“In the sea.”
I stare at her. Did she hit her head somewhere? Is she drunk? “The sea?”
“You see something in him, like I do. I’m not crazy. He’s not an asshole.” She gazes at me with clear eyes. “His mom died, Rid. That must have hurt him.”
“Are you saying, what—that he has problems getting emotionally close to women because his mom died?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
Good question. Maybe she’s right. Or maybe not. “I don’t trust him.”
“Rid…”
“You are a nice girl,” I tell her, trying to put my jumbled thoughts into order. “You see the best in people.”
Which is probably why she says she likes a fucked-up guy like me in the first place. She could change her mind again, of course.
“But?”
“But if he acts like an asshole, Princess, he probably is an asshole.”
/> This is what my experience tells me.
A sexy, moody asshole.
She laughs at me as if I’ve said something clever and funny. “I know.”
“You do?”
I heave a sigh of relief—shocked to find a flicker of disappointment there, too. No second chances after all, huh? I feel strangely let down, as if this rule should apply to me, too.
Because I still don’t know where this leaves me.
“Good,” I say. “Bry…”
“But remember the gold.”
The gold.
Like his hair. Or the tiny flecks in his green eyes. Like his arms around me.
“I’ll try.”
Chapter Eighteen
Sweet Iron Bar
Ryan
“It’s over between us.”
Days later, Brylee’s words still echo in my mind. I work harder than ever, trying to erase her from my thoughts. Her, and Riddick, and how they both tasted, so different.
So good.
I hurt her. Probably him, too, by leaving like that. I keep leaving, keep walking out, keep telling them I don’t care about them.
You’re such an asshole, Ryan.