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I roll my eyes, a smirk playing on my lips. “You’ve always been able to see right through our bullshit.”
“Damn right, I have,” she tells me. “Which is exactly how I know that you snuck through the back door too. You really think I’d buy that crap about Nancy from next door liking my rose bushes? That woman can’t stand my rose bushes. She’s been jealous of them for ten years.”
Ahhhh shit.
“Speaking of being able to see right through your bullshit,” she continues. “Don’t tell me the reason you’re not putting yourself out there is because of this ridiculous crush on Izaac.”
I blanch, my gaze quickly shooting around the room in a panic. This insane crush has been the worst-kept secret for as long as I can remember. My family has teased me relentlessly for it over the years, but since I turned eighteen, it’s become a taboo topic, especially with Austin.
My brother hates it.
The second it’s brought up, he shuts down, and so I make a point not to mention anything about Izaac when Austin’s around. We’ve never actually had a conversation about it, and he hasn’t given me the time of day to actually explain why he’s so against the idea. But I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway. Izaac knows I’m off-limits just as much as I know that he is. Only difference is, Izaac has never looked at me as anything more than a little sister.
“Mom,” I scold, lowering my tone. “Do we really have to talk about this now? Austin could walk in at any moment.”
“Please,” she scoffs. “Your brother won’t be coming back in here any time soon, not now that he’s terrified of facing my wrath for being late. Now, tell me what I need to know, or I’ll have no choice but to keep asking, and who knows, Izaac will be here soon, and the question might accidentally slip out of my mouth right in the middle of lunch.”
I level her with a hard stare. “You wouldn’t.”
She stares right back, her gaze just as ferocious as mine. “Want to make a bet?”
Shit.
If there’s anything I’ve learned over the past twenty-two years, it’s don’t challenge Momma Ryder, because I will lose. Every. Damn. Time.
Letting out a heavy breath, I fall back against the counter, peeling the layers of my carefully placed mask back and letting her see the real pain in my eyes, the agony of being so desperately in love with someone but not being able to scream it from the rooftops. Not being able to feel their touch, their love. It’s the most agonizing thing I’ve ever felt, and I know without a doubt that it will never go away.
“It’s not some little girl’s ridiculous crush, Mom,” I murmur. “Not anymore. I’ve been deeply in love with him since before I can remember, and I don’t know how to make it stop.”
“Oh, honey,” she says, stepping into me and pulling me into a warm hug.
“I know it’s never going to happen, that it can’t happen, but I don’t know how to move past it. How do I train my heart not to love something I’ve always wanted so much?”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really wish I had the answers for you,” she tells me, her hand moving up and down my back just like she used to when she was trying to soothe me as a little girl. “All I know is that you need to try. You need to find a different version of happiness. It’s out there for you somewhere. The journey is in discovering where, but the true adventure is what happens once you find it.”
5
IZAAC
Making my way up the long driveway of the Ryder estate, I look up at the home I was practically raised in. Every holiday, birthday, and event, I was here, not to mention every minute of my spare time. After school, I came here. After football practice, here. After I fucked up my first date, here. Don’t get me wrong, there were plenty of times Austin and I hung out at my place, but my family home is cold whereas the four walls of the Ryder estate . . . that’s a real home.
My parents are great. They adopted me when I was six years old, gave me a warm bed and a home, and they loved me in the best way they could, but with them, work always came first. They instilled the importance of being a beast in the boardroom, but when it came to teaching affection and the importance of family, I got that from the Ryders.
My father built his brand from the ground up and became exactly what he always wanted me to be—a killer in business. He owns a huge vineyard out in Napa Valley that was responsible for our family’s wealth, and from there, my father’s legacy has become unlike any other. He has worked himself to the bone, and I’m quickly following in his footsteps, putting all of my efforts into building my brand as the top nightclub owner in the country. I still have a fair way to go, but I’ve always been taught to dream big. The sky is the fucking limit and all that shit.
As for Mom, I don’t even think she knows what she does. She lives the life of a socialite and thrives as the head of the women’s committee at the country club. But honestly, I think it’s a made-up group their husbands created to give them something to do while they drink and play golf.
By the time I was thirteen, my parents had all but forgotten I lived in their home. But it was fine because I preferred being here.
I’ve always preferred being here.
This place is my second home, even now as a grown man, I wouldn’t have it any other way. It didn’t take long for Marc and Angella to accept that I was a permanent fixture in their home. The second Austin and I bonded over ice hockey, it was set in stone.
My Escalade rolls to a stop at the top of the circular driveway, right between Austin’s Range Rover and Aspen’s white Corvette—her twenty-first birthday present from her parents. I can’t help but grin as my gaze sails over the car. There’s no denying it, it’s a nice car. It’s been Aspen’s dream car since before I can remember, and the day she got it . . . fuck. My ears are still ringing from the way she screamed. I still remember her face-splitting grin. I’ve never seen anyone light up like that.
Getting out of my car, I make my way up the front steps of the Ryder estate, making a point to glance at Angella’s roses, knowing damn well she’s going to ask me what I think. She’s been obsessed with those damn things since the day they were planted when I was a kid, and though they’ve thrived in her garden, they look the same to me as they did ten years ago.
When I get to the front door, I walk straight inside and follow the noise. I hear the familiar sound of plates shifting around in the dining room, and I spare a glance at my watch, double-checking that I’m not late, but it’s still a quarter to twelve. I’m right on time.
