Chapter 31 #2
Tears spill down my cheeks.
“But I was scared that if you knew who I was, I’d lose you before I even had you.
That you’d see me the way everyone else did.
Like I was damaged. Problematic. Not worth the trouble.
So I kept everything inside, and it was wrong.
I should’ve told you, especially after you opened up to me about Abigail.
You trusted me with your pain, and I didn’t trust you with mine.
“I’m sorry. And I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I’m asking anyway if there’s a way we can move past this?”
Ryder’s fists are tight, knuckles white. “I don’t think I can,” he says, spreading ice over my chest, but then he adds, “Not until I’ve gone to LA and beaten that bastard to a pulp.”
“He doesn’t matter.” I stand up. “Karma already caught up with them. All their new games have flopped, and the studio is going under. Sony or Microsoft will buy them for pennies on the dollar soon.” I walk to his side of the porch.
“But I don’t care about any of that. I only care about us. Can you forgive me?”
His jaw works as if he’s chewing words he can’t swallow or let out. The silence stretches thin enough to snap, and I’m terrified it will break the wrong way—that he’ll tell me to leave, that we’re done, that some things can’t be forgiven no matter how many ugly truths you spill at someone’s feet.
His hands uncurl from the armrests, stiff, like he’s forcing them to cooperate.
“Yeah,” he says finally. “I forgive you.”
Relief crashes through me so hard my knees buckle. I grip the porch railing to stay upright, eyes burning.
“But if I’m being completely honest.” Ryder leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped between them, and my heart plummets.
He stares at the porch floorboards as if they hold answers he can’t find anywhere else. “I don’t know if I can be with you.”
The words open a tight crack under my ribs. “Why?”
He looks up, and the vulnerability in those twilight eyes guts me.
“Because I’m not convinced a small life like the one I can offer you in Blue Crescent Harbor will ever be enough for you. I already had a partner leave me for that reason. And I won’t go through that pain again. Or risk it for Rhys.”
“Ryder—”
“You’re used to LA, Faye. To money, success, to building empires.
You ran a company worth billions. You’ve lived a life I can’t even imagine.
” He scrubs a hand over his face. “And now you’re teaching first grade, living in a cottage, pretending this is enough.
But what happens when it’s not anymore? When you get bored?
When you realize you’re wasting your talent? ”
“Ryder, I love my job.” I point vaguely toward the town behind me.
“Those kids brought me back to life after I’d sunk into the darkest black hole you can imagine.
Just because I’m not making a bucketload of money anymore, it doesn’t mean I’m not fulfilled.
I have enough money to choose a job purely because I love it, and I love teaching.
If you don’t want to be with me, okay, but what’s the real reason? Because me leaving isn’t it.”
“I’m terrified, okay?” The confession spills out of him as if he can no longer hold back.
“I already was before, but now I’m convinced you’re too good for me.
That you’ll wake up one day and see what Abigail saw—that I’m a simpleton farmer stuck in a small town with too many responsibilities and not enough to offer.
I’m terrified of loving you and losing you and ending up broken again.
And I can’t—” His voice breaks. “I can’t do that to myself. Or to Rhys.”
The pain in his voice shreds me.
I push off the railing and cross to him, wedging one leg between his knees, forcing him to look up at me. I cup his face with both hands, thumbs brushing over the scruff along his jaw.
“I’m not asking you to believe me on my word when I say teaching is my passion. That my students are my joy. That this life”—I gesture around us, encompassing the porch, the farm, the town beyond—“is more than enough for me.”
His eyes search mine, desperate and afraid.
“But I’m asking you to give me a second chance to prove it to you.” My voice steadies even as tears slip down my cheeks. “Every single day. Let’s go back to the plan of taking things slow. Of getting to know each other before we decide if we want to be together or involve Rhys.”
I lean down until our foreheads touch.
“I messed up, Ryder. I know I did. But I’m staying. And I want to spend every day for the next year—or however long it takes—showing you that I’m not going anywhere and that you’re the person I want to build a life with.”
His hands come up, wrapping around the backs of my thighs. Warm and sure and grounding. “Are you for real?”
“Yes. Though my pride is hanging by a thread right now, so a little reassurance would be great.”
He smiles then. That devastating, heart-stopping smile that transforms his entire face.
“You want the truth, trouble? Fine, you had me at the line dancing.”
A laugh bubbles out of me.
He pulls me closer, settling me more firmly between his legs. “Actually, you fucking had me the first time we spoke. And slow or not, right or wrong, I love you, Faye.”
The words hit me like lightning.
He loves me.
The tears come harder now, streaming down my face in hot tracks I don’t bother to wipe away.
“Hey.” He stands, pulling me into his arms, one hand cradling the back of my head. “Why are you crying?”
“Because I was so scared.” The confession gets muffled against his shoulder as he pulls me close. “I’ve been heartbroken all week, Ryder. You weren’t answering my texts, and I thought—I thought you were done with me.”
“I’m sorry.” He presses a kiss to my temple. “I was being stubborn and hotheaded, and I couldn’t see past my own hurt. I promise I’ll get better at handling my temper.”
“And I promise I’ll never hide anything from you again.” I pull back enough to look at him. “No more secrets. No more half-truths. And just so you know, I got into a spat with Liam Rockwood the other night and told him he’s gonna have your land over my dead body.”
“You must’ve terrorized him.” Ryder smiles, wiping my tears with his thumbs. “He went to the bank and told them to give us an extension.”
“They did? The cottages are fine?”
Ryder nods.
“I’m so happy.” I nuzzle my face against his palm, then look up smiling. “And I don’t care if it’s too soon, either, I love you t—”
His mouth comes down on mine.
The kiss is more desperate than hungry. Born of two people who thought they’d lost each other finding their way back.
His lips move over mine with a fierceness that steals my breath, tongue sweeping in to taste and claim.
I kiss him back just as frantically, fingers fisting in his T-shirt, trying to get closer even though there’s no space left between us.
We break apart, gasping.
“Can I come inside now?” I ask between ragged breaths. “Or are you still scared of being alone in a house with me?”
His eyes darken. Pupils blown wide with want.
“You should be the one scared to be inside a house alone with me.” His voice drops to that gravelly rasp that makes my toes curl. “I’ve got three books’ worth of material to test on you.”
Oh, now I wish I had annotated.
Ryder bends and scoops me up, with one arm under my knees, the other supporting my back. I yelp in surprise, arms flying around his neck.
He carries me to the door and kicks it open with his boot.
“Ryder,” I gasp.
“Hold on, trouble.”
The house interior blurs past—hardwood floors, warm lighting, framed photos on the walls. I catch a glimpse of a lived-in space, comfortable and masculine, before he’s carrying me down a hallway and shouldering through another door.
His bedroom.
He sets me down on my feet beside a large bed covered in a dark blue comforter. The room is simple, clean, tidy. A dresser against one wall, a nightstand with a lamp, a window overlooking the fields. It smells like him—cedar and summer.
He cups my face, whispering, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
He kisses me slowly. Thoroughly. He takes his time to learn what makes me sigh into him. His hands slide from my face to my shoulders, down my arms, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
I tug at his T-shirt. He helps, shrugging out of the shirt and tossing it aside.
And oh.
Ryder shirtless is a revelation.
Lean muscles carved from years of physical labor. Broad shoulders that taper to a narrow waist. A light dusting of hair across his chest. My hands map the terrain—the hard planes of his pecs, the ridges of his abs, the sharp cut of his hip bones where they disappear into his jeans.
“Your turn,” he murmurs.
His fingers find the hem of my T-shirt. He lifts it slowly, giving me time to stop him. But I raise my arms instead, and he pulls it over my head. He stares at the simple black bra underneath, fascinated.
“Faye.” My name is a prayer on his lips.
He traces the edge of the cup with one finger, feather-light, and I shiver. His hands move to my jeans next, unbuttoning and unzipping with maddening slowness. He pushes the denim down my hips, and I step out of them, kicking off my shoes.
Now I’m standing in front of him in just my underwear, and the way he’s looking at me—like I’m precious and cherished and his—makes me shiver even in the hot summer air.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he says, voice wrecked.
“So are you.”
I reach for his belt, but he catches my hands.
“Not yet.” He guides me backward until my legs hit the bed. “Sit.”
Yeah, better, my knees don’t feel reliable right now.
My heart stutters as he drops to his knees in front of me.
But what happens next isn’t just about worshipping my body. He’s pledging himself to me, flesh and soul.
When he brings me against him, the world narrows to heat and trust and love. There’s no distance left. No doubts. Only the two of us finding the courage to love each other without any armor.
All night, he kisses me like he’s making a vow. Touches me like he’s tracing a constellation only he can see, connecting points that glow only for him. And every time his eyes meet mine, I feel the truth he told me on the porch echo through me—only louder now, sharper, undeniable: he loves me.
He loves me with every part of himself. And I love him back with my entire soul.
Later, when moonlight spills through his bedroom window, I watch him sleep—this beautiful, complicated man who chose to trust me again.
Yesterday, I thought I’d lost everything.
Today, I’m where I belong. I spent years building an empire to prove I mattered in a world that said I didn’t.
Chasing success as if it could fill the hollow places inside me.
But lying in the dark with someone who carries the weight of everyone he loves and never asks them to carry him back, I understand that what I was trying to earn can’t be bought: a town that sees me, not my accomplishments.
A family that made room for me at their table without question.
The students who needed me as much as I needed them.
This community where love is measured in showing up for each other and not racing to come out on top. This is the only empire worth building.