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“It was fake,” he replied, his tone flat.

“I know that. I told Ashton the same thing,” I said at the exact same time he added, “Crowsfell already debunked it and put out a statement.”

We both paused, the echo of our overlapping words hanging in the air.

“Already?” I asked, turning toward him.

“The video went up at like 6 A.M Crowsfell was on it immediately. Whoever was behind it will probably get close to the same punishment Dennis did for violating terms.”

“That seems a bit extreme considering what they’re going to allow to happen to us after midnight,” I muttered, turning mygaze out the window, the trees whipping by in a blur of orange and gold.

“It’s hypocritical, but they make the rules.” Then, “You talked to Ashton?”

“Yeah,” I said, still looking out the window. He didn’t press for more details, so I wasn’t going to offer any.

The truck bounced as he navigated a dip in the path, trees closing in on either side, their branches weaving a canopy overhead. Sunlight filtered through in thin, golden beams, casting shifting patterns over the dashboard. Ryder took another turn, the tires crunching over gravel, then dipped onto a narrow dirt path. The trees loomed closer, their branches knitting together above us like a tunnel. The scent of damp earth drifted into the cab, grounding and sharp.

A few more turns and we finally rolled to a stop in a small clearing. The area was mostly empty, only a couple of cars parked at the edge. A narrow trailhead that led down toward the lake.

Ryder cut the engine and climbed out, coming around to open my door before I could even reach for the handle. I hopped out, glancing around at the familiar spot where we used to leave our bikes before trekking down to the water. Leaves crunched beneath my shoes, the air crisp with the scent of pine and the lake.

“What do you need me to carry?”

Ryder leaned into the back seat, grabbing the basket and the flannel blanket, both stacked neatly.

“Nothing but yourself.” He closed the door with his hip. “I’ve got everything.”

I grabbed my drink and followed him down the trail. The trees thinned as the lake came into view. The water was calm, the surface glassy and still, mirroring the flame-colored trees thatcircled it. The pier stretched out like a worn, wooden tongue, the boards creaking under our feet as we stepped onto it.

Ryder moved ahead of me, the basket swinging from one hand, the flannel blanket tucked under his arm. Without a word, he dropped the blanket at the end of the pier, spreading it out with an easy, practiced grace. The lake lapped gently against the wooden posts, a soft, rhythmic sound that felt almost like a lullaby.

I kicked off my shoes, letting the cool wood press against my sock-covered feet before I settled down on the blanket and sipped my drink. My legs dangled over the edge, a few inches above the water. Ryder set the basket down beside me, then dropped onto the blanket, leaning back on his hands, his gaze fixed on the water. I glanced over at him, at the way the light caught in his eyes, how the sun outlined his jaw in a soft, golden glow. He looked so at ease, so calm, like he’d left every thought and shadow behind the second we stepped onto the pier.

After a minute, he reached into the basket, his hand disappearing beneath the napkins and tucked-away containers. When he pulled it back, he held a warm chocolate muffin wrapped in a soft linen cloth. The scent of rich cocoa and melted chocolate hit me first, warm and decadent, and my stomach rumbled in response.

“Thought you might need this,” he teased, holding it out to me, a small grin playing at the corner of his mouth.

I placed my drink beside me and took it, my fingers brushing his, the brief contact sending a shiver through me.

The muffin was warm in my palm, the heat seeping through the cloth, the scent wrapping around me like a hug. “You know me too well.”

His eyes held mine, clear and steady, the grin softening into something that felt too big to look at straight on.

“Like the back of my hand,” he murmured.

I swallowed, looking away, focusing on the water again as it lapped against the pier, the world quiet and still. I took a small bite, the chocolate melting against my tongue, warm and sweet and dangerous in its comfort.

“You’re not eating anything?”

He shook his head. “I have to pace myself today, and we’ve still got brunch.”

I frowned at my muffin.

“You eat,” he ordered, voice low and edged in that dark finality that left no room for argument. His eyes dragged over me slowly, like he was memorizing every dip and curve all over again. “Don’t even think about that weight bullshit,” he went on, softer but no less sharp. “I have seen every inch of you now and you’re perfect. I want you exactly as you are. You could gain ten, twenty pounds and I would still think you’re beautiful.”

My face warmed, and I took another bite, happily.

“What did Ashton say?” he asked once I had nearly finished off the muffin and my drink.

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