Chapter 36 "How did I know I'd find you out here?" I smile, turning around to find Ryker walking toward me. It's been three days since he found me curled up in bed, sicker than I've ever felt in my life, and I can't deny how happy I've been over the last three days. No matter how badly I've treated him or how many times I've tried pushing him away, he stayed and took care of me when I needed him. It's something I can't move past. I know we should talk about what's happening between us, but neither of us has been brave enough to say anything. We've been in a bubble. A bubble where he kisses me, holds my hand, and the only thing we fight about is what to watch on TV. There's been a shift, but I'm too terrified to think about what that actually means. I'm trying to be cautious. I'm trying to tell myself that nothing can really happen for many different reasons. The biggest being how furious my dad would be if he found out I was spending every night with my client. But locked in a bubble with Ryker, I can't seem to care what my dad thinks. "You knew you'd find me here because you've locked me away for days. Where else would I be?" Ryker chuckles, his eyes scanning the backyard for a moment. The backyard of his family's Hampton home has become my favorite place. And since Ryker hasn't let me leave, as he swears I'm still recovering from being sick, I've been spending even more time out here than normal. "If you really wanted to leave, I would've let you," he notes, taking a seat next to me on the edge of the concrete. He pulls one shoe off and then the other, setting them next to him before copying me and dipping his toes in the pool. "But you work too much. It's probably the reason you ended up so sick. Your body needed to rest." He wraps an arm around me and pulls me into his side, placing a kiss to the top of my hair. He does it cautiously, as if he's not sure this is something I'll let him do. His body is stiff as he pulls me into him, and I can't help but wonder if he's afraid that this might be the time I push him away. Is he expecting me to? Should I? It's probably better for us both in the end if I did push him away right now. But I don't. I can't. "How did lunch with your dad go?" I ask, letting my body fully relax against his. After I got rid of the brain fog from being sick, I spent at least an hour making him share every detail about his meeting in Manhattan. It turns out we've done a better job at making him look good to the board than I thought. Most of them are already on board with Ryker taking over Davenport Media at the end of the summer. I'm curious to know if he got any more information from his dad at lunch today. Ryker's fingers trace circles on my bare shoulder as he thinks about my question. He's been doing that a lot in the time since I was sick. It's like he's always having to touch me. I can't help but wonder if he's taking any chance he can to feel the connection of our skin, wondering if one of the times will be the last. "It went really well, actually. It feels good to have him look at me and his gaze not be full of disappointment anymore. He believes I'll get board approval." This makes me smile. "I believe that too." S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FindNøvᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. With his free hand, Ryker places his fingers underneath my chin and tilts my face up to look at him. "I know I've been a dick, and I fought you every chance I got, but thank you for helping me with this. Really. You helped pull my head out of my ass, and no matter how much I thought I could do this on my own, I don't think I could've done it without you. Definitely not this quickly." "I've been telling you from day one you needed me to get the job done. Glad you're finally accepting it." "It's all because of the binder," he teases, leaning in close so our lips almost touch. This makes me laugh. I've found myself laughing more in the last three days than I ever have before. Now that he isn't trying to get on my nerves all the time, I realize why everyone else loves him. He's got a personality that makes it hard not to smile around him. I like that I'm starting to see the real him and not the one who was putting up a front to protect himself from me. And I'm terrified of the feelings I'm developing now that I see who he is. I give him a playful smack against his stomach. "Stop hating on the binder. You've charmed so many of your board members because of the information in that binder." He laughs before pressing a kiss to my lips. Why does even the slightest press of his lips against mine give me butterflies? "You're right. Your research let me know that if I talked to Harrison O'Neill about his prized Pomeranians, I'd quickly get into his good graces." I nod, kicking my feet in the water as I think about Harrison's obsession with his dogs. From my research, I think he might love those dogs more than he loves his own children, but that's purely speculation. "And once you got into his good graces..." "I was in everyone else's," he finishes. "Exactly." I smile at him before resting my head on his shoulder. We're both quiet as we soak in the moment. It's a beautiful evening, the bright afternoon sun shifting into a brilliant orange. The first thing that pops into my mind is how much I'll miss this place once the summer's over. Neither one of us has mentioned what happens when he does get the board's approval. I think it'll happen sooner rather than later. Part of me is excited about that. If we get the job done, then he'll no longer be my client. Would we be able to continue whatever this is in Manhattan? Would he even want to? Or once we aren't forced together anymore, will I even be someone he still wants to spend time with? There's a pit in my stomach when I think about returning to Manhattan. I've always loved the city and my job. My entire life has revolved around being the best damn publicist I can be so that I could one day get my father's approval. It's what I want most in this world, for him to trust me with the company he built from the ground up. At least, that's what I used to want. Now, I can't stop wondering if the drunken words Ryker said to me out of spite have any truth to them. Will my father make me a partner at the firm? Or will he come up with another excuse about why it's not the right time? The end of this job means finding out the answer to the question that's been nagging at me since the night Ryker spoke my biggest fear into existence. I hate to admit it, but the thought that he might not trust me wasn't even one that Ryker put into my head. I wondered it myself the moment Dad said he didn't believe Ryker would ever get the board's approval. I just wanted to believe it wasn't true. I blink a few times, trying to rid my mind of the thoughts. Worrying about them won't change anything right now. All I can do is keep doing whatever I can to help Ryker impress the Davenport Media board. I've been avoiding calls from my dad in the process. Partly because I'm scared of letting it slip that I've been sharing a bed with my client and partly because I don't want to hear him tell me to stop the forward momentum. He doesn't want me to succeed at this job-something I don't want to think deeply about-and it's getting harder and harder to pretend we aren't making progress. "I wish you could've met my mom," Ryker says, his voice pulling me from my thoughts. "Actually, the two of you might have been trouble together. She loved to call me on my shit, just like you do." "I would've loved to have met her." While Ryker was at lunch today, I spent my time wandering the house. I tried to work, but there isn't a lot for me to do right now. I'd done a lot of the heavy lifting with the research in the beginning. Now, it's more dependent on Ryker carrying through with impressing the board members and me assisting as needed. While I was exploring the house, I found an album filled to the brim with photographs. I don't tell him this, but I spent over an hour looking through the pages, loving the glimpse into how completely normal Ryker's childhood was. His mom-and his dad-both seemed like incredible parents. They had family pictures together on the beach, candid photos in the house, ones at the club. It really showcased a perfect family. I looked at their photos, wondering how many my own family has. I know it isn't a lot. There are ones of me taken by my mom, and even some of just me and Mom together, but not a lot with Dad since he was always working. After Mom passed, we never took pictures. Dad never wanted to. To be honest, I don't think he cared to have pictures with me. I was just a reminder of her. I wonder if he regrets it...not having many pictures with Mom. He loved her. Sometimes I wonder if the only things he's ever really loved in life are her and Vaughn PR. "When she first got diagnosed, all of her doctors were optimistic about her future. They thought she could beat it." He stops talking, and I don't fill the silence. I don't want to ruin the moment. I want him to feel comfortable enough to open up about her. I twist my body so we're face-to-face. I hate the sadness in his eyes. Someone who radiates sunshine like him shouldn't be allowed to look sad. But he does. He looks so fucking sad that it breaks my heart a little. "Things got bad quick. One moment, she was still with us, and the next..." He looks away from me, his eyes focusing on the water. "She was gone." I reach out to touch his face, wanting to run my fingers along his cheek. My hand stays in the air between us for a moment as I wonder if this is something he'll let me do. As if he can read my mind, his fingers clasp around my wrist and pull my hand to his cheek. I flatten my palm against his skin as I try to ignore the way my heart races with the way he looks at me. I'm trying to fight the feelings I'm developing for him, but it's getting harder and harder to do. I want to let him in, but I'm scared to. I'm not good at letting people in, but the way Ryker looks at me right now makes me want to try. "I'm sorry," I finally tell him, knowing that my words do nothing to dull the pain of the loss of a mother. Losing my mom as a teenager just about destroyed me. She was my everything. She was the only person in this world who loved me. Losing her and dealing with her death completely alone shaped me into the person I am today. He's still clearly dealing with the grief that comes with the loss of a parent, and I don't even want to pretend that anything I can say can help him with that grief. "I really wish I could've met her. She raised an incredible son." His eyes close for a moment. "I don't know about that," he says, his words coming out barely above a whisper. "But I'm trying to be." My thumb traces over his cheekbone, and something about this moment feels important. He looks at me with so much vulnerability in his gaze that I can't imagine him ever putting his guard up again. I can't imagine putting mine up either. I just don't know where that leaves us.