Chapter 23 The Edge of Trust
I finished work and stepped outside, expecting to see Ryder waiting for me. He wasn't there. A small twinge of disappointment gnawed at me, but then my phone buzzed. It was January.
"Hey, Jan," I said.
"Hey," she answered, her voice short, clipped, almost hesitant.
"Are you okay?" I asked, trying to read between the pauses.
"Yeah... I mean, yeah," she stammered, and there was a tremor I couldn't place.
"Jan... you're scaring me. What happened?"
"Nothing I can't handle," she said quickly, but then added, her voice barely a whisper, "Just promise me something. If you ever see... something about me, please... don't let it change the way you see me."
"What?? What are you talking about?" I demanded, alarm rising in my chest.
"Just promise me this," she repeated, more firmly, but still fragile.
"Of course I promise. I love you, Jan. Please... I am here if you need me," I said, my voice tight with worry.
There was a pause, long enough for my chest to tighten, before she murmured, "Yeah..I might need you..." and hung up.
I stopped walking, feeling a hollow unease settle over me. I typed her a quick message: I'm here if and when you need to talk. I will always be here for you.
The uneasy feeling clung to me as I headed home. When I arrived, I found Margot and tried to sound casual, though worry edged my voice. "So, how do you know Jan, Margot?"
"That's her story to tell," Margot said lightly, but then her expression softened. " My baby's a tough cookie. Don't worry about her; she'll be fine."
"You really think so? I just... I'm worried," I admitted, still uncertain.
"Don't," she said firmly, leaving no room for doubt. "She'll be fine. Now, go check on your Adonis, he's working with Billy."
I rolled my eyes but then nodded, letting Margot's reassurance settle slightly in my chest, and headed to the jewellery workshop.
The door was open, and inside, they hadn't noticed me yet.
Billy and Ryder were deep in conversation, their voices low and concentrated—something about tools and metals, maybe a design, though I couldn't hear the words clearly.
Then Billy looked up and saw me standing in the doorway. A smile spread across his face. "Come in," he said, gesturing me over.
I stepped inside, the workshop warm and filled with the faint, sharp scent of metal and polish.
Sunlight filtered through the high windows, glinting off scattered tools and half-finished jewellery pieces.
Ryder's hands were steady, precise, threading a tiny chain through a delicate pendant.
He looked up briefly, catching my eye, and gave a small, almost imperceptible smile, then he looked worried.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice quiet, careful.
I forced a nod. "Yeah... just a long day."
Ryder didn't press, but I could tell he felt my distraction. My thoughts kept slipping back to January, her words circling in my mind like a half-finished song. After Margot called Billy away, I was just about to leave when Ryder spoke, his voice soft and curious.
"So... really, what happened? You look worried."
"Yeah... about Jan," I admitted.
"Is she okay? Does she need anything?"
I smiled, the tension in my chest easing a little. "You became friends?"
"Yeah. Does that upset you?"
"Why would it upset me? She's a wonderful friend."
"Yeah, she is. Is she... okay?"
"I don't know. I hope so."
"She'll come to you when she needs to," he said quietly, and I believed him.
There was a pause, and then I asked, "Anyway... what are you making?"
"You'll see, Ven," he said, trying to sound mysterious, though he was secretly grinning.
"Oh my God. What is Ven? Some kind of secret code? A potion? A trap?"
He laughed, not taking his eyes off the jewel he was working on. "You'll know eventually. Patience, young apprentice."
I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Then I'll call you... Denn, Ten, Sin. Or maybe Dr. Mysterio, Keeper of Secrets, Master of Gems—take your pick."
He threw his head back, laughing so easily it made my chest warm. "I'll take all of them. And you'll owe me a dramatic bow next time you say it."
"Ugh, you're insufferable," I muttered, but I couldn't stop smiling.
He waved a hand over his work, still grinning. "Go on, then. Keep guessing. The suspense is half the fun." With that, I wandered back to my room, shaking my head and laughing softly.
The next morning, I was halfway out the door when I froze.
Ryder was standing in the courtyard, talking to someone, a woman I didn't recognize.
She was tall, pretty, laughing a little too loudly at something he'd said.
A sharp, unwelcome pang stabbed through my chest. I tightened my grip on my bag, told myself to keep walking.
It was none of my business. He was allowed to talk to whoever he wanted.
But then I heard her voice float over the quiet morning air.
"Come on, Ryder," she was saying, her tone playful, coaxing. "You can't seriously be turning me down. It doesn't even have to mean anything. Just... fun. Do you have someone?"
I went very still. Ryder's reply was calm, steady but it carried enough weight to still me completely. "Technically, I'm single," he said, and my stomach twisted at those words until he added, "But my heart already belongs to someone and that's not going to change."
My breath caught. There was a pause, and then she laughed lightly, like she thought he was joking. "So what? Can't it just be physical? No strings?"
"No," Ryder said simply, and there was a quiet finality in the word that made my chest ache. "I'm not interested. "
I backed away before either of them could see me, my pulse thudding in my ears. I should have felt triumphant and part of me did. He hadn't just turned her down, he had said out loud that his heart belonged to me. But instead of relief, a wave of something sharp and miserable rolled through me.
Because I wanted to believe him. I wanted to run to him right then, throw myself into his arms and say, Fine, yes, I'm yours, let's build something real. But I couldn't. Because wanting him was one thing. Trusting him and trusting myself was another.
What if he changed his mind? What if he left?
What if all of this crumbled and I was the fool who believed too easily?
The questions circled like vultures, picking at the edges of my resolve.
I hated that I was still this broken, still this cautious.
I hated that no matter what Ryder does or says, it still wasn't enough to silence the fear clawing at my chest.
By the time I reached the school, my thoughts were a storm cloud I couldn't shake.
"Who kicked your puppy?" Finn's voice broke through my haze.
"Hi, Finn," I said dryly, forcing a half-smile. "No one. Just me versus my own brain."
"Then you need caffeine," he said with an easy grin. "Join me for coffee after work. My treat. We'll swap depressing thoughts."
"Finn, I told you—"
He held up his hands. "I know. I get it. Just friends. Promise. No agenda this time, scout's honor."
I hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. I could use the distraction."
Truth was, I needed to vent. Something was clearly going on with January, so I wasn't about to add to her load. And May? She was no help, drifting through life with her endless mantra of love, forgive, forget. Beautiful words, sure, until you were the one left holding a bruised heart.
Later, at the café, we found a quiet corner table, the warm hum of conversation around us softening the edges of my mood. Finn didn't waste time.
"So," he said, leaning back in his chair, "if your heart already belongs to someone else, why not just... try again with him?"
I let out a startled laugh. "Right to the core of the story, huh?"
"You know me," he said, shrugging. "No use dancing around it. So? Why not?"
"Because..." I trailed off, staring down at my coffee.
"Does he have someone else?" Finn asked gently, watching me over the rim of his cup.
"No," I said, my voice a little too fast.
"He doesn't want you?"
"No." I let out a sharp breath. "He does."
Finn tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "So you don't love him."
A bitter little laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "I do."
His expression softened. "So he hurt you?"
"Yes." The word landed like a stone between us. His brows knit together, concern flickering in his eyes, so I rushed to clarify. "Not like that! Actually..anyway, he said things, he did things.."
Finn was quiet for a moment, then asked carefully, "Is he sorry?"
I hesitated, staring down at my hands. "Yeah. He is."
Finn leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table. "Then is this really about what he did? Or is it about you—about being scared to trust him again?"
Something in me just broke. The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
"I'm terrified, okay?" My voice cracked, raw and sharp in the quiet café. "I am terrified of trusting him again, of opening up, of believing it's safe only to have the floor drop out from under me. I can't survive another heartbreak like that. I can't."
Finn didn't interrupt. I finally looked away, embarrassed by how exposed I felt, he spoke.
"Did you ever actually talk to him about it?"
"I think so," I muttered, frowning down at my coffee.
"You think so?" He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "I mean, did you sit him down and address every single horrible thing he said or did? Did you actually say the words out loud and let him hear how badly he hurt you?"
I swallowed hard. "Yes... I... well, I guess... I don't know."
"Then you haven't done it," Finn said gently, but with a firmness that made my stomach twist. "And as long as you haven't faced the ugly stuff, the words, the actions, the things that made you bleed, you can't really move on."
I felt heat rise in my chest, anger or fear, I couldn't tell. "You don't get it. I'm scared of what he'll say back, Finn. What if he confirms all my worst fears?''
I stayed quiet for a moment, then whispered, "What if it hurts?"
He met my gaze steadily. "What if it heals?"