Page 124 of Almost Ours
I hesitated, my fingers tracing an absent pattern on the couch cushion. I couldn’t look at Ryan, so I fixed my gaze on a photo of Connor on the wall.
“He came storming into the kitchen.” I closed my eyes, taking a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. “He grabbed me, forced me to turn around, and started yelling about how ungrateful I was.”
My throat tightened, but I pushed forward, my heart pounding. “Then, his hand went to my throat before I even realized what was happening. And he squeezed. So hard. I thought I was going to die, Ryan. I really did.”
I finally looked at him, my eyes brimming with tears. Ryan’s jaw was clenched, his hands curling into fists on his lap, still, he stayed silent, his gaze intense yet unwavering. “I couldn’t breathe. All I could think about was Connor. That if Reid killed me, Connor would be left with him.”
I exhaled shakily, brushing a tear from my cheek. “And then I heard this… this crack. Reid’s hands were no longer around my throat. I turned and saw Connor standing there, holding a frying pan. He was trembling so hard, he could barely hold it, but he did it. He saved me.”
Ryan’s face softened. His fists unclenched, though I could still see the conflict in his eyes–rage simmering under the surface, tempered by an overwhelming tenderness for me. For Connor.
I squeezed my eyes shut again, the memory as sharp and painful as the night it happened. “That was the moment I knew I couldn’t stay. I grabbed our bags, grabbed Connor, and we ran.”
I wiped at my cheeks, realizing for the first time that I was crying, “We’ve only been here for a few months, and for the first time in a long time, I feel safe. But I can’t stop looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to show up and ruin everything.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. I felt exposed, like I’d just peeled back layers I’d spent years building up. And for a moment, I was terrified he might see all the broken pieces I wasn’t sure I could ever fix.
Ryan didn’t say anything at first. He just stood, his expression unreadable, and before I could question him, he crossed the small space between us.
“Come here,” he said softly, his voice a quiet command, not leaving room for protest.
I opened my mouth to object, but before I could speak, he was already leaning down, sliding one arm under my legs and the other around my back. In one swift, fluid motion, he scooped me up from the armchair.
“Ryan!” I gasped, instinctively clutching his shoulder, my heart racing in my chest.
He smirked–something soft and tender, with an unspoken understanding behind it–and carried me the few steps to the couch, settling down with me cradled against him. His arms tightened around me briefly as he adjusted, ensuring I was tucked safely against his side, my legs draped over his lap.
“There,” he said, his voice light, a quiet reassurance woven through the words. “Much better.”
I let out a shaky laugh, the sound trembling in the quiet room, but his warmth, his steady presence, grounded me in a way nothing else had tonight. Slowly, the tension drained from my body, and I let myself relax, resting my head against his chest.
Ryan’s hand found its way to my hair, his fingers threading through the strands with gentle care. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head, and the simple gesture made my chest tighten, emotions swirling faster than I could keep up with.
“Harper,” his voice was soft but firm, carrying the weight of something deeper. “You are the strongest person I’ve ever met. What you’ve been through… it's unimaginable. But you did the hardest thing anyone could do–you walked away. You protected Connor. And you’ve built a life for the two of you. That’s not just strength. That’s bravery.”
My throat tightened, a lump forming as I tried to swallow past the rush of emotions. I didn’t respond, my chest aching as I fought back the tears.
“It’s not your fault that your family and friends gave up on you,” Ryan’s voice was low, a quiet rage simmering just beneath the surface. “It’s theirs. You were in an impossible situation, and instead of staying by your side, they bailed. If only they could see you now.”
His words hit me like a wave, and I blinked, caught off guard by the intensity of his voice. He was angry, but the anger wasn’t directed at me–it was for me.
“The life you’re giving Connor…” he continued, his tone softening though carrying the same weight of conviction. “You’re building something incredible out of nothing. You got him out, Harper. You kept him safe. Look at the kid he’s smart, kind, respectful, brave. That’s all because of you. You’re the reason for that. Not Reid, not anyone else. You.”
I looked down at my hands, twisting them together on my lap to ground myself, but his voice pulled me back to him.
“They don’t deserve to see this version of you,” Ryan said, his gaze steady, unwavering. “They don’t get to take credit for the woman you’ve become, for everything you’ve done and continue to do. I do wish they could see it, though. Just for a second. See how wrong they were to give up on you.”
The tears came then, silent and unbidden, falling freely down my cheeks. His words cut through the layers of guilt and shame I had carried for so long, carving out space for something I hadn’t felt in years: pride.
I looked up at him, startled by the intensity in his gaze. His eyes were soft, but there was something deeper there–something raw and real, as if he was holding me together with his words, piece by piece.
I sat up straighter, and Ryan’s hold on me tightened, his warmth anchoring me as his voice dropped, low and intense, cutting through the stillness of the room. “Harper,” he began, “if Reid ever shows up–if he ever tries to come near you or Connor–I need you to understand something.”
His hand slid up to cradle the back of my head, his fingers gently pressing against the nape of my neck. His eyes locked onto mine with an unshakable resolve. “I won’t just stand by. I would do whatever it takes–whatever–to keep you both safe. No one, not him, not anyone, is ever going to hurt you again. Not while I’m here.”
My breath caught in my throat, the weight of his words crashing over me. There was no hesitation, no wavering in his voice. It was a promise–one that came from a place so fiercely protective it almost scared me.
I swallowed hard, my fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as I searched his face for any sign that this might be too much. But there was nothing–just raw sincerity.
