Chapter Seven: Amen

Gia

AMEN

Performed by Alana Springsteen

Despite having graduated summa cum laudefrom college and being commended multiple times for keeping my wits about me on the job, I felt like an idiot as Addy and I followed Ryder to his home. Staying with him was a bad idea. An epically bad idea.

The way my body had sparked and burned at our simple handshake was proof.

I glanced at Addy in her booster seat in the back. She was staring out the window at idyllic views of cows and horses roaming over white-fenced fields. What would it be like for her to grow up here? Learning to ride horses, playing in the lake on hot, humid summer days, surrounded by a family who loved each other enough to stay rather than leave.

My family loved each other and would be there in a flash if one of us needed something, but my brother and I had followed in our father’s footsteps by putting our country before our relationships. As adults, we rarely saw each other, and we definitely didn’t know how to stay.

Except, my parents had now lived in Virginia for longer than they’d lived anywhere in their marriage. After moving three times during my last three years of high school, Mom had finally reached a breaking point, and Dad swore he’d retire before he’d move again. Mom had finally been able to watch the gardens she put her heart into mature and bloom just like she’d designed. She’d found friends and kept them, whereas I had done the opposite.

We’d moved so many times growing up that I’d seen friends as temporary fixtures, toys that got switched out as you outgrew them. And during my high school years, being the new face each fall had been pure torture. I’d been the geeky loner with a love of spy novels and movies that had neared obsession territory.

We blew past the driveway to Hatley Ranch and the stone pillars holding a carved wrought iron masterpiece with the name of the ranch twirled below the silhouette of a bucking bronco. While I’d known Ryder didn’t live on the main grounds of the ranch, I’d never gotten to his place last year. After he’d found me snooping in his office, it would have completely blown my cover if I’d shown up at his house too.

Ryder’s turn signal blinked just before he pulled down a gravel drive tucked between several tall, southern magnolias that would bloom in a few weeks. The road wound through more thick foliage, including several live oak trees with enormous limbs crawling along the ground like octopus arms. A rustic, red covered bridge only large enough for a single vehicle to cross at a time covered the creek and led to a slight rise on the other side.

When the house finally came into view, shock roared through me.

The research I’d done on the family before I’d ever set foot in Willow Creek had uncovered that he’d designed and built the house himself. He’d gone to college to be an architect but had dropped out to come home and help the failing ranch. So, while I knew he’d built the house, I’d expected it to be something more along the lines of the family’s two-story farmhouse or a rustic log cabin and not the glass marvel standing in front of me.

The entire building was made primarily of windows with hints of sleek pine and river rock peeking out. The slant of the roof echoed the slope of the mountains beyond it before dropping off and giving way to tranquil valley views of not just the Hatley land but also the lake in the distance.

It was art in the form of a building. It was breathtaking.

The grumpy cowboy had created this from nothing more than his imagination and the land. What did that say about him?

My heart was slamming weirdly in my chest as we followed the curve of the driveway to the side of the house where a three-car garage was attached to the main structure by a glass breezeway.

All three doors rolled up at the same time, and Ryder drove the pickup into the first bay. In the second slot was an old-school muscle car my brother would drool over, and the third was empty. It was perhaps the cleanest garage I’d ever seen. No shelves of sports equipment or yard tools. Several large, standing toolboxes that looked almost brand new were scattered amongst sleek cupboards that blended in with the walls. Nothing was out of place, and everything was sparkling clean.

Ryder slid out of the truck and waved me into the last slot.

I pulled in, trying to gather my wits.

Ryder opened the back passenger door for Addy as I climbed out. The two of them stared at each other as if taking each other’s measure. I popped the Escalade’s tailgate, pulled out a small duffel I used as my go-bag, and joined them.

Addy unlatched her buckle and went to grab the backpack right as Ryder did. Their hands collided, and the little girl jerked away as if burned. A shadow of concern flickered over Ryder’s face.

He slung the backpack over his shoulder and offered Addy his hand.

She didn’t take it.

He backed up, cleared his throat, and said, “Come on in, and we’ll get you settled.”

Addy jumped to the ground and looked at me with wide, nervous eyes.

“It’s okay,” I said in Spanish. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Ryder hit a button on the wall to close the garage doors and then led us into the glass breezeway. The ceiling was made of pine planks, glimmering with gold and lacquered until it was almost as shiny as the glass itself. Large slabs of slate beneath our feet mimicked the stone of the mountains.

Addy’s hand slid into mine, and I looked down at her. She was as overwhelmed by the place as I was.

Ryder unlocked a second door and waved us through. We entered a mudroom of sorts where he hung his hat. His hair was barely mussed beneath it, but he still ran a hand through it, and I sensed he was as nervous as the rest of us.

The mudroom opened into a kitchen with oversized, professional-looking steel appliances and two walls of glass. The slate floor tiles were repeated on a smaller scale in the backsplash, as if mimicking the boulders visible outside the windows. The vaulted pine ceiling rose like trees to where whispers of blue sky and puffy clouds danced across the largest skylights I’d ever seen in a home. A long counter of shiny wood divided the kitchen from a living area reached via two stone steps.

The entire house felt as if the outdoors had grown into it, or vice versa. A seamless blending of nature and home that was only accentuated by the earth tones of the leather furniture and the large tree trunk coffee table.

No art hung on any of the handful of walls that weren’t glass. The house didn’t need it. The view was clearly intended to be the primary decoration.

“Holy sh—cow.” The words finally slipped out of me as I stared out at the valley from what felt like the treetops.

Addy squeezed my hand, and we both turned our heads in Ryder’s direction.

He was standing on another pair of stone steps leading toward the foyer with its large double doors of glass and wrought iron gleaming behind him. That nervousness I’d witnessed in the mudroom seemed to have grown. I’d seen him growly. Snarly. Angry. But not uncertain. And it pricked at something deep inside me that wanted to comfort him. An unwanted softness that I didn’t let into my life often.

Addy and I moved through the room to join him on the steps.

“Where do you watch TV?” I asked.

His lips twitched slightly. “Honestly, I don’t watch much, and if I want to catch a game, it’s usually at the bar, my parents’ place, or Maddox’s. But there is a television in the game room downstairs.”

“Games?” Addy’s ears perked up.

His eyes gentled as he took her in. “It’s one of my niece’s favorite rooms. Let me show you to your bedrooms first, and then I’ll take you there.”

In the entryway, he pointed to a curved staircase going down. “Game room is there.” He went in the opposite direction, climbing four short steps into another hallway. The left side was made of glass, the right of pine walls and doors.

“Half bath,” he said, waving a hand at the first door. “My office,” he explained, pointing to a set of double doors. “Up here is the bedroom wing.”

We mounted another set of short steps that allowed the house to flow with the natural slope of the hillside. He opened the first door, and we walked into a mint-green-and-cream haven larger than my first apartment.

A four-poster bed of wrought iron carved to look like trees was piled with soft linens and butted up against a wall that mimicked moss-covered stone. A dresser, love seat, and writing desk took up the wall across from it. The showcase was once again the windows, where the view was of a grove of ancient live oaks with the sprawling limbs we’d seen along the drive immersed with weeping willows that were still bare. They’d be feathery and green once spring hit, and waking up here would feel like sleeping in a tree house.

“Bathroom and closet are through there.” He pointed to a door and then looked at me. “Should be plenty of towels and bath products, but Sadie’s been in and out this year whenever Mama’s hovering got to be too much, so let me know if you need something.”

Okay, then. This stunning room was mine for the next few days.

I swallowed hard, dropped my duffel on the bed, and then followed Ryder out of the room with Addy still clinging to my hand as if I was the last thing keeping her standing. Or maybe she was stabilizing me. I wasn’t sure which.

Just like I wasn’t sure why Ryder’s carefully crafted home was impacting me so much. It was as if he’d thrown a rock into the sleeping pool of my emotions, and the ripples were slowly expanding, taking over in a way I didn’t like.

The next room over was done in soft blues and cream. The bed had a canopy of lace, and above it, the ceiling was painted like a spring sky. The recessed lighting hit the clouds, making them glow as if from an unseen sun.

“Bathroom and closet again.” Ryder pointed to another door. He looked down at Addy. “My niece, Mila, likes this room best, so I thought you might like it too. She likes waking up to the ducks and geese on the trout pond.” He pointed out the windows to where a small pond sat nestled amongst the trees.

It was as if each room was a picture box showcasing another scene.

Another piece of art assembled from nature.

The man before me had seen it, sculpted it, and then carefully embedded his home into it.

I’d never expected to find an artist under all that flannel and denim.

Ryder put Addy’s backpack down on a tufted blue velvet bench at the foot of the bed, and she eyed it as if she didn’t want to leave it there. I squeezed her hand, and her eyes met mine.

“It’s okay. You’re safe here. Your things are safe here.”

She hesitated before nodding.

“Does she only speak Spanish?” Ryder asked, concern in his voice. I’d almost forgotten I was still using it with her.

I looked from him to Addy. “You speak both English and Spanish, right?”

She stepped closer to me once more but nodded.

Ryder squatted in front of her. “That’s probably good. I don’t know much Spanish. But maybe you can teach me? Your mo—” He winced and changed directions. “I was learning some a long time ago, but I’ve forgotten a lot of it.”

The silence left behind turned awkward. She didn’t trust him because she’d been trained to distrust everyone. The fact that she was clinging to me had much more to do with how I’d found her than an actual belief that I was safe.

“Let’s take in the game room, shall we?” he asked.

She nodded furiously.

We stepped out of the room, and she looked back at the door, eyeing all the ones along the hall and another set of steps leading to another glass breezeway.

“My room’s up there.” He gestured to the stairs. “If you need anything at night, that’s where I’ll be.”

As Addy shifted from foot to foot, Ryder looked at me, and I saw not just nervousness but helplessness on his face. He was lost. He had no idea how to become a father to a seven-year-old. And not just any little girl. One who’d been traumatized, living a life on the outskirts of society. Who knew what she’d seen, even before yesterday?

I didn’t want my heart to soften even more toward him, but it did.

Ryder led us back to the curved staircase and down into a long basement taking up the same amount of space as the kitchen and living area above it. Deep brown leather couches screaming comfort faced a ginormous television built into a wall of teak cabinets. The shelves were packed with entertainment equipment in all varieties, books, and board games. In the far corner of the room was an ancient jukebox and several old-school, free-standing video game units—Pac-Man and Frogger—as well as a pinball machine. A pool table, dart board, and heavily lacquered bar finished up the man-cave dream.

Addy let go of my hand and ran straight for the machines in the corner.

“Play?” she asked, hand waving at the Pac-Man game.

Ryder’s mouth curved upward, lips almost too pretty to be a man’s with a strong M shape at the top tucked inside scruff that was approaching a full beard. It was clipped neat and tight, and I realized suddenly that the facial hair wasn’t just overgrowth he hadn’t shaved but purposeful. Clean lines and curves.

Ryder Hatley wanted the world to think he was a rough-and-tumble cowboy, dressed in worn work clothes and well-used boots, and more interested in crops and cattle than glamour and glitz. But this house, the business he ran, the well-groomed beard…they all screamed precision and control, a planning and artistry that was not in the least bit backwater rancher with his head stuck in the hay.

Ryder strode over to a bowl on the bar, fished a bunch of gold coins from inside it, and then headed for the Pac-Man machine.

He waved at the bowl, saying, “Tokens. If we run out, let me know. I’ll open the machine and get them back out.”

He pushed a coin into the slot, and the machine came alive, music and beeps taking over the room. Addy smiled, but when she moved in front of it, she could barely reach the buttons.

“Hold on,” he said before turning around and heading for a closet just off a hallway. He came back with a step stool he set down for her. Addy climbed on, hit the start button, and then lost herself in the game. A little laugh escaped her as the yellow character almost got caught in a corner. Her hands were fast. Her face alight. It was the most alive I’d seen her since I’d pulled her from under the bed in the hotel room. My heart twisted.

Ryder stepped back, joining me as we watched her play.

When she lost, she put in another coin from the stack of tokens he’d left for her and started again.

“What’s down there?” I asked, chin nodding toward the hallway.

“Unfinished rooms.”

“More bedrooms?” I asked.

He nodded, looking uncomfortable before saying, “Ravyn wanted a large family.”

My pulse skittered again, that same strange, offbeat staccato that had started when we’d pulled up to the house. It was as if I couldn’t find a stable, solid pattern anymore. As if I was perpetually off-kilter here.

“You built the house with her?”

“No. Didn’t have the money back then. We’d drawn up the plans together though. Just dreaming at the time. I made some changes once I had the funds to make it happen, but I kept the extra rooms in case someone else ended up living here and needed the space. They’re unfinished for now.”

“The land belongs to your family, so you wouldn’t sell, right?” I asked.

“No. But someday, Sadie or Gemma might want to settle here. Or Maddox and McK might get tired of living downtown.” He shrugged.

“Where would you go?”

He pushed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and rocked a little back and forth. “We have plenty of land. There’s an old cabin up along the ridgeline.” He pointed across the valley to where the hillside curved upward. “I could fix it up or tear it down, build a two-room place. This is all a bit much for just me.” He looked at Addy as he added, “I had no plans for it ever to be more.”

That little soft spot in my heart grew another notch. I wanted to hate the way he was responsible for spreading it, but the idea that this man would give the home he’d lovingly designed and built to his family, because he didn’t believe he’d ever have his own to fill it, made me unexpectedly sad. He wasn’t like me, who’d never had plans to settle down or have kids. He’d very much had those hopes, and they’d been ripped away. Anna-Ravyn-whoever-she-was had broken him, and the only way you got that broken was if you loved with every piece of you and had it torn away.

I couldn’t imagine the grumpy rancher I’d met loving anyone that much.

And yet, here was the proof. A home that was a work of art built with love in mind.

I didn’t want to be wrong about him any more than I wanted to have anything in common with him. But the solitary life Ryder had chosen was what I’d elected as well. I’d thought my job, my parents, and my brother would be enough. But catching a glimpse into Ryder’s life, absent of anything more, felt unexpectedly lonely. I practically ached at the mere glimpse of it, causing doubts about my choices to whisper through me, and all I could do was shove them aside before they could take purchase and grow into something more.