Chapter 10 #2
I pull back to look at him. His eyes are wide, something like panic flickering in their depths. His throat works but no sound comes out.
He's not going to say it back.
The realization hits like ice water. I knew he might not be ready. I told myself I was okay with that. That saying it was enough, that I didn't need to hear it returned.
But sitting here, watching him struggle for words he can't find, I realize I'm not okay. Not even close.
"You don't have to say it back." I try to smile. My face feels stiff. "I just... I needed you to know."
"Lucy—" His voice cracks.
"It's okay. Really." I slide off his lap, putting distance between us. My legs feel shaky. "I know you're not there yet. I'm not trying to pressure you. I just..."
I can't finish. Don't know what I'm trying to say.
He reaches for me. I let him pull me back against his chest, but it feels different now. There's a hollow space where the words should be. A silence that echoes.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs into my hair.
"Don't be." I force brightness into my tone. "I meant it. I love you. That requires nothing from you."
Liar. I want everything from him. I want him to say it back, want him to stay, want him to choose me over Boston and his career and all the logical reasons he should leave.
But I can't ask for that. I won't.
His arms tighten around me. "Lucy, I—"
"It's okay," I say again. If I say it enough times, maybe it will become true. "Really. I promise."
We sit in the heavy quiet, holding each other. I try not to feel the absence of words. Try not to notice how carefully he's breathing, like he's afraid I'll shatter.
Maybe I will.
"Stay?" he asks finally. Voice rough. "Tonight?"
I should say no. Should go back to my room, put space between us until this ache in my chest fades.
But I nod against his shoulder. "Yeah. I'll stay."
We move to the bed together, a tangle of limbs and unspoken feelings. He makes love to me slowly. Tenderly. Like I'm something precious he's afraid to break. His hands map my body with reverence, his mouth following. He whispers my name like a prayer, over and over, until it's the only word I hear.
I try not to cry.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, his heartbeat slowing beneath my palm. He holds me tighter than usual, face buried in my hair. I keep my breathing even, pretending to drift off even as my mind races.
I love you, I told him. Three words I've never said to anyone outside my family. Three words that felt inevitable and terrifying and true.
And he couldn't say them back.
I understand why. He's leaving soon. Long distance is hard. He doesn't want to make promises he can't keep. Maybe he thinks not saying it will hurt less when he goes.
Or maybe he just doesn't feel it.
That thought makes my chest ache worse than anything.
His breathing evens out. Sleep claims him, but his arms stay locked around me. Like even unconscious, he's afraid I'll leave.
I won't.
I trace patterns on his chest, memorizing this. The weight of him beside me. The way our bodies fit. The sound of his breathing, deep and steady.
I love you, I think at him. I love you, and it's okay that you can't say it back. I can love you enough for both of us.
But lying in the dark, wrapped in his arms, I'm not sure that's true.
Sleep comes eventually, fitful and uneasy. When I wake, sunlight is streaming through the window and Ryder's lips are on my shoulder.
"Merry Christmas," he murmurs against my skin.
I stretch, smiling despite the lingering ache in my chest. "What time is it?"
"Early. Six, maybe." He props himself on one elbow, looking down at me. "I wanted to give us a little time before everyone wakes up."
Before we have to pretend again. Before we go back to being just friends in front of my family.
"Smart man." I reach up, tracing the line of his jaw. He leans into my touch, eyes closing.
He looks younger like this. Softer. Less guarded.
I love you, I think. Wonder if I'll ever say it again.
"We should probably—" I start.
A knock echoes from down the hall. Connor's voice, muffled: "Lulu? Time to wake up. Christmas morning!"
We both freeze.
"He's at my door," I whisper.
Another knock. "Lucy? You awake?"
Ryder and I stare at each other. My room is empty. My bed obviously slept in but unoccupied. If Connor opens the door—
"I'm up!" I call, trying to sound groggy. "Give me a minute!"
Silence. Then footsteps moving away.
I let out a breath. "That was close."
"Too close." Ryder sits up, running a hand through his hair. "You should—"
The footsteps stop. Right outside Ryder's door.
Connor's voice, closer now: "Ryder? You awake, man?"
"Yeah," Ryder calls. His eyes meet mine. "Just getting dressed. Be out in a second."
"Cool. I'll wake Maisie."
The footsteps retreat again. I wait until I hear Connor's door open and close before I exhale.
"I need to get back to my room." I slip out of bed, searching for my clothes. "Before—"
"Lucy." Ryder catches my wrist, pulling me back for a kiss. It's soft. Sweet. Almost apologetic. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," I whisper back.
I pull on his t-shirt from last night, grab my leggings, and slip back through the bathroom to my room. I close the door on my side just as I hear Maisie's excited squeal from down the hall.
Close. Too close.
I change quickly, then pause in front of my mirror. My reflection looks the same as always—same brown eyes, same unruly hair. But I feel different. Like I'm carrying something fragile inside me, something that might break if I'm not careful.
I love you.
I said it. I can't unsay it. Can't pretend I don't feel it just because he couldn't return it.
But I can pretend it doesn't hurt.
Ten minutes later, dressed and composed, I take a deep breath and head downstairs.
The living room is chaos—wrapping paper everywhere, Maisie squealing over each present, Emma making coffee, Dad documenting everything with his phone.
Connor and Ryder are on the couch, laughing about something, easy and comfortable like they've always been.
I slip into the room, settling on the floor beside Maisie.
"Lucy!" She launches herself at me, showing me a new doll. "Look what Santa brought!"
"She's beautiful." I hug my niece, breathing in her little-kid smell—shampoo and candy canes and innocence.
Over her head, my eyes meet Ryder's. He smiles, small and private. For me.
I smile back.
We can do this. Pretend everything is normal. Hide this beautiful, complicated thing between us until he leaves and distance makes it easier.
Or destroys us completely.
But that's a problem for later. Right now, it's Christmas morning, and my family is happy, and Ryder is here. I'll take what I can get.
***
Later, after presents are opened and breakfast is eaten, I slip outside for air. The morning is cold, bright, perfect. Snow covers everything, turning Pine Hollow into a postcard.
The front door opens behind me.
"You okay?" Connor asks, coming to stand beside me.
"Yeah." I force a smile. "Just needed a minute. It's a lot in there."
"Maisie's pretty wound up." He's quiet for a moment. "You've seemed different lately. Happier, maybe. But also... I don't know. Sad?"
My heart skips. "I'm fine, Connor."
"You sure? Because if something's wrong, you can tell me. You know that, right?"
I look at my brother—solid, dependable Connor who's spent his whole life protecting me. Who would do anything for the people he loves. Who trusts Ryder completely and has no idea his best friend has been sleeping with his sister.
"I know," I say. "But I promise. I'm okay."
He studies me for another moment, then nods. "Okay. But Lucy? Whatever it is, whenever you're ready—I'm here."
He goes back inside.
I stay on the porch, watching the sun climb higher, and wonder how much longer we can keep this secret.
Wonder what will happen when it finally comes out.
The day passes in a blur of family time and forced normalcy.
Dinner with everyone gathered around the table.
Board games with Maisie. Connor and Ryder watching hockey highlights while I help Emma clean up.
Every moment feeling both precious and fragile, like something that could shatter at any second.
That night, long after everyone else has gone to bed, I lie awake in my room, staring at the ceiling.
I can't sleep. My mind won't stop spinning.
The memory of Ryder's silence when I said I loved him sits heavy in my chest. The key to his apartment burns in my pocket where I tucked it after getting dressed this morning.
In a few days we'll go to the team's New Year's Eve party together—our first real public appearance as a couple, even if we haven't told Connor yet. And then—
And then he leaves for good.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand. A text from Ryder: You awake?
I type back: Yeah. Can't sleep.
Me neither. Meet me outside? Need some air.
I should say no. Should stay in bed where it's safe. But my feet are on the floor before I can think better of it.
I slip on leggings under my sleep shirt, grab a hoodie, and pad through the silent house. The stairs creak under my weight, and I freeze, holding my breath. Nothing. No doors opening, no voices. The house stays quiet.
Ryder's waiting by the front door, already in his jacket. His eyes meet mine in the darkness, and something passes between us. Understanding, maybe. Or desperation.
We slip outside together.
The cold hits like a slap, sharp and clean. The driveway is empty, the street quiet. Christmas lights glow from neighboring houses, but ours is dark except for the porch light someone left on. Our breath comes out in white puffs, hanging in the air between us.
"Hey," he says. Soft. Intimate.
"Hey."
We stand there, a foot of space between us that feels like miles. I want to close it. Want to press against him and feel his warmth and forget about Boston and distance and all the ways this could fall apart.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you," Ryder says. His voice is rough with something I can't name. "About earlier. About what you said."
My chest tightens. "You don't have to—"
"I do." He steps closer. Close enough that I can see the conflict in his eyes, the way his jaw is tight with tension. "Lucy, I—"
He stops. Shakes his head like he's trying to clear it.
"I'm not good at this. At saying what I feel. But you need to know—what we have, it matters. You matter. More than anything has mattered in a long time."
It's not I love you. But it's something. Maybe it's all he has right now.
"I know," I whisper.
"Do you?" He reaches for me, his hand finding my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. "Because I'm terrified I'm going to mess this up. That I already am messing it up. And the thought of hurting you—"
I kiss him before he can finish. Before he can spiral into all the reasons this is complicated. His mouth opens under mine, and he makes a sound low in his throat that sends heat through my whole body despite the cold.
The kiss deepens. His hands find my waist, pulling me flush against him. I can feel his heart pounding through his jacket, can taste the mint of his toothpaste, can feel the desperate edge to the way he holds me. Like I might disappear if he lets go.
When we break apart, we're both breathing hard. His forehead rests against mine, his breath warm on my face.
"Lucy," he murmurs. Just my name, but the way he says it sounds like a promise.
"I know," I say again. Because I do. I know he's scared. I know he's leaving. I know this is messy and complicated and probably a terrible idea.
But right now, standing in the cold with his arms around me and his mouth still tingling from his kiss, I don't care.
He kisses me again. Slower this time. Sweeter. Like he's memorizing the taste of me, the feel of me against him. My hands find their way into his hair, and he groans, pulling me closer still.
I lose track of time. Could be seconds or minutes or hours. All I know is him—the solid warmth of his body, the way his hands map my spine, the sound of his breathing mixing with mine in the frozen air.
That's when the front door slams open.