Page 51 of Come Break My Heart Again

“No, it’s not. Tuck doesn’t care about that shit.”

“That would be weird, huh?” I ask.

“If your friend dated mine?”

“Yeah.”

He looks away again.

I trace his profile with my eyes, the outline of his face and then down to the broad stretch of his shoulders. “It’s a small town.”

“Tucker know about us?”

“Not really,” Ryder replies, which isn’t thenoI was expecting.

“What does that mean?”

“Means he noticed some things and made some assumptions.”

“Things …”

Ryder clears his throat. “I like looking at you too,” he says softly. “And I do it enough that Tuck noticed.”

“Oh.”

He used present tense, just like I did. Didn’t say he stared at me freshman year and imply he’s stopped paying attention since.

“You ready to go?” Ryder asks.

“You should stay here. I’ll drive myself home.”

“No.”

“I only had the one drink. Most of which you tossed in the yard. I’m fine, I promise.”

“Not happening.” The same steel as when he was bossing Cormac around reappears in Ryder’s voice.

Not wanting me to get into a car accident is a terrible litmus test for judging a guy’s feelings. But I like how the certainty in his tone sounds like caring.

Still, I can’t resist saying, “You said I should make my own choices.”

There’s a sound of amusement in the back of Ryder’s throat as he turns the car back on. “Not about this.”

“How are you going to get back here?”

“I’ll figure it out. Put your seat belt on.”

“You’re bossy.”

His cheek creases, revealing the dimple that rarely appears. “You like it.”

My stomach flips, a flash of heat dousing me like a downpour. He’s right. And this is bad. So,sobad.

“Why’d you text me earlier?” Ryder asks.

I’m honest. “I wanted to know if you’d respond. Since you’d stopped.”

“You can always text me, Elle. Or call. I saw your messages. I just … needed a clean break.”

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