Chapter 6
Ryan
Ryan balanced the pie dish in one hand as he climbed Emma’s front steps, his other hand buried in his coat pocket against the February chill.
The dish was still warm from the oven, thanks to his mother’s insistence.
She had pressed it into his hands earlier that afternoon with a knowing smile and the comment, “At least bring something so you don’t look like a stray dog showing up for scraps. ”
The smell of cinnamon and apples seeped through the foil. Comforting. Familiar.
But Ryan still felt strangely out of place.
This house, with its tidy shutters and cheerful porch light, had been his sister’s home for years now.
A part of him felt like a visitor, a man passing through, not someone who belonged to the chaos inside.
Still, the sounds drifting from the kitchen—the laughter, clinking dishes, Emma’s voice calling for someone to set the salad on the table—pulled at something deep in his chest.
He braced himself, knocked once, and stepped in.
Warmth and noise hit him immediately. Coats hung crookedly on hooks by the door, the baby’s toys scattered across the living room rug, the scent of garlic bread wafting from the kitchen.
For a moment, Ryan let it wash over him, reminding himself he could do this.
He could face chatter, teasing, family noise.
It wasn’t gunfire, not desert heat. Just dinner.
He moved toward the kitchen, setting the pie on the counter, and that was when he saw her.
Taylor.
She stood by the table with Emma, smoothing a tablecloth and balancing Emma’s baby on one hip like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Her hair was pulled back in a loose knot, strands slipping around her face.
The soft light from the chandelier brushed over her skin, and Ryan’s chest tightened.
She looked at home here. Effortless. Like she belonged in this house, in this family.
Except she didn’t see it. He could tell by the way she hovered at the edge, helping but not claiming space, always ready to fade into the background.
She laughed at something Emma said, quick and bright, but Ryan caught the way her eyes darted toward the floor, as if making sure she wasn’t in the way.
Nostalgia tugged at him. She had always been around, woven into their childhood like an extra thread. The third musketeer to him and Emma. Except to him, she had never been just Emma’s friend. Not really.
“Ryan!” Emma spotted him and grinned. “Good, you brought the pie. Mom will be thrilled. She already made brownies, but you know she likes to feed us until we can’t move.”
Ryan leaned against the counter, slipping back into the role of big brother with practiced ease. “You’re lucky. If I had baked it, we’d all be at the emergency room.”
“Truth,” Emma said, smirking.
Their mom swept in just then, apron dusted with flour. “Stop pretending, Ryan. You can boil pasta and fry eggs. That’s practically gourmet in some places.”
Taylor laughed softly, adjusting the baby. The sound hit Ryan low in the chest, like an echo from another life.
Dinner gathered momentum quickly, voices overlapping, dishes passing from hand to hand. Ryan found himself seated across from Taylor at the long dining table, the clatter of silverware and the scent of roasted chicken filling the air.
“Ryan,” his mother said halfway through, her eyes sparkling. “Now that you’re back, maybe you can finally think about settling down. It would be nice to see you with someone at this table next year.”
Heat prickled the back of his neck. He opened his mouth to deflect, but before he could, Emma jumped in.
“And Taylor too,” Emma teased. “She’s been our honorary Carter forever, but she never brings a date either.”
The table chuckled. Taylor smiled, rolling her eyes as she speared a piece of broccoli. “What can I say? I prefer your family’s cooking to awkward small talk with strangers.”
Laughter rippled around the table, but Ryan saw the flicker in her eyes, the faint stiffening of her shoulders. She had laughed it off, but not comfortably.
Something protective stirred in him, sharp and unexpected. “Or maybe she just has better taste than the rest of us,” he said easily, setting his fork down. “Why waste time on bad dates when you can have chicken this good?”
That earned another round of laughter, and the spotlight shifted. But Taylor’s gaze flicked to him briefly, surprise softening her features before she looked down at her plate again.
Ryan took a sip of water to cover the tightness in his chest. He hadn’t planned on stepping in. But watching her shrink under the attention had twisted something in him, and deflecting the teasing felt like the only thing to do.
Conversation flowed easily as everyone reached for seconds. Ryan leaned back, letting the rhythm of family chatter wash over him. He was halfway through another piece of chicken when Emma’s voice cut through the noise.
“So,” Emma said, eyes twinkling. “Tell me, Taylor, how’s your secret admirer treating you these days?”
Ryan nearly choked on his water.
Taylor froze, fork suspended midair. “Emma.”
Emma grinned. “What? You told me about the notes. Don’t act like this isn’t the most interesting thing happening in town right now.”
The table went quiet for a beat, then their mother gasped. “Secret admirer? Taylor, you didn’t say anything about that when you helped me with the brownies earlier.”
Taylor sighed, setting her fork down. “Because it’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” Emma scoffed. “Someone is leaving her handwritten clues, people. Actual clues. Like a Hallmark movie, but without the snow.”
Laughter rippled down the table. Their father chuckled, shaking his head. “I like this already. Did he leave flowers too, or is he easing into it?”
Taylor groaned, covering her face with one hand. “I should never have told you anything.”
“Too late,” Emma sing-songed. “This is family dinner. We share everything.”
Ryan watched Taylor’s cheeks flush pink, her lips twitching between annoyance and reluctant amusement. Something about the way she tried to shrink into herself made his jaw tighten again. He hated how easily she brushed off attention, as though she wasn’t worth being fussed over.
“Do you have another note?” Emma pressed, leaning forward. “Come on, show us. You brought it, didn’t you?”
Taylor hesitated, then reached into her bag at her feet. She pulled out a folded piece of paper, cheeks pinker than ever. “Fine. But only because you won’t shut up until I do.”
Emma snatched it the second it touched the table and read aloud in a dramatic voice.
“To see the world as you dream it, you must first stand where the sky feels close. Follow the path you’ve walked since childhood to your favorite lookout point. The next clue waits where the horizon touches the trees.”
“Ooooh,” Emma said, waving the paper like a flag. “Romantic. Very romantic.”
Taylor rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her mouth. “I don’t know what I’ll find there, but this has definitely been fun.”
Ryan blurted out the words before he could think it through. “You’re not going up there alone.”
The table went still.
Taylor blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Ryan set his fork down, leaning forward. “If some guy is luring you to an isolated spot in the mountains, I’m going with you.”
Emma snorted. “Ryan, it’s not a crime scene. It’s a crush.”
“Or a creep,” Ryan shot back. “Do you know how easy it is for predators to hide behind cute notes? All he has to do is get her somewhere out of the way—”
Their mother swatted his arm with her napkin. “Ryan Carter, stop scaring her. Taylor is not being hunted by a serial killer.”
Their father chuckled. “He’s got a point though. The woods can be dangerous.”
“Not helping,” Taylor muttered.
Emma shook her head. “Ryan, you’re overreacting. This is sweet. Whoever this is clearly knows her well. Nobody’s dragging her into the woods with candy hearts. Besides, what if the guy is hiding somewhere to see her reaction, and he sees her show up with you? Not cool.”
Ryan crossed his arms, unamused. “You want her going up there by herself at night?”
“She’s not helpless,” Emma argued.
“I never said she was helpless,” Ryan shot back. His voice was calm but firm. “I said I’m not letting her walk into a secluded area alone because some guy thinks cryptic notes are charming. Either I go with her, or she doesn’t go.”
The whole table erupted at once.
“You’re ridiculous,” Emma said, laughing.
“Bossy as ever,” their mother added, rolling her eyes.
Taylor threw up her hands. “I’ve been walking around this town alone for years. I think I can handle a hiking trail.”
“Not at night you can’t,” Ryan said.
“Then I won’t go at night.”
“Serial killers strike during the day too.” He set his chin stubbornly.
“Listen to yourself,” Emma said between laughs. “This isn’t a mission. It’s a mountain with a bench.”
Ryan didn’t flinch. “And benches are where creeps wait.”
Taylor stared at him, half exasperated, half amused. “You really think my admirer is some kind of criminal mastermind?”
Ryan arched a brow. “Do you know who he is?”
“No,” she admitted.
“Then yes. Until we know otherwise, he’s a potential creep.”
The family howled with laughter again.
“Once a big brother, always a big brother,” Emma’s dad said.
Ryan held Taylor’s gaze, steady.
Taylor sighed, throwing her napkin on her plate. “Fine. But only because you’re unbearable.”
“Good,” Ryan said, sitting back with satisfaction. “We’ll go tomorrow during your lunch break.”
Emma leaned toward Taylor and whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear, “If the guy ends up being there and tries to kiss you, just have Ryan take pictures for posterity’s sake.”
“If some unknown creep tries to lay a big wet one on our Taylor, his fist will meet my face.” Ryan said it with deadly calm.
Taylor buried her face in her hands while the family roared with laughter, and Ryan bit back his own smile. Protective or not, he couldn’t deny one thing.
He was looking forward to tomorrow.