My heart leaps to my throat at the sight of Ryder filling the doorway.
His chest heaves, his blue eyes large and intense and ensnaring me. He’s marching through the room before I can summon a clear thought.
“Jonathan!” Becca’s voice travels up the stairway. “Don’t! Just let her go—”
Ryder’s almost to me when my father enters the room, rage fueling his hurried movements. “Don’t go near her,” he warns Ryder. “I’ll make it so you’ll never play football again.”
Ryder smiles down at me and says, “Sir, that’s hardly a threat.” Then he reaches down and scoops me into his strong arms. Lifting me easily, he cradles me against his chest, like I weigh nothing at all. Which, appallingly, I suppose is true.
“Are you okay?” he asks. The hard knot of his neck moves down as he swallows.
I nod, my voice lost. Shock has chased away all words and logic. I forget about my father in the room until he says, “I’ve dialed the cops.”
My gaze swings to him. My mouth opens to plead, but Becca has my father’s phone and ends the call before I can speak.
“This has gone on long enough,” she says, her hands shaking. “Ari’s my daughter, too. I’ve raised her, Jonathan. And if you remember correctly, my father wasn’t all that thrilled about the prospect of our marriage.” She glares at him.
My father’s jaw tenses. “She’s just a child!” he shouts. “She has no idea the damage she’s causing to her life. What she’s sacrificing…” He trails off, and Becca moves to his side and grasps his hand.
Ryder uses the quick reprieve in tension to move us closer to the door. “Hold on, baby,” he whispers to me. “I’ve got you.”
A solid lump hitches in my throat, and I swallow past the ache. He’s here. He’s got me. So tired, so weak, I let my head fall to his shoulder and inhale his scent. Let the strength of it wrap around me, like his arms securing me to him.
Then, with a flare of panic, I realize: “The championship. Ryder, you can’t be here—”
“Shh,” he says. “Every protagonist has to make a choice, right?” He looks down at me, his lips spreading into a beautiful smile. “As long as they can justify their motivation.”
My heart stutters in my chest. “Every hero,” I correct. Our eyes meet, and I link my arm around his neck. “And you can justify giving up the championship?”
“I didn’t even have to think twice.”
We’re stopped at the door, my father barricading our exit. “Ari, you’re sick and need your family. I was wrong for sending you to that school as a…punishment,” he bites out. “I was wrong. I can admit that. But rebelling against me will only hurt you further.”
I’m not unmotivated by my father’s admission that he’s wrong; I know his ego made that difficult for him. And I don’t hate my father. In his mind, he’s protecting me the only way he knows how—trying to help me and make sure I’m taken care of. The guilt festering inside me right now as I meet his frantic eyes almost makes me question what I’m about to do.
Almost.
But it’s not enough. At some point, I have to make the decision whether or not I’m going to live my own life. Or if I’m going to bow out of life altogether. Ryder pulls me tighter to him, giving me the strength I need to voice my next words.
“Dad, I love you. But I’m not my mother.” His face contorts with shock and hurt. The sight of it nearly makes me withdraw, but I forge ahead through the discomfort of feelings never expressed. “I can make you proud as a Wyndemere and lead my own life. But if you make it a choice, an ultimatum, I’m going to choose me.” I raise my chin. “I have to.”
“You’re making a mistake, young lady,” he says, his last attempt to sway me with fear. Only I now realize it’s his own fear he’s trying to deflect on me. It always has been.
“I don’t think I am making a mistake.” I slip Lucas’s engagement ring off my finger easily and hold it out toward Becca. She presses her lips into a tight, heartened smile as she accepts it. “Tell Lucas I’m sorry. But I think he’ll understand.”
Ryder steps forward, but my father doesn’t budge, keeping the doorway blocked. “Sir, I believe your daughter has said all she’s willing to, and she needs a doctor.” He shifts me higher against his chest. “I’m not a violent person, but I’ll do whatever it takes to get her there. No one’s preventing that. Not even you, sir. Move.” He stresses this last part, and my father blinks on a flinch.
He moves aside. As we pass through, Becca says, “Jonathan, alert Markus that we need the car. We’re following them to the hospital.”
I only hear my father’s affirmation as Ryder carries me down the stairs. The tension binding me suddenly releases my body, and I sigh with relief into his neck, having missed this spot that’s all mine.
I haven’t lost him. Although I nearly lost myself, he found me.
“I might be cut off,” I say as Ryder opens the passenger-side door of his Jeep. He gently places me in the seat, and I look up at him. “You think Braxton has a late admission for an academic scholarship?”
Running his hand over my hair, he pushes my bangs back and places a soft kiss to my forehead. “You’re the most brilliant and surprisingly stubborn person I know.” He straightens and looks down at me. “They’d be morons not to accept you. Besides, your father isn’t the only one with any pull there.”
Shakily, I smile. I can’t bring myself to tell him that he might not have any pull l