Page 66 of Redemption

CHAPTER TWENTY

Ryder pushed back in the ultra-deluxe leather seats of the Audi R8 V10 as he eased off the gas pedal and let the horsepower mellow out on the drive to the airport. Earlier, he made the premium sports car earn its reputation by eating the miles from Titan HQ to Winters’s. But now, Ryder was taking his sweet time, enjoying having Victoria in the passenger seat and wishing to hell she wasn’t going back to Iowa. “Maybe just one more romp, for old time’s sake.”

She laughed as he pulled into the parking lot and found a space. “What are you thinking? Maybe I just jump on over into your seat?”

“Yeah, love. Hop on over.” He parked then patted his thighs. “Or the hood. Always wanted to root on the hood of a sports racer.”

“Really? Good to know you have a healthy imagination.”

Still laughing, he raised an eyebrow. “Did I leave a question in your mind about that?”

She shook her head, eyes shining with unshed tears, smiling because they were still joking around. Then her lips pursed, and her face fell.

“I know,” he said, feeling down too. He reached over and unbuckled her seatbelt for her, unfastened his, then held up his arm, and she leaned in for a hug. Ryder wrapped his arms around her, holding her to his chest. “Going home is a good thing.”

She nodded against his shirt, sniffling. “I have things to do, people to catch up with.”

“You have your life, love.”

“Yes.” Her tear-soaked voice scratched.

Victoria took a deep breath and unburied her face, leaning awkwardly over the center console, and he moved his arm, keeping one draped over her shoulders.

“I have to tell you something, and it won’t make sense.” She shifted in her seat. “But I still want to say it.”

Wasn’t that the name of their game? “You go, then I’ll try too. How about that?”

“Okay.” She studied her fingernails for the longest time before she gave him her trusting eyes. “When I waded into hell and you pulled me out, the first thing you saved was my soul.” She looked out the window. “Dramatic, I get that. Too dramatic. But you became more than a friend, you were my foundation, and you’re forever woven into my heart for that.”

If he never forgot what she’d just said, he would grow old happy with everything he’d done in life. Ryder had met hundreds of people over the course of his time with Delta, maybe even thousands. No one had ever had such a profound effect on him. “I don’t have anything that’s nearly as perfect as that, love.”

His cell phone chirped with an alarm reminder of what time she had to be inside the airport—just in case he found himself distracted—and he cursed the bloody thing. He turned it off. “A few more minutes, then we head in.”

She settled back against the crook of his arm, still draped over the console, and they stayed with their thoughts until he forced away himself from her.

Victoria shut her door, and without any luggage, only a small bag Mia made her take, she walked around the hood of the sports car and pressed a paper into his hand.

“What’s this?”

“Basically, what I said. A note, in case I chickened out and didn’t tell you what I thought.”

Nostalgia rushed over him, but he pushed it aside and stared at the woman in front of him. “You are a very special girl to me. I hope you know that, and I’m going to visit you.”

A doubtful grin teased her lips. “You’d better.”

“You can count on it.”

Ryder walked Victoria as far as checkpoints would let him go, and he kissed her goodbye—not some stupid, sweet, take-care kiss, but one meant for a helpless goodbye, the kind that lit his soul on fire and made the woman next to him blush.

As soon as he couldn’t see Victoria any more, he found the closest row of benches and tore open her note.

Ryder,

Because of you, I’ve relearned what I already knew.

I believe I met you for a purpose, and you are my reminder, my educator, my reason for my being me.

I learned, again, that things break, but they can be repaired. That things go wrong, but they can always be made right. Almost nothing is permanent, and if I can’t remember that, and believe it for the future, then maybe I can for just a minute, then the next minute, then maybe longer and longer until the future doesn’t seem shattered.

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