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The only sign that Ryder has heard me is the slight flinch of his eyelids. His expression is blank, remote, like he’s gone somewhere else. My soul dies a little. I can’t reach him.
I suck in a calming breath. Time for some harsh truths, then. “You say Luke saved your life that day, but it doesn’t seem like it. Because what you’re doing? It’s not living. It’s not even existing. It’s torturing yourself. And I love you too much to stand by and watch you do that to yourself.”
NowI’m done. I’ve laid everything on the line. Rolled the dice. It’s up to him now. He needs to want to participate in life. I can’t do it for him.
I wait. And wait.
Ryder is still silent, his hands clenching at his sides. I guess I have my answer.
Without another word, I leave the room, quietly closing the door behind me.
Chapter Nine
Ryder
I slide to the floor, my back against the shelving unit behind me. I’m lost in a personal hell of my own making. Charity loves me. She’s loved me for years—me, the man who returned when her brother didn’t.
When I saw her holding that gun, my brain short-circuited. I was back in Helmand, under fire, with the dying screams of my brothers-in-arms ringing in my ears.
Charity brought me back a little at a time, holding me, murmuring soft words of comfort until the nightmare faded, and she filled my vision, my soul, and every pore of my body.
And then she gave me a dose of home truths, the likes of which I’ve never heard before, not even from my therapist. Her words were brutal, and they shook me to my core.
But everything she said was true. I’ve been living a half-life. Punishing myself day after day over things I can’t change, for surviving when Luke didn’t, and for falling in love with his sister. I regarded it as the ultimate betrayal, but what if it’s the ultimate gift? Charity is right. Luke’s not here, but I am.
I’ve allowed guilt to dictate my decisions, but no more.
The second I acknowledge it, a weight lifts from my shoulders. Not completely. But enough that I can breathe easier and see things clearly for the first time in years.
Holy fucking shit.
I love Charity.
More than I ever imagined loving someone.
For the first time, I allow it to wash over me, tofeelit. I don’t want to be a part of her life out of some misguided sense of duty and obligation to her brother. I want to be in her life as her lover, her mate, her husband, and the father of her children.
Everything in me wants to find her this second and throw her down on the nearest horizontal surface so I can show her with my hands and mouth and words how much I love her.
But I want to do things right. She deserves the flowers and the ring and the whole damn proposal. A plan begins to form in my mind. Tomorrow, after filming has wrapped, I’ll—
A crash from the set pulls me from my thoughts. Instantly, I’m on red alert. I check the time, surprised to see it’s after midnight. I’ve been sitting here for hours, lost in my thoughts.
And now it seems we have an intruder.
I don’t switch on the lights as I leave the storeroom. Instead, I pull the small flashlight from my shirt pocket and keep a hand on the Glock at my hip. I move silently along the corridor and approach the stage slowly, my training kicking in, my senses attuned to every sound.
Movement catches my eyes, and the beam of my flashlight falls on . . .Santa?
“Fuck,”Santa curses, covering his eyes with his arm and squinting at me.
No. Not Santa.
“Abel . . . Clarke?” I remove the beam from his eyes and off to the side so it illuminates his face without dazzling him.Abel is one of the supporting actors and made no secret that he wasn’t too happy about taking a role in this movie. Something about improving his image with a wholesome Christmas movie.
“Hey, man.” He drops his arm and flings himself into the chair on the stage.
“Uh, you know the set is closed, right?”
