Page 111 of Hellbent
He pulls back, frowning. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say quickly. “Just…still out of it from yesterday, I think.”
Ryder speaks from just beyond the doorway, voice eerily calm and even.
“Jake.”
Jake turns, still half-facing me. “Yeah?”
“Did you check the comm units for tracking before you moved them?”
Jake blinks. “Uh, no? I figured Wyatt would handle—”
“He didn’t,” Ryder says flatly. “They pinged during the last sync. You need to wipe and reload.”
A beat.
Jake nods once. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
Without missing a beat, he looks back at me.
His eyes sweep down. Bare legs. Bare feet. Oversized camo shirt.
His head tilts and he tugs playfully at the hem of the shirt. “Is this my shirt you’re wearing?”
I open my mouth. Then close it.
Damian pulls a bottle of water out of the fridge and unscrews the cap.
“That,” he says matter-of-factly, tipping the bottle at me, “is Ryder’s shirt.”
Jake frowns. Slightly. Thoughtfully.
I clear my throat. “I should get dressed. I don’t have anything here,” I add. “All my stuff’s still at the garage.”
“Wyatt’s coming by with your stuff later,” says Ryder, for once breaking the tension. “I’ll get you something for now.”
He turns and heads for the stairs, and on a whim, I follow him.
At least with Ryder, the lines are already drawn. With Jake and Damian, it’s a minefield.
In the bedroom, Ryder opens a drawer and tosses a folded pair of black drawstring shorts onto the bed.
“That should work,” he says without turning around.
But he doesn’t leave.
He pauses, shoulders rigid, and then finally says:
“I shouldn’t have touched you.”
The words land like a brick. No warmth. No softness. Just flat truth.
He turns, dark eyes devastating.
“I crossed a line,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
And then he’s walking toward the door. Past me. No eye contact.
