Page 79 of The Scout

I shifted closer, pressing my bare chest against his, absorbing his warmth. “Even though my dad didn’t die under mysterious circumstances and leave me billions, I miss him so much sometimes it physically hurts.” I swallowed, my voice turning quieter. “And my mom … she died when I was too young to remember her much at all.”

Ryker’s fingers slid up my spine, his touch grounding, anchoring. “Tell me about them.”

I sighed, staring at the space between us, watching the way my fingertips traced the hard lines of his abs. “Dad used to take Will and me ice skating at the Holiday Festival of Lights on James Island every year.” I smiledsoftly, the memory washing over me. “It didn’t matter that we lived in the Lowcountry, that it never snowed. The festival had lights everywhere—millions of them. A skating rink, hot cocoa, Christmas music. It was like stepping into another world.”

Ryker was quiet, listening.

“He had a magic like that,” I continued, my voice thick with nostalgia. “He could always find a way to show us a world that was better than reality. More fun, more interesting.” I let out a small, sad laugh. “Maybe that’s why Will does what he does. Why he risks his life, puts himself in danger. Maybe he’s trying to make the real world more like the ones our dad always found in experiences and novels.”

Ryker’s hand curled around my waist, his grip firm. “Your dad read to you, too?”

I nodded. “Every night.” I tilted my head, meeting his gaze. “It’s kind of neat that both of our dads did that. Like they wanted us to believe in something bigger.”

He didn’t say anything, but his fingers flexed slightly against my waist, like he was holding onto something.

I hesitated, feeling a lump rise in my throat. “I never thought about it before,” I admitted. “But Will always provided that magic, too. He watched over me. He made me feel safe in the world.” I swallowed hard, my voice trembling. “How am I supposed to go on if he doesn’t make it out of this alive?”

The silence between us was thick, heavy. Then?—

“He’s going to make it.” His voice was a growl, edged with something raw. “And if he doesn’t?” His jaw clenched. “Then I’ll burn the fucking world for you.”

My breath hitched, my pulse pounding.

I nodded, my throat tightening, my fingers tracing slow circles against Ryker’s chest. He didn’t say much—never had. But the things he did say? They always carried weight. Always meant something.

I’d known guys who talked just to fill the silence, who made promises they never planned to keep, who said all the right things because they thought that’s what I wanted to hear. Ryker wasn’t like that. He didn’t give me empty reassurances, didn’t waste words trying to soothe me with false hope. He told me the truth—brutal, unvarnished, but real.

I sighed, resting my chin against his chest, looking up at him through my lashes. “You know, I probably say five times as many words in a day as you do. Maybe more.”

His lips quirked, his fingers lazily running down my spine. “Sounds exhausting.”

I let out a soft laugh, my breath warming his skin. “You must think I never shut up.”

“I don’t mind it.” His hand slipped lower, tracing slow, teasing patterns over the curve of my ass. “I like the way you talk.”

Something about that sent a delicious little shiver through me. I bit my lip, letting my fingers wander over the ridges of his stomach. “I just want you to know,” I said softly, “you never have to try to be someone you’re not with me.”

His hand stilled for just a second.

“I know you’re not the kind of man who’s going to sit around spilling his feelings all day,” I continued, my voice quiet, steady. “I know you’re not going to make long speeches or tell me things just because you think it’s what I want to hear. And that’s okay.” I pressed my lips to his chest, right over his heart. “Because I believe you. When you say something, I know you mean it. And that’s enough for me.”

His fingers tightened against my skin, his breathcoming just a little deeper. I felt the tension in his body, the weight of something unspoken.

Then, he exhaled, his grip sliding up to cup my face, his thumb tracing my cheek. “You’re dangerous,” he murmured.

I smiled, tilting my head into his touch. “You’re just figuring that out now?”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. His eyes said everything.

We lay there for a while, wrapped in the quiet warmth of each other, his fingers idly stroking my hip, my leg draped over his. But as much as I wanted to stay in this moment forever, reality crept back in.

The op.

The danger.

I chewed my lip, staring at the way our fingers tangled together on his chest. “What if something goes wrong tomorrow?”

Ryker’s grip tightened around me. “It won’t.”

---