He cringes, the phrase more vulgar than friends with benefits.
“I know that. I would never… I just thought it might get him to back off.”
“Back off? Back off what?”
“You. Or do you like the way he looks at you? I sure as fuck didn’t.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not your place to step in.”
“Like hell, it isn’t.”
“Just sex.” I throw his words back in his face. The agreement we made.
“Don’t do that. Just because we’re not in a relationship doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I think I’ve made that abundantly clear.”
“By fucking me every chance you get?”
“Holy shit, where is this coming from?”
We’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk, a completely inappropriate place for this conversation, and everything hits me like a ton of bricks. The pain Devlin inflicted on me. The sadness from everything I lost. The anguish from what’s staring me right in the face, but I can never have.
Tears stream down my face.
“Shit, Ember, come here.” He pulls me against him, shielding me from prying eyes. When the tears finally subside, his shirt is soaked, and my mascara is a mess. Ryder laces our fingers together and leads me to a nearby park, where we sit on a bench beneath a large tree.
“Talk to me, Ember. Tell me what I did.”
“You going all possessive caveman back there reminded me of something my ex would do. He was very possessive and controlling.”
His head hangs. “That wasn’t my intention. I'm sorry, though, I made you feel like that. I don’t look at you like a possession or a fuck buddy.”
“No, I’m sorry. You’re not him. You’re nothing like him. You didn’t deserve that.”
“And you didn’t deserve the way he treated you or how I behaved. You’re right. I had no right stepping in. It’s just that… the way he was looking at you.”
“Creepy, huh?”
“To say the least.”
“He’s actually the reason I applied for the nanny position. We had a little run-in in the storage closet, and I panicked.”
“What did he do?”
“I’m pretty sure he was just trying to scare me or mess with me.”
“What did he do, Ember?”
“He cornered me, but I got away before anything could happen.”
“Stay away from the diner,” Ryder instructs.
“You’re not my father.” His demand fuels the fire in me again. “I’ll do as I please.”
“Wrong choice of words. I’m used to giving orders.” We sit in silence for a moment. “What did he do to you?”
“I already told you… nothing. He was just trying to scare me.”
“Not the douche at the diner. Your ex. You said he was controlling and possessive. Did he… did he hurt you?”