Chapter Thirty-Three
Present - Evelyn
NO NEED TO lock your front door when you don’t have one.
As the elevators open to Theo and Ara’s penthouse—also Connor and Brooke’s—I’m greeted by astonishing floor-to-ceiling windows and elegant décor, belonging to a space my condo could fit into five times over. If the magnificence of their home risks it being perceived as uninviting, the cozy aroma of hot chocolate wafts toward the elevator, beckoning me inside.
“Wow.”
“Don’t get too attached,” Ara warns with a goofy grin from where she sits on the couch, clutching a mug. “We’re moving.”
“Why would you want to move out of this ?”
Ara takes a sip. “It’s a long story involving birthday cake and horrible fathers, but don’t worry, the next place is going to be just as great.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” But I can’t help myself as I continue to admire the kitchen, getting completely attached.
“Come in and make yourself at home.” Lou hits the spot next to her from where she lounges on the couch next to Ara. “The rest of us do.”
And because I had a long ass event day, putting out more fires than the local firehouse, I abandon all poise and decorum, flopping onto the couch with a huff. Pausing, I take a moment to appreciate how I disappear right into it. My couch is pretty, but it’s got a long way to go before I’d say it’s comfy.
I open my eyes, catching Lou smirking. “What?”
“ Here we go ,” Ara mutters under her breath.
“You did the dirty, didn’t you?” Lou grins like a fiend, her blue eyes piercing every layer of possible bullshit. My neck heats up, turning red and splotchy. “You totally did!”
I cover my face and nod, having absolutely no experience with this. Although Marcy has always been a loyal friend, there’s a professional relationship I must keep intact above all else. I’ve never been able to just fully…let go.
Half of me wants to spill every microscopic detail, let them squeal over the specifics the way I often do when I’m alone, while the other half ponders over what the line of demarcation is between sharing and oversharing.
“I knew it!” Lou sits forward, elbows on her knees, instantly captivated by what’s to come. “Okay, this is probably inappropriate–”
“Then you probably shouldn’t ask,” Ara grumbles before sending me an apologetic glance.
But Lou isn’t even a little fazed. “What’s Ryder like in bed?”
Ara smacks her very best friend across the shoulder.
“Erm.” I giggle uncontrollably, cheeks deepening into a shade to match my neck. “Amazing?”
Ara’s eyes crinkle suggestively, curiosity getting the better of her. “Not that I’m encouraging Lou’s behavior, but if you wanted to… you know…gush– ”
“Or describe every single sweaty –”
Ara clamps her hand over Lou’s mouth. “…this is a safe space.”
They don’t have to ask me twice. “The man makes me feel like a feather, the way he just lifts me, whenever and wherever.”
“Wherever?” A raised brow.
“I, um, well, we—got caught in a storm on the way back from visiting the foster home we grew up in.” My flush deepens. “We stopped at a church.”
“You did not!” Ara gasps, spellbound by the tale.
I smile victoriously. “We did.”
Lou launches to her feet, yowling and whistling in that way you can only do if you’re from the south. “The hot dog life is not for me, but I can appreciate what you and Ara have bagged. Brooke, on the other hand…” Lou grimaces playfully.
Hot chocolate shoots out of Ara’s nose and Lou cackles before helping her find a napkin. The golden rule of friendship glimmers in front of me, laugh first, help after. Feeling like a part of it? It’s too special for me to focus on now. “Where is Brooke, anyway?”
“She’s at the center late tonight, but she’ll be on her way home soon.” Ara lifts her mug and stands. “Now that my hot chocolate has been filtered through my nasal cavity, I’m going to get a refill. Evie, you want one?”
“Yes, please.”
“You’re so polite.” Lou sighs. “Unfortunately, we’ll beat that out of you eventually.”
A warm feeling spreads through my chest at the thought. “How did you and Ara become friends?”
“Ara tricked me into taking a horrible job.”
“I DID NOT!” Ara shouts from the kitchen.
“Kidding.” Lou snorts. “She was my only option after moving here.”
Ara bangs around the kitchen. “You make us sound like true soul mates.”
Lou’s eyes shine with mischief. “You ever meet someone one day and suddenly you’ve got no choice but to keep them?”
I nod, knowing the feeling all too well.
“It was love at first sight for us, wasn’t it, Sugar Pie?”
“Totally.” Ara rolls her eyes as she passes me a mug of hot chocolate. “You mentioned visiting a foster home and obviously have history, but we know almost nothing about Ryder. Were you very young when you met?”
Lou snatches a marshmallow from Ara’s mug, plopping it in her mouth like popcorn. There’s no sneering or a fleck of judgment in their eyes as they wait for my answer. They’re not looking at me as if I’m an outsider, or the next piece of gossip, but wear expressions full of genuine concern.
“We met in a foster home as young children. Ryder’s parents were killed in a home invasion gone wrong.” Lou covers her mouth and Ara stares into her hot chocolate, no doubt hurting for their friend, and perhaps understanding him a bit more. “I never knew my father and I lost my mother to an overdose or domestic violence, I’m not sure which it was in the end. Possibly both. Anyway, Ryder and I found ourselves thrown into the foster system.”
Ara clutches her chest. “That’s…terrible.”
“It was.” I sigh. “After my mom died, the process went pretty quickly, and I was taken to a foster home where I met Ryder. He was waiting in my room, so much bigger than me already, and he just…decided that raising me was his job.”
“I’m sorry.” Lou wipes at her eyes. “The crybaby role is usually reserved for Ara, but that is just… so …you know!?”
“I know.” A sad smile graces my face. “And so, Ryder raised me. He made sure I had a childhood, playing outside and drinking too much fruit punch. All of it. He was the only family or true friend I’d ever had. Not even my mom cared for me the way Ryder did.”
“How old were you guys?” Ara drags her sleeve across her freckled nose.
“I was seven and Ryder was eight.”
“How long were you in that home?”
“Almost seven years to the day. I was adopted when I was fourteen.”
Ara’s brows rise, the soft confusion making her look like she fell out of a Pixar movie. “That’s unusual, isn’t it?”
“Very unusual. And I just found out last week what really happened.”
Lou sits straighter, crossing her legs. “What really happened?”
“The man who was supposed to be our caretaker… he was not a good man. Cyrus did it for the paychecks, kept the kids drugged up and quiet. Ryder protected me. He’d piss Cyrus off on purpose, preventing him from looking in my direction. But the older I got, the harder it was to keep his attention off of me.” A silent tear runs down my face, the severity of the situation only dawning on me as an adult. “I found out last week— at dinner with my parents and Ryder — that they originally came for Ryder, but he sabotaged his chance at a good life so that I would have one.”
“Oh my God.” Ara covers her face, emotion churning across her features.
Lou blows her nose into a napkin, already stained with hot chocolate. “Fuck me.”
I laugh a little, through my own tears, completely and utterly seen .
Connor emerges from one of the hallways then, Dane and Rue in tow. The latter two take one look at us, huddled and crying on the couch, and make a beeline to the elevator.
Connor passes by slowly, hands raised like we’re a group of rabid animals. “I’m gonna go bring my lady some dinner.”
“That’s…sweet but…totally average.” Lou’s blue eyes crawl to mine before bursting out into a wail. Ara and I crumple over in a combination of laughs and tears, the joy mixing and spreading through the grief, until there’s no trace of it.
Connor glances at the guys waiting at the elevator, still slowly making its way to the top floor, before tipping his head toward the emergency exit. “I’d say this qualifies as an emergency situation. I’m taking the stairs.”
“I think you need one of these.” Ara throws a clean napkin at me before blowing her own nose into one herself.
As I dry my tears, it dawns on me that if the guys are out, it means rehearsal is over. The last thing I need is for Ryder to walk out and see our noses dripping everywhere on his behalf. With a sniffle, I stand. “I better go find my man.”
“The man of all mans!” Lou shouts to the sky.
Don’t I know it?
The dark, moody, damaged man who has always saved his light just for me.
“We’re doing this again, but for hours next time.” Ara stands to hug me, and I find myself not wanting to let go. Finally tearing myself away, I embrace Lou, wishing I didn’t have to go.
The girls point me in the direction of the rehearsal room and as I make my way down the hallway, I look at the photos that line the wall, mostly of Connor and Theo, but some of the whole crew.
I snort, zeroing in on one that must have been taken last Christmas. Ryder stands in the back looking sour. Lou’s mouth is open, no doubt shouting at him, while the rest of their faces strain with cheesy grins.
It’s perfection.
And I find myself counting the months until Christmas, hoping I’ll be in the next photo op.
Coming up on an open door, I find Ryder sitting on a stool, holding a piece of paper and pencil. There’s a low humming, and his foot hits the floor in timed beats. His back is slightly hunched, leaning forward in concentration with his eyes closed, barely swaying to music that I can’t hear. He’s got this focus about him, to the point where his body that’s become so attuned to mine doesn’t even notice my presence.
One hand taps along to the beat against his thigh, and the longer I look, the more torturous it becomes as my thoughts stray to what else those fingers are capable of, and how those powerful thighs hold me up so easily. He squeezes his eyes a little tighter, arching his head and tipping his head back, feeling whatever he is listening to in his soul. The beats become faster, more intense.
I’ve seen Ryder in every state.
Angry. Emo. Hopeless. Sweet. Sad. Determined. Even afraid. But never this.
Lost in creativity, completely in his element.
And more importantly, letting himself feel it.
My mouth has remained shut these weeks, but Ryder has been putting in a lot of effort for someone who still swears this is only temporary. I think he’s found something that he loves, and he’s too afraid to admit it, until something drastically changes at the bar. Maybe tonight he’s finally realized there’s more to fight for than just me.
I’m just about to back away, leave him to whatever he’s trying to figure out, when his head falls forward and he smiles. The way his eyes shine, reflecting the light around them rather than devouring it into their darkness, something has shifted. The emo version of Ryder has done it for me since day one, but the hint of wild, golden and bright weaving through his shadows, it sparks a new emotion within me.
“Hey, Eves.” Ryder stands, taking out the near invisible earbuds. I cross the room to him, his hands cradling my face and tracing my lips before covering my mouth with this.
“Hey, yourself.” I smile as he pulls away, but I come up short. Ryder hesitates.
The dark demon who never cares what anyone thinks, confident to his very core, looks at his earbuds and back at me. Bashfully.
“What is it?” I touch his cheek.
“I had an... idea ,” Ryder says with uncertainty, like he’s fumbling through a new language, his tongue struggling to find its way through such words.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. And... I kind of thought... I’d like to show it to you. I know it’s not your typical genre, but your opinion matters to me. What I want to do here is different. Ideally, it could be something that appeals to not just one genre, but across a lot of them.”
Appealing to multiple genres at once?
My curiosity peaks and I reach for the earbuds.
“Not so fast.” Ryder chuckles, holding the earbuds too high for me to reach. “I’m not done explaining.”
Resisting the urge to cross my arms and stomp my feet, there is little I can do about the impatience written all over my face as Ryder goes further into detail.
“This is me recording extra vocals over a pre-existing track. Connor and I were talking, and he mentioned the band needing something special to set it apart. I don’t know why, but our last show popped into my head, what he and I did with our vocals. So, I started playing around with it…” Ryder reaches for his phone, tapping so the song starts at the beginning. “I’ll need to take on a slightly different sound than I’m used to, and Connor will need to take a larger part of the vocals, but I think it could be…great.”
The way he details his theory is almost sensual, though he doesn’t intend it that way. It’s the effect his voice has on me when he’s describing something as deep and complex as music. “Can I listen to it now?”
“Yes.” Ryder drags his thumb across my bottom lip and gives me one more kiss before handing over the buds. I pop them into my ears, and he pushes play.
The song starts out the same way I’ve heard it before, except Ryder has added more of his own vocals over the top, adding a depth that their music didn’t previously take. Closing my eyes, I allow the sensations that come with listening to Ryder’s voice wash over me.
The song has always been good, but what Ryder has done here—just messing around as he called it—is mutinous. While Connor’s voice remains soft and light, Ryder growls and rages. Through every twist and turn of the melody, I find myself clinging on, demanding more as their voices meld together, digging deep inside my chest and transporting me to another realm.
Too quickly, it comes to an end. I take out the earbuds and open my eyes, returning to the world that Ryder’s voice stole me away from. He stands in front of me, waiting, the physical embodiment of vulnerability.
“You have to convince Connor to record this version.” My words leave no room for discussion or insecurities. “You have to.”
“You liked it?”
“ Like doesn’t even cover it.” Shaking my head in awe, I struggle for the right words and come up empty, but I know like isn’t it.
Ryder smiles. A genuine smile, full of abandon. “If I can help Blackhall take down Stefan for good, I could really do this.”
Ryder’s first real dream. A wish not for me, but for himself.
A rush shoots through me as a glimmer of the boy I knew finally reveals himself. I hastily shove the earbud back into my ear. “Play it again.”
My voice comes out rough, breathy, and Ryder doesn’t miss a goddamn beat.
Pushing play on the song once again, Ryder lifts me by my thighs and his mouth is moving on mine, telling me everything he can’t form into words. How grateful he is that I love this piece of him. How much it terrifies him to truly wish for something. His determination to face the fear.
Ryder’s vocals start up again in my ear and I lose myself entirely, the feel of his body against mine combined with the onslaught of his voice in my ears. He moves us then, closing the door with a kick before lying me back on the amp.
Taking out an earbud, I offer it to him. “Don’t you want to listen too?”
Ryder shakes his head gruffly. “I want to listen to you .”
After placing the earbud back where it came from, he supports my back with one arm, working my skirt up with the other. If anyone at the office has noticed my wardrobe shift from slacks to skirts, no one has commented.
Ryder makes quick work of his zipper, moving my panties aside so he can line up exactly where he wants to be. Although the music in my ears blocks out all other sounds, I can feel the vibrations of his moans in tandem with mine, as he finally makes his entrance.
Neither of us take our time, his pace timed perfectly with the beat. We continue to move, chasing that pleasure out of love and celebration, for digging deep and freeing a part of him that has been caged for too long. His music rolls through my body as he takes his mouth to mine, pumping harder, and I can no longer withstand the sheer power of it.
I’m already cresting, tiptoeing on the edge of the cliff.
And then I fall.
Ryder follows my plunge, our breathing haggard as we both come down.
He turns, using the amp for support as he slides to the floor, keeping me in his lap. I nuzzle my favorite spot between his shoulder and his neck, the song finally coming to an end as we catch our breath.
Ryder pulls me closer, a silent promise. He’s held the world at arm’s length, keeping not only his heart a secret, but the unbelievable talent he has for music. A rare talent. And by some miracle, I’m the one he chose to share it with.
Resting my forehead against his, I whisper. “Even if we were beluga whales.”