Page 19 of The Rockstar

Ryder doesn’t flinch or look away. “Sometimes you just know. Didn’t you feel it?”

I don’t answer right away. My throat is tight. The tears I’ve been holding back spill over. “I don’t know what to feel, Ryder. Everything happened so fast. I don’t even know where we’re going. I’m just a lowly bookstore owner. The only ones who know my name are my family, friends, my regular buyers, and the old couple who own the flower shop next door. You’re a household name. We belong in different worlds.”

I don’t want to say it.

Every part of me wants to go back in time—back to his little cabin in the woods, where the actual world seems so far away. But I know better now.

“I can’t do it,” I whisper. “Ryder, I just can’t.”

He’s quiet, and it makes it harder. Because if he fought me, if he got angry, if he told me I was overreacting, maybe I could walk away more easily. But he doesn’t. He just looks at me with so much sadness it rips me apart.

“From the second we left that supply room, it’s just been … flashes and screaming and people shoving and looking at me with disgust or hatred. And I know that sounds dramatic. I know it’s just one day. But if this is what forever looks like with you, I don’t think I’ll survive it.”

He swallows hard and scrubs a hand across his face. “I would never force you into that. If it’s too much, I get it. I really do. Not everyone’s cut out for this life.”

“But it’s not just about me,” I say, chest heaving. “You were up there on that stage, Ryder. God, you were magic. You belong in this world. You made me feel so many things with your music.”

“Vi, I told you. You’re more important than any spotlight. I’ve been here for more than ten years. I’ve lived it all, and I will throw it all away for you.”

It hurts to look at him because I believe him. That’s the worst part. I believe he means it.

But I don’t know how to carry this. I don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want to be the reason he leaves the industry because, in a few years, he’ll end up resenting me.

“I should go,” I say, hating every word.

“I’ll drive you.”

I shake my head, already pulling out my phone and sending a quick message. “Valerie’s on her way.”

He doesn't argue. That silence is worse than anything he could’ve said.

I glance out the window as we wait. Every minute feels like an hour. My fingers shake, and I clutch them together in my lap to still them, but nothing steadies the ache that’s taken root in my chest. The silence in the car is suffocating, thick with everything we’re not saying.

And then we see the headlights.

Valerie pulls up, and I fumble with the door handle, heart hammering. I want to stay. God, I want to stay and take him up on his offer. Wouldn’t it be nice to be in our own little world and not care about anyone else?

But that’s a fantasy I can’t entertain right now.

I get out. My feet feel heavy, like I’m wading through thick sludge.

The dome light is on, and I see my sister. Her eyes flick to Ryder, then to me, and something in her face softens. She knows. She always knows.

I walk to the car, but before I climb in, I glance back.

He’s still in the driver’s seat, window down, still watching me, but his face is unreadable now, locked down. I yearn to see his smile, the careless laugh, but I can’t have everything.

I offer him a smile that’s more of an apology than a goodbye.

“Goodbye, Ryder.”

And then I slip inside, shut the door, and let Valerie drive me away.

The tears fall again, silent this time because I know, deep down, leaving him may have been the right choice, but God, that doesn’t make it any less painful.

7

RYDER

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