and hockey.

I hang my purse on the back of my chair and set my laptop bag beside the desk. The normal motions help. Chair. Bag. Coffee. Computer. The little rituals of being a person with a job instead of a woman with an ex who keeps finding new ways to remind her she is watched.

I reach for my keyboard.