Page 54 of Ruthless Regret

“It wasn’t sudden. I just didn’t admit it to myself. I care about you, Ido. But not in the way you deserve.”

His eyes meet mine, and the pain in them makes me feel like the worst person in the world. But I can’t let it sway me. I can’t let guilt send me back to him.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” I whisper. “You deserve someone who’s all in. Someone who can love you the way you love them.”

“I loveyou, Ash.”

Before I can reply, the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it.” I stand up and move toward the door before Scott can say anything, relieved for the interruption.

When I open it, I’m not prepared for who’s standing on the other side.

Peter Longeaton, Zain’s lawyer.

“Mrs. Ryder.” His voice is firm. “We need to talk.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

ZAIN

Restlessness and insomniadrives me out of bed at some ungodly hour. The need to move, to do something,anything. It’s not quite a week since I walked out of prison, but my body still remembers the daily routine.

Get up early, work out in the prison yard, then shower.

When I first bought the house so I could move out and give Jason and Louisa their space, my intention was to turn one of the rooms into a home gym. Obviously, that went to shit, so I add it to my mental list of things to do.

The list that’s become less about revenge, and more about survival.

For now, I make do with what I’ve got. Push-ups, sit-ups, squats—the basic exercises that kept me sane when I was in solitary confinement. Something that happened more than once during my first year in maximum security. It’s enough to keep my mind focused, and burns off some of the tension that’s been growing since Ashley walked out.

I move through the routine automatically. Push-ups first, counting out the repetitions in my head. Then squats, feeling the familiar pull in my legs. Those are followed by sit-ups until my core burns.

It’s not about fitness, that’s just a happy side effect. It’s about control. It’s about keeping that restlessness, the rage, and all the other shit that’s been building up, locked down tight.

Sweat runs down my back, but my pulse is steady, and the rhythm of the exercises helps drown out the noise inside my head.

By the time I’ve gone through several sets, my body is aching, but the tension has eased. It’s enough to make me feel like I’m in control again. For now, anyway. Afterward, I head for a shower, and let the hot water scald my skin, the heat relaxing the last bit of tightness in my muscles.

The problem is that now I’ve stopped working out, and I’m standing under the water with nothing else to occupy my mind, the thoughts come back, circling around in my head like vultures over a fresh kill.

Ramsey. Holson. The man my mom mentioned. The unidentified print.

I need to figure out what the fuck happened back then.

Drying off, I check the time. Peter should be here soon so we can go to New York. I get dressed, and move into the kitchen. It’s weird how quiet the house is. It doesn’t sit right with me. I’m too used to the noise of prison life. At least there, I knew what to expect.

I make a coffee, and lean against the counter, and run through my new plan.

Go to New York.

Convince Ashley to come back to Whitstone.

Figure out who attacked her.

Hope it leads to a way to get answers for what happened.

I’m confident that Ashley holds an important piece of the puzzle, whether she believes it or not. Ineedher to come back.

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