Page 84 of Rival to the Billionaire

It's tearing me apart.

I try to remain stoic as she strokes my hand, her sad hazel eyes gaze out the window of the private plane.

"You okay?" I ask finally.

"Fine." She licks her lips. "Just tired."

"Tired could be good. Take a nap. You look exhausted."

"No," she snaps, glancing over. "I'm fine. I just want to get off this plane."

"It's okay." I smile again. Her eyes are back on the window, and I squeeze her hand. "You want to tell me what happened to your mom?"

"I—She…Nothing. Just…let's not talk about it now. Okay?”

I can tell she's lying through her teeth, but I just nod. "Okay. We'll talk later."

I want to push her, to tell her that I want to know everything that's going on with her, with her mom in the hospital right now. And with me.

But she looks fragile enough to break into two at my touch.

In her usual black skirt suit and blouse, ginger curls piled up on her head, she looks amazing, but the perpetual tightening of her lips tells me she's feeling anything but at ease.

She's on the verge of tears. She needs me to help her. But she doesn't want me to know what she needs, and that makes it worse.

Desperate to not just sit here like a dumbass, I unbuckle my seatbelt, leaping to my feet. I reach for the bin where our light luggage is stashed. Finding Jenny's bag, I unzip it, smiling to myself at the sight of what I knew would be in there.

I take it out slowly, and in a soft voice I call to her, "Hey. I found something for you. Is this okay?"

Her eyes lift from the window, and she gazes at me, though she looks like she's in a trance. I watch her eyes finally register her knitting needles in my hand.

"Oh," she says, a small smile pulling at the corner of her lips. "Well, we packed so fast I didn't have time to pay attention. My bag was a jumble this morning, and I couldn't find my knitting."

She takes the precious needles from me, and I drop back down in my seat. I can tell she's feeling better already.

"I'm sorry it was a jumble," I say. "I just thought you'd be excited to see them."

"Is there yarn in there too?"

I nod, reaching into the bag and pulling out a skein of lavender-colored yarn. "Are you still working on a scarf?"

"I don't know," she adds. "Sometimes when I abandon a project, I can't find the pattern. I've lost so many things recently…it's disheartening."

I squeeze her hand. "I won't let you lose this."

Her eyes are soft as she looks up at me, the glittery flecks of gold shimmering softly in the dim cabin light. She sighs. "I'm afraid, Ryder. I'm afraid for my mom. She's in the hospital, and I—I'm here. I'm not with her."

I press her knuckles, my heart aching. "But you will be," I tell her. "I promise."

Tears fill her eyes. "You don't know for sure that I'll be with my mom, Ryder. She's—she's really sick."

"I'm sure," I say. "Because I'm going to make sure you are. And I'll be there for you."

She fidgets with the yarn, playing with it. "How can I ask that of you? I made you leave the conference…right before the biggest speech of your career. We're completely off-schedule, and it's all my fault."

"That's not true," I say. "It wasn't your fault. It was mine."

"But—"

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