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Chapter Twelve
Ryleigh moved thenext day.
I was at the arena, packing up my shit and getting old gear together for the equipment sale, but by the time I got back, a moving truck was parked outside of her place. It was as if she planned it, waiting for me to be gone and not around to stop her.
I’d rushed over, but the only people inside her place were from the moving company, saying the woman had left already.
It would take me damn near two and a half weeks of hounding my sister to find out where Ryleigh had gone. As much as Natalie tried to get me to talk to her before my birthday, she clammed up tight right after, no doubt due to something Ryleigh had said.
My girl really was the most stubborn woman on the planet, but then again, I guessed I was pretty damn stubborn myself. I kept letting myself get pushed back, further and further away, when all I wanted to do was reel her in.
I was done.
I was going to fight for what I wanted, and what I wanted was in a pint-size package that, I eventually learned, moved to the other side of town.
Tonight was the night.
If I didn’t manage to win this battle tonight, I wasn’t sure when I was going to get another chance. Things were going to start moving fast in my life, but I needed to know if Ryleigh was going to be there with me, along for the ride.
I waited until closing time.
As the clock neared six, I parked my rocket-style bike in front of the store Natalie gave me the address to.
Through the window, I caught sight of my girl.
Except she looked different.
It was amazing what a couple of weeks could do.
Gone was her brown hair; now, it was a golden hue. However, there was no mistaking that was my Ryleigh.
I walked into the storefront—a place that had a sign announcing Studio 11’s eventual opening, which made my gut clench; it made my questions for her seem worthless of asking—and headed toward the desk, where Ryleigh was turned away from me. I watched as her body grew stiff; she knew I was here.
She knew it was me in her store.
“We’re closed,” her voice came, not that she bothered turning around. Her words sounded forced, and it gutted me. I hated that I’d put her in this position. That she’d become closed off. She was more closed off now than she had been when we met. Then, she was shy one moment, and a pistol the next. Now? Now, she was breaking my heart. “The studio doesn’t open for another week. You can call during normal business hours.”
“Ryles,” I managed, taking a hesitant step in her direction. “We need to talk.”
