Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
I stopped a few feet away and my entire body heated just being close to him. The air between us charged with electricity, the way it always did now that we’d crossed that line. Ryder’s gaze stayed on me, dark and steady, like he was already bracing for whatever I was about to say.
I didn’t jump straight in, but I did glance back at him. “You never talk about him,” I said finally. “My father. Not once since I came back.”
Ryder wiped his hands on a rag, slow and deliberate, and didn’t deny it.
“I’ve only gone in town a few times since being back, but people in town talk like they’re glad he’s gone,” I continued. “Like the crash was some kind of relief. No one asks questions or even pretends to be surprised he died.”
He tossed the rag onto the workbench and leaned against it, arms crossed. The bare bulb above him cast hard shadows across his face. “They are glad,” he said. The words were simple. Flat and final.
“What happened after I left?”
Ryder’s jaw flexed once, and he looked past me for a second, then his attention slowly moved back to me. “He got worse, if you can believe that,” he said quietly. “Meaner. Started tearin’ the place up when he drank, smashed things, took his gun out and shot holes in the walls. Started runnin’ the tractor into the fence just because he could. Destroyed shit. Authorities came around a lot, and he got locked up plenty. But people stopped showing up. Stopped callin’ the sheriff because it never changed a damn thing.” His voice stayed low and even, but something hard sat underneath it. “He wasn’t just drinkin’ anymore,” Ryder said. “He was doing drugs, would lay lay low for a week, and then start all over again.”
The quiet that followed felt thick enough to choke on, and I held his gaze. “Why does this whole town act like they’re relieved he’s dead?” I understood. God, I understood, but some twisted part of me still carried this strange attachment to him simply because he was my father… even after everything he’d done.
Ryder looked past me toward the open barn doors and the darkening pasture. His voice, when he finally spoke, was ominous and gruff. “Some men don’t stop til’ someone makes them.”
I stared at him, heart beating too hard against my ribs. I heard what he said… and what he didn’t. He met my eyes without flinching, and what was reflected back at me was a quiet, unshakable certainty that had always made him feel like the most dangerous man I’d ever known.
“What happened, Ryder?” I whispered, not realizing I’d said the words out loud.
He didn’t look away when he spoke again. “He got drunk one night and started runnin’ his mouth,” Ryder said, voice flat and controlled. “Talkin’ about you. About how he was going to bring you home whether you liked it or not. Said some things no man should ever say about his own daughter.” His jaw flexed hard, and I saw his hands curl into tight fists. “Said them right in front of me.”
The air in the barn went still.
Ryder held my gaze for long seconds. “You want me to go on?”
Without thinking, I found myself nodding slowly. But did I really?
“That was the night everything changed,” he continued. “Decided he wasn’t going to get the chance to put his hands on you again. Never say one more goddamn thing about you. Not ever.”
He didn’t tell me the rest. He didn’t have to, and although I didn’t ask the real question, I knew what he was saying. Panic welled in my stomach and radiated through my limbs and head, but I didn't know if it was because of Ryder or this weird relief I felt.
I turned and walked out of the barn before I could figure out what was happening, before I could ask him if he’d killed my father. For me.
He didn’t stop me as I got in my car and drove home. He let me run because he knew I needed it. The implication of what Ryder said was in the car with me like a passenger, heavy and unspoken.
Some men don’t stop til’ someone makes them.
His words hung heavy around me.
For the first time since I’d come home, I wasn’t sure whether the man I cared about—the man I loved—was the safest place I’d ever known… or the most dangerous.
13
Ididn’t sleep. I couldn’t.
Every time I closed my eyes, I heard Ryder’s voice again telling me that some men don’t stop until someone makes them and the quiet certainty behind those words. The implication sat heavy in my chest all night, growing louder until I couldn’t ignore it anymore.
Around two in the morning, I finally gave up. I pulled on an old sweatshirt, went downstairs, and made a pot of coffee. I sat at the kitchen table in the dark and drank it black, staring out the window toward the Kane Ranch even though I couldn’t see anything past the porch light.