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 shot Ryder a look. “A little?” I asked.
He shrugged one shoulder. “The back door, a couple of windows, and a leaky pipe under the kitchen sink. Odds and ends.”
I narrowed my eyes and huffed out a breath in annoyance. Who in their right mind fixed things in someone else’s house? Not only that but he was using his own money and doing it without permission. It made no damn sense.
The tour continued outside, but I caught Ryder answering more questions than I did.
The roof.
The well.
The fencing.
He knew every detail without having to think about it.
When Kacey finally thanked me and headed back toward his SUV with promises to send paperwork in a few days, I waited until his vehicle disappeared down the drive before turning toward Ryder.
“You could’ve let me answer.”
“You didn’t know what he was askin’.”
“I would’ve figured it out.”
He slid a wrench back into the toolbox. “Maybe.”
Something about the calm certainty in his voice irritated me. “You don’t have to keep fixing everything.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then why are you?”
His gaze drifted around the kitchen before settling on the cracked window over the sink. “Somebody ought to.”
The answer caught me off guard. “This isn’t your responsibility.”
“No.”
“But you keep acting like it is.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “When something’s been neglected long enough,” he said, “you stop noticing what’s broken.”
I frowned. “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”
“Didn’t say you had to.”
He picked up the toolbox and started toward the back door.
“Ryder.”
He stopped but didn’t turn around.
“Thank you.”
The words came out quieter than I’d intended.
He stood there for a second before giving a single nod. Then, he walked outside without another word.
I watched him cross the yard, his broad shoulders growing smaller with every step until he disappeared around the side of the barn.
The ranch fell quiet again, and it should’ve felt like a relief.
Instead, I found myself listening for the sound of his boots, almost expecting him to come back.
He didn’t.
And somehow, being alone didn’t feel nearly as safe as I’d always believed it would.
4
The storm rolled in faster than anyone had predicted.
By late afternoon, the sky turned the color of bruises, and low clouds swallowed the mountains until they disappeared. The air strangely stilled, the kind of heavy silence that always came before something bad.
I stood on the front porch with my arms folded, watching the first flash of lightning split the horizon. Thunder followed, rattling the windows. The lights inside the house flickered once, twice, then everything went dark.
“Great,” I muttered.
As if that lone word was the trigger the weather needed, rain drummed down hard enough to blur the pasture in seconds, pounding the tin roof so violently I could barely hear myself think.
Wind bent the trees along the fence line until their branches scraped against one another like bones.
I rushed inside and made sure all the windows were closed before grabbing my cell. My phone had one bar, then none.
I found the flashlight I’d packed and moved through the house. Every room felt colder without power, and shadows crept into corners that had looked harmless only minutes earlier.
The power kept flicking in and out and finally stayed on, but who knew for how long. Another crack of thunder shook the walls, and something slammed outside. I jumped. For one stupid second, I imagined my father stumbling through the front door, whiskey on his breath and rage in his eyes.
The memory vanished as quickly as it came, and I squeezed my eyes shut, hating I still carried this trauma all these years later. Through the howling wind and violent rain, I heard a truck engine rumble up the drive, and a second later, headlights swept across the windows.
I didn’t need to look to know whose truck it was. My gut told me Ryder was here in three… two… one… A heavy knock sounded on the front door followed by a booming voice.
“Lila.”
I let out an exasperated sigh and opened the door. Water streamed off the brim of his hat and down the shoulders of his jacket.
“Power’s out all over,” he said without preamble and let himself in. I stumbled back, scoffing at the audacity of this man. “Heard a tree come down near the house. You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Lightning exploded close enough to make the house tremble. The porch light burst with a sharp crack, showering tiny pieces of glass across the weathered boards. I jumped, instinctively stepping backward.
“Easy,” Ryder said, his voice low and steady. His hand closed around my forearm just long enough to guide me away from the broken glass before he let go.
Thunder rolled overhead, hard enough to rattle every window in the house. The lights inside flickered a few times then everything went black. For a second, neither of us moved as rain hammered the roof so loudly it drowned out everything else.