Page 67 of Howling Night

Ryder stood motionless for a moment, staring after him. When he turned back toward the truck, his expression was unreadable. I felt a chill run through me that had nothing to do with the temperature.

Ryder pulled open the driver’s side door and held out his hand to me. I grabbed my purse and took his hand.

“This is why you can’t step down,” I said when we got to the door. “They need you.”

“Everly,” Ryder said, shaking his head.

“I’ll miss the hell out of you, too,” I said, forcing a smile. “It’s for the best. Besides, shouldn’t you be with a woman who is like you?”

A noise moved through Ryder’s chest. “I should be with who I want to be with.”

“Sorry,” I said, digging in my purse for my keys.

“It’s fine,” Ryder said, glancing toward the trees. “Just frustrated with all of this.”

I opened the house door, my keys jingling in my hand. The night had taken a weird turn, but still I wasn’t ready for it to end — not like this.

“Would you like to come in?” I asked, turning to face him. “I don’t have any wine as good as what we had at the restaurant, but I have some juice or maybe some diet soda.”

His eyes scanned the trees behind him before meeting my eyes. “I would like that.”

Once inside, we didn’t talk much about what had happened with Paul. Instead, we found comfort in each other’s company, in the simple normalcy of being together.

That night, I fell asleep curled against Ryder’s chest, his strong arms wrapped protectively around me. For someone who carried so much responsibility, he slept deeply beside me, letting out a few rumbling noises from his throat every so often as he dreamed about something.

We stayed that way until late morning, the sun high in the sky, when we finally stirred. He smiled at me as my eyelids fluttered open.

“Still beautiful,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“What do you like for breakfast?” I asked, my nose scrunching as I tried to think what I could offer. “I have eggs, sausage… toast or bagels.”

He tucked his hands behind his head. “A guy could get used to this.”

“Well? What do you like?”

“All of it,” he said, grinning.

He sat on the sofa, checking his phone while I cooked. It was so calm and peaceful, and everything I wanted when I moved out to the country. I’d never felt more… I wasn’t sure what it was… happiness?

“All right,” I said, setting his plate down on the table. “Scrambled eggs with cheese, overcooked sausage, and heavily buttered toast.”

“Perfect,” he said, sitting down.

Ryder put his clothes on after we’d crawled out of bed, but hadn’t bothered to button up his shirt. He looked more delicious than my food.

“I need to get to work,” he said reluctantly as he finished the last bite of food. “Have some projects I need to get set up with the crew today.”

“Yeah, of course,” I said, waving a hand. “I should probably start boxing everything up.”

He stood and started buttoning his shirt. “Thought we weren’t going to talk about that?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” I said, lowering my head.

“Hey,” he said, hooking his thumb under my chin. “You don’t need to turn your beautiful face away from me or be sorry about anything.”

“I just don’t want you to feel like I’m just using you or something,” I said, frowning. “I love every minute I get with you, but we know this is the right thing to do. I don’t belong here.”

Ryder didn’t respond. He pulled me in for a soft kiss, his lips lingering as if he were trying to think of any excuse he could to stay.

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