Page 227 of Ride Me Three Times

Ryder looks back out over town.

“He took a shot at her because she matters. Because he knew it would get under your skin and Finn’s and mine.” I pause. “That blame doesn’t belong to one man.”

His hand tightens on the railing.

Maybe he hears me.

Maybe he doesn’t.

So I say the part I know he won’t say for himself. “She’s breathing because you went through that door.”

Still nothing.

Then, quieter, because the truth usually lands better when you don’t dress it up:

“She came home because of all of us. But you still went through first.”

Ryder exhales through his nose.

“I looked at her in there,” he says, “and all I could think was that I should’ve kept her farther away from us.”

That tracks. It also tells me exactly where the crack is.

I nod toward the door behind us, toward the muffled noise inside. “You think she’d thank you for that?”

A humorless breath almost leaves him. “She’d be safer.”

“Maybe.”

He cuts me a look.

I let that sit for a second before continuing.

“She’d also be alone.”

Inside, Finn’s laugh breaks loudly through the door, followed by Aurora telling him he’s banned from naming cocktails for at least a week. There’s life in it. Real life. Annoyed. Warm. Hers.

Ryder hears it too.

His shoulders shift by a fraction.

I straighten off the railing.

“You can carry guilt,” I say. “That’s your hobby.” He gives me a flat look, and I continue before he can waste it. “But don’t confuse it with devotion.”

That one lands deeper.

Good.

Because someone has to say it.

“You want to protect her?” I ask. “Then protect her. Don’t turn yourself into a ghost standing five feet outside your own life.”

Ryder’s voice, when it comes, is quieter. “I don’t know how to do this without hurting her.”

“Then learn.”

He doesn’t answer.