Chapter 25 Ryker #2
I shake my head. I want him to hear the words from her. Maybe then he’ll be able to communicate just how wrong this would be.
“What’s going on, Amber? What do you mean?”
“I want to take Maisie. Remember Stella?”
Jude stiffens. “Wait, wait. Take her where?”
“That’s what I was telling you. Stella from college, my old roommate in freshman year,” Amber says quickly. “She lives in Maple Glen with her cats and two dogs. It’s quiet. She has a guest house. I could get a job. Start over.”
“This isn’t how that works,” Jude says, trying to keep his voice level. “You can’t just decide this alone.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“I know that. You think I don’t know that? But there’s no fucking way I’m letting you take her to another town to live with a woman I barely remember,” he snaps, then softens immediately when Amber flinches. “You are not okay right now.”
The room vibrates with tension.
“Is Maisie awake?” I ask quietly.
Jude shakes his head. “Not yet.”
“Good,” I say. “I’ll keep it that way.”
I grab my jacket. “You two need to talk. I’ll stay with her.”
Jude nods, gratitude flashing through his worry. “Thank you.”
I head to the hall, my thoughts racing. This is all so fucked up. That little girl’s sleeping peacefully while her world threatens to crack apart.
I peek in on Maisie, tucked under her blankets, breathing slow and even. Innocent. Unaware. Collateral.
I close the door softly and lean against the wall, staring at nothing.
The sound hits first.
A truck door slams outside, cutting straight through the tension humming in the house.
I’m already keyed up, already braced for the next thing to go wrong, so my body reacts before my brain does. I straighten from where I’m standing near the hallway, my attention snapping toward the front window.
I move closer and part the curtain just enough to see.
Norah.
She’s bundled for the cold, hair pulled back loosely, curls escaping at the nape of her neck. The morning light catches her face, and my chest tightens so hard it almost hurts.
She looks beautiful.
Not dressed up. Not trying. Just her, showing up with that quiet gravity she carries without realizing it.
My heart does a stupid, involuntary thing and stumbles in my chest.
For a moment, I forget everything else. All I can think is that I want to open the door and tell her she looks good and ask why she’s here, and maybe steal a smile before the day turns ugly again.
I reach for the door.
That’s when the shouting starts.
It comes from my living room, and it stops me mid-step. Amber’s voice is sharp and frayed, pitched high with panic and fury, and Jude’s is strained underneath it, trying and failing to keep control of the situation.
Norah looks up, startled, eyes flicking toward the house.
I open the door anyway.
“Hey,” I start, stepping onto the porch. “You okay?”
She turns fully then, relief flashing across her face before confusion takes over. “I heard yelling. What’s going on?”
My mouth opens, then closes again. There’s no clean way to explain this. No gentle way to ease her into it.
“Let’s talk inside,” I say. “At Jude’s.”
Her brows knit together. “Ryker, you’re scaring me.”
I gesture her toward the door, lowering my voice. “Amber’s here. Something bad happened.”
That stops her cold.
“Amber?” she repeats. “Why is Jude’s sister here?”
“She lost the baby,” I say quietly. “And she isn’t doing okay.”
Norah’s hand flies to her mouth. “Oh shit.”
“She’s talking about taking Maisie and leaving town,” I add, because she deserves to know the truth even if it makes everything heavier.
Norah exhales slowly, shock written all over her face. “Fuck! Fuck!”
“I know.” I take her hand. “Everything’s so fucked right now.”
“Maybe I should go. I don’t want to impose on such a private thing.”
“No.” I squeeze her hand. “Stay. I want you here. Although I have to admit, I’m a little curious. Why are you here? It’s so early in the morning. I didn’t think you would be up this early.”
“I was on my way to meet Miss Thea,” she says automatically, like her brain is still trying to catch up. “I needed to pick something up. I wanted to stop by and talk to you about Dorian, but that feels… irrelevant now.”
The sound of Dorian’s name makes something twist unpleasantly in my stomach. It’s not jealousy exactly. It’s tension. Old history rubbing against new feelings, with nowhere to go.
“Yeah,” I say. “Did something happen? I mean, I can kind of smell him on you, so is that what you want to talk about?”
“Maybe we should do this some other time.”
Before I can say anything else, the door behind me creaks open.
Small footsteps pad across the room.
I turn just in time to see Maisie step outside, wearing her glasses, hair sleep-rumpled, clutching her stuffed rabbit to her chest. Frida’s ears droop over her arm, one button eye loose again from years of love.
Rufus, who was sleeping next to her bed, follows her out.
Maisie blinks at the light, then looks up.
“Good morning, sweet girl.” Norah smiles at her.
The kid’s face lights up instantly. “Norah!”
She drops Frida without hesitation and runs forward, arms flinging wide. Norah scoops her up like it’s muscle memory, lifting her easily, spinning once as Maisie laughs into her shoulder.
Rufus grabs Frida and trots back into the bedroom.
“Look at you,” Norah says, voice thick with emotion. “You have the most adorable glasses in the whole wide world.”
“I can see everything now,” Maisie announces proudly. “Even leaves.”
Norah smiles, pressing a kiss into her hair. “That is amazing.”
The moment is soft and bright and fragile.
Then the door slams open behind us.
We all turn.
Amber storms inside, eyes wild, face blotchy, hair a mess of fury and grief. Jude follows her, clearly trying to get ahead of whatever is about to explode.
She takes one look at Norah holding Maisie and loses it.
“Who the fuck are you?” she screams.
Norah stiffens, tightening her hold on Maisie. “I’m Norah,” she says calmly. “I’m a friend.”
“A friend?” Amber laughs, sharp and unhinged. “You have my fucking daughter in your arms.”
Maisie twists to look at her mother, confused. “Mommy?”
Amber’s expression changes instantly. The rage cracks, replaced by something syrupy and bright that doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Hey, baby,” Amber croons, rushing forward. “Come to Mommy.”
Maisie wriggles down from Norah’s arms and runs straight into Amber, wrapping herself tight around her legs. Amber bends and clutches her like she might disappear if she lets go.
“We are going on an adventure,” Amber says loudly, voice pitched high. “Would you like that? We can go look for Santa together.”
Jude steps forward, fury flashing across his face. “The fuck you will.”
Amber whirls on him. “Do not talk to me like that.”
“You don’t get to promise her things you can’t deliver,” Jude snaps. “Not like this.”
Maisie looks back and forth between them, eyes wide, hands tightening on her mother’s coat.
Norah moves instinctively, crouching down to Maisie’s level. “Hey,” she says gently. “Let’s go sit inside for a minute. Okay?”
Maisie hesitates.
Amber glares at her. “Don’t tell my daughter what to do.”
Norah straightens slowly. “I’m not taking anything from you. I’m trying to help.”
“Help?” Amber scoffs. “So much for complaining about Stella being around my kid when you let some stranger hold her.”
Jude explodes. “That’s not fair, and you know it.”
“I don’t know anything anymore,” Amber screams. “Everything is gone. Everything I had planned is gone.”
Maisie starts to cry, the sound small and frightened.
That does it.
I step in, voice firm. “Amber, this is not okay. You’re scaring her.”
Amber rounds on me. “You don’t get to tell me how to grieve.”
“No,” I say. “But I get to protect a kid.”
The house feels too small, the air too tight. Grief and anger slam into each other without anywhere to go, and Maisie is standing right in the middle of it.
Norah reaches out, steady and calm, taking Maisie’s hand. “Why don’t we go inside and get some cocoa, okay?”
Maisie nods immediately, clinging to her.
Amber watches them head to the kitchen, then turns back to Jude.
“You’re choosing her over me,” she accuses.
Jude’s voice is low and dangerous. “I’m choosing your daughter’s safety.”
The fight is far from over.
And every single one of us knows it.