Chapter 85
Xena’s POV
“So I’m your safe choice,” Ryder’s voice carried a wounded tone, his green eyes dimming
with hurt.
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, unable to meet his gaze directly. The intensity between us was suffocating in the close confines of his bedroom. Everything about this space screamed Ryder–the faint pine scent, the leather jacket tossed casually over a chair, sketches of motorcycle designs pinned to a corkboard.
“Yes and no,” I finally responded, my voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, you make me feel safe. I’m comfortable here, I like it here.” I gestured vaguely around us before dropping my hand. “But you yourself aren’t a safe choice. You mean vulnerability. You have the capacity to hurt me–emotionally, mentally, even physically. I’m afraid of being your mate because then you’d feel all my insecurities, my weaknesses, my fears. You’re an unknown variable to me, and my brain is screaming at me to run, but my heart wants to stay. Giving you that power and trusting you not to abuse it… it’s terrifying.”
My chest constricted painfully with each confession. The walls I’d built over years were crumbling, and I felt exposed in a way I never had before, not even with Samuel. The thought of Samuel sent a fresh wave of pain through me. So much loss, so much
heartache.
“You’re afraid of being loved,” Ryder said softly.
His words cut through me like a blade, finding the most tender part of my heart with terrifying accuracy. Yes, I was afraid of being loved, because love meant the possibility of loss. I knew it was irrational, but the fear was embedded in my marrow, impossible to shake off easily.
“Sometimes, love isn’t enough,” I replied, my voice trembling slightly. I hated how vulnerable I sounded. “Dad loves me, but it’s not enough. Logan loves me, but it’s not enough. Samuel loved me, and now he’s dead.” The words caught in my throat. “What if one day you love me too, and then you die because of it? I’m not worth that sacrifice.”
Ryder remained silent for a long minute, his green eyes never leaving my face. Then he stood up, moving with that predatory grace that never failed to make my heart skip a
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beat. Before I could react, he’d scooped me up and sat me on his lap, trapping my feet with his calves so I couldn’t escape.
My first instinct was to struggle, to break free from this cage of warm flesh, but something in his steady heartbeat against my back made me gradually relax.
“You are absolutely worth being loved,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “I wish you could see how beautiful your heart is. I know I can’t convince you of anything right now, but after tomorrow, I’ll spend the rest of my life making you understand how loved you
are.”
Ryder cupped my face in his hands and placed the gentlest kiss on my lips, then pulled me into a tight embrace. I fit perfectly against his chest, melting into his arms with an
ease that frightened me.
The feeling was so foreign–being cherished, protected, not for my value or capabilities but simply because I was me. My heart trembled, wanting to believe him yet afraid to
trust him.
“Should we continue with the designs?” he asked after a while.
“Sure,” I agreed, though I didn’t really want to move. When he released my feet, I stood up
reluctantly.
Ryder brought over the books and laid them on the coffee table so we could browse while finishing our food.
“What kind of flooring do you want?” he asked.
I considered what I truly wanted my space to look like, envisioning my perfect motorcycle shop now that I had the chance to rebuild it after everything that had happened.
“Hmm, I want light olive or sage green walls. The flooring shouldn’t be too dark, but maybe more gray than brown?”
“Like this?” Ryder pulled out a sample that was close to what I had in mind.
I studied the sample carefully, thinking about practical considerations. “Too bright. I don’t
want something that will show dust or scratches easily.”
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“What about this?” He produced another sample that was very gray with hints of brown. It had built–in subtle texturing that would hide any scrapes.
“I like this one. How much per square foot?” I asked, my business sense kicking in
automatically.
“Don’t worry about the price. Everything here is within your budget. Even if you picked the most expensive options, it would all be covered. Penelope is truly talented–no wonder she’s your assistant.”
“I have a gift for selecting the right people,” I said with a slight smile.
We continued discussing the designs for the bathroom and customization area when there was a knock on the door. “Xena?” It was Ama’s voice. I walked over to open the door.
“How’s it going?” Ama asked, her blonde curls bouncing as she practically skipped into the
room.
“Just finished designing my shop!” I said with a genuine smile.
“That’s great! Let’s go sunbathe by the pool,” she suggested excitedly.
“Perfect. You girls go ahead. I’ll send this to Penelope. William and I have some work to handle, and then we’ll join you for dinner,” Ryder said.
“Do you have Penelope’s contact information?” I asked Ryder, suddenly realizing I hadn’t given it to him.
“I gave it to him,” Ama quickly interjected. Something in their expressions made me immediately suspicious.
“Want to tell me what you’re hiding?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“Don’t be like that! I want to go swimming!” Ama actually stomped her foot like a child.
“Calm down. I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” I pointed out.
“I brought one for you!” She held up a bag triumphantly.
I eyed her suspiciously. She rolled her eyes and grabbed my arm. “Come on!”
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“Have fun!” William called after us.
“Help me!” I pretended to be kidnapped, but Ryder just smirked.
“Come on! It’ll be fun!” Ama insisted.
We went to her bedroom to change. “This is yours…” She tossed me what looked like an extremely revealing swimsuit. Once I put it on, I realized my concerns were justified- while it supported my chest well, it left my cleavage completely exposed. My backside was barely covered too, though I supposed that was the style these days.
Ama wore a basic string bikini, hers in neon yellow while mine was black.
“William approved of you wearing this?” I asked, not particularly bothered by the revealing nature of the suit myself, but feeling a little uncomfortable in this specific
context.
“Uh, no, but I get what I want eventually,” she said with a grin.
“Nice. Got towels?” I asked, ready to move on.
“Right here! Let’s go!” She handed me an oversized t–shirt as a cover–up along with some flip–flops, then headed out.
“Where’s the pool?”
“Just down the road. It’s a community pool.”
“Terrific,” I said sarcastically as we climbed into a golf cart. Ama drove like a maniac, making me hold onto the seat for dear life.
“I’m driving on the way back,” I muttered as I nearly fell out of the cart when we stopped.
“Don’t be so dramatic!” Ama rolled her eyes and sighed. “If you keep this up, William
won’t let me drive anymore.”
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