Chapter 3
Ryder
“You know you’re only staying here for a couple of weeks, right?” My cousin Gwen’s voice sounds behind me as I roll my two gigantic suitcases into her apartment.
“Excuse me for having some important personal belongings,” I reply. “I don’t travel light.”
Gwen snorts. “Right. Because you have so many combinations of black shirts and pants.”
“Don’t forget the leather jacket.”
She palms her forehead. “How could I forget?” She pokes my waist, the one ticklish spot I have, and laughs when I twist away from her.
Her curly blonde hair bounces around her shoulders, and her bright blue eyes are full of mirth.
Her light features are a stark contrast to my dark hair and gray eyes, but we still have some similarities as cousins—the perfect nose, high cheekbones…
you get the picture. “You might be a cool stunt guy these days, but don’t forget who can take you down with just one finger. ”
“I could never.” And she’s right. Even though I know how to fall out of a burning building, she’s been beating me up since we were kids.
After all, she’s three years older than me and takes on the “big sister” role.
When we became teenagers and I was finally strong enough to pin her down, she still knocked me down with my ticklish spot.
It’s something I’d never admit to my costars.
I look around her apartment, bright and cheerful with maps of faraway places decorating the walls. “I can’t believe you finally moved out on your own.”
“Yeah, well, living with my parents at the age of twenty-seven was a little ridiculous.”
“I don’t blame you. I remember what it was like living with them.” I smirk. “And it was getting hard to hide your side job, huh?”
Gwen fixes me with a glare but doesn’t deny it. “Maybe you’d know if you ever came to visit.”
“Excuse me for being busy with my job.”
“Sure you are. You’ve been off for a year, and instead of coming home, you stay with Peter Stone.” She shakes her head at me, but then her eyes soften. “Is it weird being back?”
I tip my head from side to side. “A little. It’s technically the only home I’ve really known, but it’s so small. I haven’t missed everyone being in my business.”
Gwen snorts a laugh. “I guess. But it’s nice to have people who care.”
I shrug a shoulder. I don’t say this to her, but I don’t really need people who care. My parents taught me at a young age that people might say they care, but they’ll choose themselves in the end.
My parents divorced when I was three and began an eternal battle of who could make the more selfish decisions.
Dad immediately remarried a woman with three children, ages ten and up, and whenever I was with him, it was like I didn’t exist. Mom wasn’t any better, though.
She’d take me for weekends in Vegas, leaving me alone in the hotel room while she gambled away what little savings she managed to gain.
When I was eight years old, Gwen’s family took me in.
It’s a long sob story of being found home alone at Mom’s apartment, taken in as a ward of the state, then a short stint in foster care before my aunt and uncle offered to care for me.
I don’t need to go into the details. Regardless, I’m eternally grateful to the Darlings for taking me in and giving me a functional home.
Gwen was eleven when I moved in with her, an only child who always wanted a little sibling that her parents were unable to provide, and she immediately took me under her wing.
The woman is a natural caretaker, which explains her current job as a nanny to two little boys, John and Michael.
Her parents would love to train her in their business, which is basically the business of being rich.
But Gwen has her own secret desires—ones she’s included me in on.
“What about Peter?” she asks, her words timid. “Why didn’t you want to stay in the Maldives with him? I’m sure your time there was fun.”
Peter Stone, my best friend, has been traveling the world for the last five years, working on his travel app called Tinkerbell. After my last movie, I headed out to the Maldives to hang out with him, and I was there for almost a year.
Peter and I met when I moved to Brookhaven with Gwen and her family.
His aunt Agatha lives here, and she’s the token crazy lady.
Peter and his siblings would visit her every summer, and even though Peter is a couple years older than me, closer to Gwen’s age, he and I would get into all sorts of trouble together.
We’d terrorize the farmer’s market on our skateboards, then pull Gwen’s hair and tease Peter’s baby sister, Lily. Typical boy stuff.
I tilt my head at her. “Don’t beat around the bush, Wendi.”
“Ugh, don’t use that nickname.”
“But Peter called you that,” I tease. Her full name is Gwendolyn, and while everyone has always called her Gwen, Peter thought Wendi was a more fun nickname.
She narrows her eyes at me, and I know better than to keep going. Despite all the teasing, Gwen has always had a mad crush on Peter.
“I’m not interested in living the frat-boy ‘bro’ life with Peter and his buddies,” I say. “It got old after a while.”
“He sure makes it look pretty appealing online,” Gwen says, and I hear the twinge of jealousy in her voice.
“I don’t know,” I reply. “He’s got zero sense of responsibility.
They play all day and work on their app for a couple hours at the pool.
I need something more.” And it’s true. Peter’s a great guy, but I could sense how much I needed grounding, at least before returning to Hollywood and being around the people who smile in your face and stab your back as soon as you turn away.
She nods, that answer apparently satisfying her for now. I don’t want to tell her about the actresses dressed like mermaids who were hanging all over him when I visited him on my way here. No need to incite a jealous act of violence.
And there’s the other piece of the puzzle, where I ran out of all my money and didn’t want Peter to keep paying for me. Hence the reason why I’m staying here until I have to work again in a few weeks.
I glance around the apartment. “Where’s my room?”
“This way.” She steps in front of me and leads me down the hall to her guest bedroom. It’s small, but it’ll do for now. “Sorry you don’t have your own bathroom.”
“It’s not a problem. I’m grateful you had an extra room for me.” I heft one suitcase onto the bed and unzip it, pulling out a book and handing it to her. “This is for you. As a thank you.”
She furrows her brow and takes the book from me, then her mouth drops open. “A Little Princess? Is this…” She flips open the cover gingerly, taking care not to ruin the delicate book. “Is this a first edition?” Then she gasps at the signature on the title page. “And signed?”
The corner of my mouth lifts in a half-grin. “Maybe.”
“How did you… Where did you…” Her eyes snap up to meet mine. “Wait. Please tell me you didn’t steal this.”
I turn back to my suitcase, busying myself with rearranging my clothes. “I mean…define stealing.”
“Ryder!”
I turn around and put my hands up. “I’m kidding! Of course I didn’t steal it. I’m just borrowing it. Indefinitely.”
“Ryder…” Her voice is low, a warning sound.
“Fine, fine. I bought it.”
Gwen sighs. “Please tell me you didn’t use the last of your money on this.”
“It’s fine.”
“But you’re broke.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
She tries to hand me the book, but I step away. “I can’t return it. It’s fine. I have a job in a few weeks and everything will be back to normal. Please, enjoy it.”
Reluctantly, she pulls the book to her chest and nods.
I don’t tell her the truth—it was actually Peter’s gift. But mentioning Peter’s name is like fanning the flames of a fire that should be extinguished. Not that Peter has any sense to be kind to her heart.
Gwen flops on the bed, browsing the pages of her new treasure, and I sit next to her.
She’s almost my height, both of us inheriting our tall genes from the same side of the family.
Our moms are sisters, but they couldn’t be more different.
Where her mother was caring and nurturing, mine couldn’t quite figure out how to put her son’s needs in line with her own.
I haven’t spoken to my mom since I was eighteen, and there’s no plan to change that.
An alarm on Gwen’s phone starts buzzing, and she groans. “Time for work. I’ll have to look through this later.” She shuts the book and gives me a side hug. “Thank you. This is really special.”
“You’re welcome. I guess I’ll just start unpacking while you’re gone. What are you doing with the boys today?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Probably just hanging around the town center with the other kids.”
“Do they still get in their bathing suits and splash in the fountain?”
“Yep, even in February.” She chuckles. “Remember when we brought water guns with Peter? And played cops and robbers?”
“You mean Peter and I played cops and robbers, and you were the damsel in distress.”
“Same thing.” She sighs wistfully.
I survey the boxes around us. “Well, if I finish unpacking maybe I’ll head over to the fountain and play with you guys.”
“Oh, the boys would love that! Sounds good.” She gives me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. She’s the closest thing to a sister I’ve ever had. “I’ll see you later.”
She heads out, and I start placing my clothes in the dresser. Despite Gwen’s complaints about my heavy suitcases, it only takes me half an hour to get unpacked. After I’m done, I head out onto the street and walk to the fountain.
It’s February in Southern California, so it’s still a pretty beautiful day.
Crisp and cool, slightly overcast, just the right weather for my leather jacket and jeans.
I glance at the homes as I walk past, noting how little the town has changed since I’ve been gone.
Once I get to the town center, there aren’t any cars allowed, and kids roam free.