Chapter 47 Ryker
RYKER
“I need you to do something for me.”
Faith’s voice cut through the morning quiet, sharp enough to make me pause mid-reach for my coffee. She stood at the stainless steel stove, spatula in hand, the whisk now abandoned on the counter beside her, shoulders curved inward, like she was bracing for impact.
The penthouse kitchen smelled like butter and eggs, with the underlying notes of expensive coffee beans in the machine behind me. Steam rose from the pan, fogging the range hood’s gleaming surface.
Something about her tone, too steady, too controlled, made my chest tighten.
“Okay,” I said carefully.
She didn’t turn around. Just kept pushing scrambled eggs around the pan, the scrape of metal on metal filling the silence.
The morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows caught the tension in her spine, highlighting every rigid line.
Beyond the glass, the city sprawled twenty stories below, but the soundproofing made it feel like we were the only two people in the world.
Last night, I’d held her as she crumbled. Held her through restless sleep, plagued by nightmares that had her thrashing and crying out. After a few hours, she finally fell asleep. I thought we’d weathered the worst of it, but seeing her this morning, I could see that the demons had won.
“Faith.”
“If things don’t go the way we want them to …” She trailed off, and the spatula trembled in her grip. A piece of egg fell onto the burner with a soft hiss.
My fingers gripped my mug until my knuckles went white. “Don’t.”
“Ryker—”
“No.” I set my mug down harder than necessary on the marble countertop. “We’re not having this conversation.”
She spun around then, eyes blazing. “Yes, we are. You need to hear me out.”
I crossed my arms, every muscle in my body going rigid. “I don’t need to hear contingency plans for something that’s not going to happen.”
“You don’t get to decide that.” Her knuckles whitened around the spatula handle. “I need help with two things. I know it’s a lot to ask, but—”
“Faith.” I closed the distance between us and reached for her, trying to anchor her with my touch. But hope had already lost its battle in those beautiful eyes.
“Please don’t.” She stepped back, putting the kitchen island between us like a barricade. “Don’t comfort me. Not right now.”
“Is this because the crime scene photos got leaked?”
Her lips thinned into a white line. She twisted the dishcloth in her hands, wringing it like she was trying to strangle her own fear.
Okay, so that’s a yes.
The photos had made everything worse. Splashed across every news site, every social media platform. But it wasn’t just that. All night, I’d watched her wrestle with those fresh, fragmented memories that didn’t even help her case. We already knew she’d stabbed him. Once. In the neck.
“Anyone would’ve felt relieved if they’d just survived an attack,” I said, forcing my voice to soften. “Those new memories don’t change the fundamentals of your case.”
“I don’t want to talk about the memories.” She set the spatula down. “And please don’t minimize what’s actually happening, Ryker. I’m a smart woman. I can see the writing on the wall. I’m not giving up hope, I’m not giving up my fight, so you don’t need to give me a pep talk.”
This woman. So strong yet so vulnerable, all tangled into one beautiful, heartbreaking masterpiece.
The anger drained out of me, replaced by something that felt uncomfortably close to fear. “What do you need?”
“Your promise.” Her throat worked as she swallowed hard. “Two promises actually.”
I wanted to squash the conversation again because, goddammit, I did not—could not—explore plans that didn’t end in happily ever after for this woman. But I could also see that not talking about this would only give her more anxiety. “Anything.”
The word sent a cascade of emotions throughout her features. Relief, gratitude, and then, because this was Faith, guilt. She cleared her throat, gathering courage.
“First …” Her voice cracked. “If this doesn’t go the way we want … promise me you’ll find someone to take care of Rainbow for me.”
I pressed my tongue hard against the roof of my mouth, fighting for control, but she barreled on before I could speak.
“The right someone. Not just anyone.” The words tumbled out in a desperate rush. “You have to vet them. Really thoroughly. Like FBI-level background checks. Make sure they actually want a dog, not just think they do, and that they’ll never ever get rid of her.”
Behind her, Rainbow lifted her head from where she’d been dozing in a patch of sunlight, ears perked like she knew we were talking about her.
Faith’s hands shook as she gripped the edge of the counter.
“And make sure they know she loves her treats first thing in the morning. Like, the second she opens her eyes, she’s looking for her morning cookie.
And she needs her sunny spot by the window.
Every day, Ryker. At my place, or yours, she sits in a patch of sunlight and just … exists. It’s her favorite thing.”
She was rambling now, couldn’t stop, and each word cracked my chest open wider.
“She doesn’t like loud noises, so they can’t have kids under five, and she sleeps on the left side of the bed—always the left—and she has this little snore when she’s really content and—”
“Faith.” I cupped her face in my hands, forcing her to meet my eyes. “If this doesn’t go the way we want, I’ll take her.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I’ll take Rainbow.”
“But your place doesn’t allow pets. We had to sneak her in here, even temporarily. The lease specifically says—”
“I’ll move.”
The kitchen went silent except for the quiet hum of the refrigerator and the sizzle of forgotten eggs.
“You’ll … move?” Her voice pitched higher with disbelief. “You’ll move out of your penthouse? The one with the floor-to-ceiling windows and the marble countertops and the view that makes grown women weep?”
My mouth quirked up despite everything. “That’s the one.”
“Just so you can take care of a dog?” She stared at me like I’d sprouted a second head. “Ryker, you don’t even like dogs.”
“She’s not just any dog.” The intensity in my voice stopped her cold. “She means everything to you. Therefore, she means everything to me.”
I watched her process this, watched her tough-girl armor crack down the middle.
“So, yes,” I continued, thumbs brushing away tears she didn’t realize had fallen. “I would give up my penthouse, my perfect view of the city skyline. Because she’s a part of you, and I’m not losing any part of you. Not if I can help it.”
“You’d really do that?” she whispered. The disbelief in her voice gutted me. When had I made her feel like she couldn’t count on me? When had I given her reason to doubt?
Right. When you doubted her.
That moment of hesitation—that single, devastating moment when I’d questioned her story—had shattered something between us. We’d been climbing back up ever since, but the fall had been steep, and she still wasn’t sure if the rope would hold.
I pressed my forehead to hers and said, “I’d do anything for you, Faith. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”
Something shifted in her expression. Trust maybe.
Or recognition of what this meant: not just a home for Rainbow, but a promise that one of the things she loved most would be safe.
Cherished. Protected. That even if she couldn’t give Rainbow morning treats or sunny spots, someone who loved Faith would.
“Thank you.”
God, the relief in her tone did something to me. She trusted me with something that meant everything to her.
She pulled away, turning back to the stove with squared shoulders.
Her spine straightened, like she was preparing for battle.
“The second thing is bigger. It’s going to require a lot more paperwork, which is why I’m bringing it up now.
I know we probably have a few months ahead of us with court hearings and whatnot, but I need to start the legal process. ”
I studied her profile. “Okay?”
She swallowed hard. “The kids. The foster teens.”
My gut twisted. Of course. Because Faith couldn’t just worry about herself or her dog. She had to carry the weight of the entire world on those slim shoulders.
“I don’t have much money, but I do have a little equity in that house.
I’ve been doing research, and if I refinance at a better interest rate, I could use those proceeds to pay down the debt on the blue house.
It’s not much, but if I can get the mortgage payment low enough, I think the teenagers could band together and make that payment. ”
She pulled some papers from her satchel, spreading them across the countertop.
Numbers and calculations filled every margin, her neat handwriting covering every available space.
“I’ve drawn up a plan. The ownership would be split equally among the three of them, so they’d each have something in this world.
Something real. I’ve calculated the monthly payments, looked into property tax exemptions for their situation, even found a program that might help with utilities for the first year. ”
I stared at the papers, my vision blurring. She’s been up all night, working on this.
While I’d been sleeping, assuming she was finally resting, she’d been planning for a future she wouldn’t be a part of.
Those leaked photos made her feel her case was doomed.
“Faith—”
“I know it’s a lot to ask.” Her voice cracked. “I’ll be doing research online and trying to file everything myself, but I trust you. You’re a lawyer.”
“A criminal defense lawyer, Faith. Not real estate.”
Her eyes watered. First time I’d seen that particular crack in her armor, and damn if it didn’t destroy me.
“But I know other lawyers,” I said quickly, covering her hand with mine. “I’ll make sure all the right paperwork gets filed, Faith. I’ll make sure those kids are taken care of.”