Page 122 of Almost Ours
I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, lingering for a second longer than necessary. She tilted her head, her gaze meeting mine–soft, searching, full of something I couldn’t quite put into words. I smiled down at her, and after a moment, she sighed–a quiet release of tension–before resting her head on my shoulder.
It was a quiet moment, but it spoke volumes.
The peace didn’t last long, though, because Nina returned, her sharp wit in full force. “Great,” she announced, hands on her hips. “I leave for two minutes and now I have to sit next tohim?” She jabbed her thumb toward Shane, who smirked like he’d been waiting for this exact opportunity.
“You’re welcome,” Shane said, leaning back with exaggerated confidence. “Your night just got better.”
“Better?” Nina snorted. “Try unbearable.” She slid into the booth with a dramatic sigh. “Do you even know how to hold a normal conversation, or is it just flirting and bad jokes?”
“I'm versatile,” Shane quipped, his grin widening. “And you keep coming back, so I must be doing something right.”
The ridiculous banter filled the space, easy and familiar. And then–Harper laughed. It was soft at first, but then it grew into something real and warm–a genuine sound that made my chest ache in the best way. I glanced down at her, and she smiled up at me, as if to say,I’m okay.
I wanted to press, to ask her if she was really okay, but I knew this wasn’t the time or place. For now, having her this close was enough.
The pub was startingto empty out, the buzz of conversation fading as people trickled toward the exit. Ryan turned to me, his easygoing expression masking a flicker of concern.
“Want me to give you a ride home?”
I hesitated, glancing toward the bar where Nina was deep in conversation with Shane. I’d come with her tonight, but she seemed perfectly content to stay, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hang around waiting.
“Yeah, that’d be great,” I finally said, sliding off the booth.
As Ryan and I stepped out into the chilly night, a quiet sense of contentment settled over me–the kind that came from simply being with him. His presence wrapped around me like something steady and unshakable, a warmth I hadn’t realized I needed.
Ryan opened the passenger door for me, and I climbed in, mumbling a quiet, “Thanks.”
The drive home was quiet, the hum of the tires on the pavement and the low murmur of music playing from the truck’s speakers filling the silence. But my thoughts were louder than all of it–swirling, tangled, relentless.
That guy at the pub still had me shaken. His touch had been familiar in a way that made my skin crawl, like a ghost reaching out from a past I thought I’d left behind.
It wasn’t the first time a guy had acted like that around me. Tonight, it felt different, though.
My pulse had spiked, my body reacting before my mind even caught up–an instinct, a reflex. Like I was back in that place, in that time. Back with Reid.
He would’ve done worse. A hand on my arm wouldn’t have been the end of it. Reid would’ve grabbed, shoved–maybe even hit. The thought made my stomach churn. The memory. The fear. The helplessness. It all pressed in at once, a weight I wasn’t ready to carry again.
But Ryan… Ryan wasn’t Reid.
He hadn’t stormed over, hadn’t thrown a punch, even though I knew he wanted to. He’d let the guy’s actions speak for themselves. He’d stayed beside me. He’d given me space, even when every part of him had probably been screaming to do something, anything, to make it stop.
I appreciated that more than I could ever explain.
The seat shifted beneath me as I stole a glance at Ryan. His eyes were on the road, hands relaxed on the wheel. He hadn’t pushed for details, hadn’t demanded answers when he saw how I froze up, how I pulled away. He knew something was wrong. But he didn’t press.
Part of me wanted to tell him everything. To lay it all out. To let him see the full weight of the scars Reid had left behind.
I didn’t know how, though. Or maybe I was just afraid of what that might do to us.
“Everything okay?” Ryan’s voice cut through my thoughts, gentle yet threaded with concern.
I blinked, dragging myself back to the present. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said quickly–too quickly. The words felt thin, unconvincing, even to me. “Just thinking.”
His eyes flicked toward me, brief but searching. “You sure?” His hand stayed steady on the wheel, that familiar softness still there–the kind he always seemed to have when he looked at me.
“I’m okay,” I repeated, firmer this time, as if saying it with more conviction might make it true.
Ryan didn’t push. He just reached over, his fingers wrapping around mine, grounding me in the quiet between us. The warmth of his hand settled something frayed inside me, even if it didn’t completely untangle it.
