Page 120 of Hellbent
A pause.
“Then Damian.”
He swallows, jaw clenching.
“And I made some calls in my head I shouldn’t have. Assumptions. Judgments. I told myself it was about protecting the group. But that was bullshit. I was angry. Jealous.”
His voice drops.
“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t gut me when Wyatt told me what he walked in on at the garage. You and Damian. That fucked me up.”
My pulse skitters. He studies me, and I can see it—all the things he’s holding back. The need. The restraint. The regret.
“This morning,” he continues, “I thought I could walk it back. Pretend it didn’t mean anything. But when the dust settled tonight, all I could think about was you. Not the fight. Not the fallout. Just you.”
My heart stops beating. His words knock the breath out of my lungs.
I want to reach for him. Say something. Anything. But the guilt is a knot in my throat. Because wanting him doesn’t erase what it cost.
Jake. Damian. I owe them amends as well.
Ryder watches me for a long moment before he speaks again.
“I’m not wired to share, Max. That’s not who I’ve ever been. But I love those men. They’re my brothers. And you—” He breaks off. Inhales. “You don’t owe me anything,” he says softly. “But you’re…you’re not something I know how to give up.”
I can’t speak for a second.
You’re not something I know how to give up.
I can’t believe this is Ryder saying this. All this time, I thought he hated me. I thought I was crazy for not being able to get him out of my head. And now here he is saying he felt all the same things. It’s like a different Ryder came home and replaced the one who left.
I reach for him—just my fingers brushing over his. I don’t even know if I mean to, but I do it anyway. Like I need proof that he’s real. That this is real.
His hand turns under mine so that our palms meet.
“I feel like I can’t breathe right when you’re in the room,” I whisper. “And when you’re not there, you’re all I can think about. All I know is I want you. And I hate that it feels like that makes me the villain.”
Ryder’s fingers tighten around mine—brief, but enough to feel like a shock of electricity. The barest tension lines his mouth and eyes.
“I don’t know how to want you without breaking everything,” I confess. “I care about them, and I hurt them.”
He draws a breath, gaze fixed on our joined hands as if anchoring himself there.
“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “Me too. Listen, Jake’s always been more...open. You don’t have to worry about him. He doesn’t tie knots around what’s his. That’s not how he works. But Damian’s different. He’s the one who’s hurt.”
“Will he forgive me?”
“I think it’s going to take time. But yeah. Eventually, he’ll forgive us both.”
The wind moans outside, pressing hard against the windows, and the room lights up—brilliant white behind the curtains.
The boom comes a heartbeat later.
Loud…and close.
I flinch, and Ryder’s head snaps toward the sound—his hand already on me, pressing into my thigh like he’s ready to throw himself over me if he has to. His instincts are instant, the soldier in him ready to shield me from anything.
He looks toward the hallway, checking the light, and exhales.
