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“What?”
“You’re up and out of bed.”
“I… I guess I am.”
“Fucking hell, Kitty Kat, you’ve had me going out of my mind.”
“You weren’t fighting?”
“You thought we were… shit, Kitten. Come here.” Ryder dumps the glass on the counter and strides over to me, pulling me into his arms. “We were straightening out a few things, yeah. But we weren’t fighting.”
His hands run up and down my spine as I shudder against him. Then he pulls back to look down at me. “It’s good to see you up and about, darlin’.”
“I… I thought—”
“I’m going to get some fresh air,” Styx rushes out, stomping through the living room and disappearing outside.
“Is he okay?”
“I think he’s probably a little shocked right now. He’ll come around.” Ryder rests his chin on the top of my head. “What do you need?”
“Some food, maybe.” My stomach growls with approval. “And ice cream. Lots and lots of ice cream.”
“Our girl must be feeling a little better.”
Our girl.
Why does that invoke a warm rush of emotion inside me? It shouldn’t.
I should still be angry at them.
I am.
But I’m tired of being switched off to everyone and everything. I’m tired of how much it hurts.
“Come on, Kitten.” Ryder slips his hand under my thighs and lifts me up, cradling me against his body. “You sit right there.” He drops me on the couch. “And I’ll take care of everything.”
“I’d like that.”
His gaze lowers to my mouth and something stirs inside me. He wants to kiss me but I’m not sure I’m ready for that so I glance away, breaking the connection between us.
“I’ll… uh, food.”
I don’t think I’ve ever heard Ryder Montrou nervous before, and it softens something in me.
Grabbing the television remote, I channel surf, landing on some docuseries that plays in the background as I watch Ryder in the kitchen. He glances over every few seconds, as if he’s keeping an eye on me.
But the temperature in the room cools the second Styx steps back inside.
“Hey, man, you hungry? Our girl is ready to eat.”
Styx’s eyes flash to mine and this time, neither of us look away.
“You two should talk,” Ryder suggests. “While I handle the food.”
Styx hesitates, running a hand down his face.
“Do you want to sit?” I ask, hating how things are between us now.
