Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
Dad returns to the house a few hours later, barely staying long enough to change into his uniform and grab his work bag. He doesn’t look me in the eye, and for once I don’t bother trying to talk to him. Not even when he hovers in the doorway on the way out to his cruiser.
“I’m sorry I lost my temper earlier.” He sighs, long and heavy. “But everything I’ve ever done is to protect you—to make up for the way I failed you when you were little. How can I keep you safe if you’re not in Deadwood?”
“You didn’t fail me,” I say, turning back toward the TV and ignoring the rest of his statement. I don’t have the energy to fight with him, and it’s not like he’d hear me anyway. I’m not mad anymore. Not even hurt—just resigned to my decision to leave. The way Dad spoke to me today made it more than clear that he will never see me as anything other than a broken child.
The floorboards creak as he shifts from one foot to another. “Maybe I should’ve handled this differently…”
He’s not really asking, but I nod anyway. “Yeah, maybe you should’ve.”
I hear the tap, tap, tap of his finger drumming across the doorframe, followed by another long exhale and the soft click of the door closing behind him.
The second he’s clear of the driveway, I rise to my feet and walk to my bedroom. It takes me an hour to pack up all my clothes. Another to collect everything else and shove it into the duffle bag I stole from Noah’s room. I’d had to dump a bundle of what looked like journals onto the floor, but I didn’t bother picking them up or putting them away because, again, I just don’t care.
Why would I when I’ll be gone in less than forty-eight hours?
Once packed, I glance around my sparse room, struggling to remember how I was considering staying a few days ago.
After showering, I change into pajamas, grab the last jar of Nutella from the pantry, and settle back down on the couch to watch Vampire Bill deep in the throes of his corruption arc before promptly falling asleep.
The house is dark when a set of strong arms gently lifts me from the cushions. Rain-soaked pine and an unfamiliar leathery scent surround me as I bury my face against Ryker’s warm shirt.
“What time is it?” I ask through a yawn while he maneuvers us through my bedroom door.
“Late,” he whispers, laying me on the bed and removing the single sock that’s already hanging halfway off my foot. “Or early, depending on how you look at it.”
I watch his dark silhouette kick off his boots and shrug out of his shirt and pants before crawling into bed beside me. Face-to-face, he tugs me against his torso and kisses my forehead. My body softens as I breathe him in, his scent a calming balm for my soul.
He shudders when I place my palm on his chest, butrelaxes a millisecond later, grabbing my hand and resting it on his cheek. We stay like that for a moment, his eyes closed as he leans into my touch, and then he kisses my palm and settles against the pillows.
Tilting my chin up, I kiss his jaw, trailing my lips down the column of his throat until he wraps a second arm around me and shivers. Just like that, the reason I considered staying crashes back into me with the ferocity of a hurricane.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he says into my hair, fumbling in the darkness until his mouth captures mine. The kiss is slow and unhurried, but that persistent ache at the apex of my thighs awakens just the same, amplifying when Ryker rolls me onto my back and settles between my legs.
“You taste like chocolate and hazelnut,” he whispers, nuzzling his nose against mine before kissing a trail half-way down my chest and laying his head atop the spot between my belly and sternum. He sighs contentedly when I drag my fingers through his hair, and the trust and comfort wrapped into that single sound pierces my heart.
“God, that feels good,” he says after another minute. “Is anyone else home? There weren’t any cars in the driveway, but I parked at the ranch just in case.”
The wings inside my stomach flutter. “It’s only you and me.”
“Good.” He continues to make little noises of appreciation as I massage his scalp.
Content in his arms, I spend each pass of my fingers trying to get used to the shorter length of his hair, conjuring up an image of what feels like a high-fade. At least the academy let him keep a few inches up top, although I suppose Ryker would look good with any hair style.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says after another minute. “One of the guest lecturers wanted to meet with me after class.” He hesitates, his jaw ticking against my stomach. “I think I found a way to make it all work… A way for me to keep Charlie safe and get us the hell out of Deadwood within a year.”
My heart stutters.
I’m aware that the us he’s referring to is him and his sister, but for one brief second, it felt like it included me too. A hollow feeling opens in my center, but knowing Charlie might not have to live with Beau is enough to keep the emptiness at bay.
“That’s great news. ”
“It is.” His tone is heavy, burdened with a thousand unsaid thoughts.
The room goes silent beneath the weight of whatever it is Ryker’s not saying. “This is what you’ve been working toward all summer,” I prompt, unsure why I suddenly feel like I missed something. “Why don’t you sound more excited?”
“Because in order to keep my sister out of Beau’s clutches, I’ll have to—” He sighs and shakes his head, the rough stubble on his jaw grating against the bare skin of my stomach when my tank top rides up. “ Fuck , I can’t even bring myself to say it.”
He slides his hand under my shirt, clinging to my waist in a way that feels possessive and needy, like he’s searching for reassurance.
Confusion ripples across my brow. “You don’t need to tell me if you’re not ready to. But, Ryker,” I say, imbuing as much strength into my voice as possible, “whatever it is, if it keeps Charlie away from Beau, it’s worth the cost. You have to do it.”
“You’re right.” His voice is calmer, his head lighter as he tilts his chin to look at me in the dark. He plants a small kiss against my sternum, trailing his lips upward while sliding his hand to my breast and grazing his thumb across my nipple. “How was your week, Princess?”
“It was fine. I—” A gasp escapes my lips when he replaces his thumb with his tongue, drawing my peaked flesh into his warm mouth. I arch into him, trying to stay focused but quickly losing my train of thought as his other hand trails to my hip.
“What was I saying?” I pant.
“You were about to lie and tell me you had a good week,” he growls, tugging my shirt up over my head and rising onto his knees to secure my wrists to the headboard with it. It’s not a tight knot, and I could probably break it easily, but I don’t want to.
Breasts heaving, my nipples pebble under the silver moonlight seeping in through the window. Adrenaline floods my veins, washing away every memory of hurt and annoyance from the last few days until the only thing I feel is excitement and Ryker.
Always Ryker .
“I wasn’t going to lie?—”
“You were,” he breathes, capturing my needy moan with his mouth as his fingers dip below the hem of my shorts and sink into the wet heat between my thighs, thrusting in and out of me at a tortuously perfect pace. “Do you want to come, Princess?”
“God yes .” My belly coils as he moves faster, palm grinding into my clit with each stroke of his thick fingers.
“Then don’t fucking lie to me when I ask you how you’re doing.”
“I won’t,” I whimper, the T-shirt restraint digging into my wrists as I arch my back.
“Good girl. And is this pussy still mine?” Ryker growls, lips hovering millimeters away from my own, fingers curling and pumping.
My mouth falls open in a silent moan.
“Answer me, Willa,” he says, tone gravel and smoke as he moves faster. “Who does this pussy belong to?”
“You,” I gasp out through the ecstasy building in my center. “It’s yours. I’m yours.”
Ryker stills above me, his head tilting to the side as footsteps pound down the hallway.
The door bursts open, neither of us having time to react as shards of wood explode into the bedroom and my brother barrels in through the door.