“Understatement,” he whispers back.
“What’s getting you the most? The party? The company? The fact that figures of authority are forcing you to be here and it goes against your rebellious nature?”
“All of it,” Ryder admits. “Ten years apart, then—”
“We all came crashing back.”
“Exactly.”
My stomach knots in tension when I hold his stare. “Hold on a little longer. Soon the job will be done, then we can scurry back out.”
That’s the conundrum I never saw coming: how am I supposed to step away now that I’ve stepped back into Ryder’s path?
He hesitates for a long pause. “I never wanted you to scurry out in the first place.”
A bite of emotion stings my eyes. I open my mouth, doubtless to confess that I’ve missed him, terribly, but it’s put on hold when a little voice interjects in the middle.
“I sawed you at the game.”
Ryder blinks away and meets the big, glassy eyes of Charlie. My nephew holds his homemade trick-or-treat bag. His smile is one capable of melting the insides.
Ryder is reserved, maybe a little guarded, but he crouches in front of Charlie and shows him a king size chocolate bar. “I sawed you too. Can I tell you something?”
“Yep.”
“Thor is my favorite superhero.”
Charlie’s mouth drops like he’s astonished. “Mine too.”
Ryder holds up his palm and waits for Charlie to give him a high five, then follows it with the candy bar.
“Daddy!” Charlie squeals as he leans against me, trying to keep his balance while he lifts the chocolate like a badge of honor. “Look what he gived me!”
Ryder straightens again and instantly stiffens. Drake stands no more than ten steps away, and for the first time in his life, I think my brother ignores his son. His focus is wholly locked in a dark showdown with Ryder Huntington.
My mom’s eyes dart between them. She looks like she’s either going to go full mom-mode and tell them to stop being stupid, or cry. I’m with her. The frustration with these two men is impossible to ignore.
All those years ago, Drake was upset by what happened, but he was supportive. He loved Ryder like a brother, and he didn’t have a problem with him being my boyfriend. I don’t know what the tipping point was, but I wish, so badly do I wish, we could go back and change the way our lives splintered from each other.
There is a horrid pressure that seems to gather around us, a suffocating cloud of secrets, hatred, and what I hope is a bit of regret at wasting ten years of friendship.
“Daddy, did you see?”
Leave it to the innocence of children to shake away the stupidity of adults. Drake looks down at his son and smiles. “That’s awesome, buddy.”
Ryder takes a step away, but his hand falls to the small of my back. I’m ridiculous. A simple, innocent touch should not be sending bolts of heat dancing up my spine, but here we are.
“I’m going to head over to the field house to finish painting the team room,” he whispers.
I study his face and understand the subtle furrow between his brows, the barely noticeable shift on his feet. He’s overwhelmed and wants to escape for a second. It’s mid-way through the party, but packed enough I doubt anyone will notice if he fades into the night.
I give him a nod of understanding when Drake peels his attention back to his son and joins my family in admiring Charlie’s haul.
Ryder leans closer, his lips against my ear. “When you’re done here, if you want to help, that’s where I’ll be.”
There is an underlying meaning in his tone. At least, I hope there is, because if he keeps talking to me in that rocky rasp, low and close to my skin, I’d meet him in the darkest, shadiest, alley anytime.
“Okay,” is all I manage to get out.
