Chapter 65 The Door Did Nothing Wrong
The Door Did Nothing Wrong
Tessa
A normal person would've screamed. But my own scream caught in my throat the moment I heard Ryder yell.
Not at me.
At Evan Carver.
Who wasn't even here.
What the hell?
My heart hammered as I tried to make sense of it. Was this…a rescue?
I stood there, barefoot and furious, holding a candle in one hand and the small radio in the other, watching Ryder's face in the flickering light. The radio had fallen silent, leaving only the sounds of my ragged breathing and the falling rain.
His jacket was soaked. His hair was drenched. Water slid down his cheekbones, making him look wild, intent, and unfairly magnetic.
I gave myself a mental kick, hating the part of my brain that noticed how stupidly good he looked, standing there in Maisie's shattered doorway.
I swallowed as my brain caught up with my heart. Damn it.
The door. Its shocking destruction was the thing that finally made me speak. "What'd you do that for?"
He strode forward until we were close enough to touch. "Is he here?"
"Who? Evan?" I shook my head. "No. Of course not."
Ryder moved a fraction closer. "Was he here?"
"No. Why?"
Through clenched teeth, he said, "You know why."
And then, it hit me. "Oh, my God. Is this a jealousy thing?"
He stared like I'd completely lost my mind. Sounding incredulous, he said, "That's what you think? That I kicked in a door because I was jealous?"
With him standing so close, my pulse tripped for all the wrong reasons. "Hey! I wasn't the one who kicked in your door, so maybe you should go first."
He stiffened. "Go first?"
I gave a jerk of my chin. "Yes, actually."
His voice rose. "Are you fucking serious?"
My voice rose, too. "You don't need to swear!"
"The hell I don't." But then, his voice softened. "I thought you were in trouble."
A soft breath escaped my lips. "What?" Of course, part of me had guessed this already, but my brain was still too jumbled to think.
In my hand, the radio crackled back to life, and the weatherman's calm voice cut through the silence, saying something about record rainfall and wind damage at a school. Ryder reached for the radio and switched it off without looking away.
In a raw voice, he said, "I thought he took you."
He. Evan Carver. I didn't say his name, but it was a timely reminder of why both of us were standing here – and not in Ryder's hotel suite.
At the anguish in his voice, part of me felt almost guilty. With an effort, I shook it off. This wasn't my fault. I'd left the suite for a perfectly good reason.
If it weren't for the storm, I might've left the island entirely. Heck, I'd even tried to – bolting for the ferry dock, only to find that the ferries were no longer running – not this late and certainly not after the storm.
So I'd returned here. But to do what?
Hide?
Wait?
Plan my next move?
I had no idea, but door-busting hadn't been part of the plan.
Enough was enough. I told Ryder, "I know why you're here."
His tone grew sarcastic. "Right. Jealousy."
"I don't mean tonight," I clarified. "I mean here on the island – not today, but when you first showed up."
Confusion flickered across his face. "You mean…because of the bet?"
It was my turn to be confused. The bet? I had no idea what he meant, but I wasn't about to be sidetracked. "I mean, I know who sent you."
"Sent me where?"
"Here. To Mackinac Island."
"Yeah. Me, too." With the radio still in his hand, he spread his arms wide. "I sent myself. There. You happy?"
"Not hardly," I said, tired of the games. "I found the card."
"What card?"
Oh, please. Was he seriously going to play dumb? My mouth tightened. "The business card."
To his credit, he made a pretty good show of looking confused. "Whose business card?" But then, his expression cleared, and he froze for a long, awful moment before murmuring under his breath, "Oh, shit."