CHAPTER 29

T he drive to Boise was supposed to be a nine-hour drive. I did it in a fuming eight. We made no stops, and Ryder slept the entire way, passed out like no other in the front seat. It was for the fucking best because I was rearing to fight. I was so fucking mad. At him.

If he woke the fuck up before we got to Boise, I was pulling over to the side of the road and having it out with him. The fucking moron tried to sacrifice himself and for what? To kill a few fucking sirens? There was no way we could’ve gotten him the medical help he needed if he’d been trapped in that goddamn greenhouse. He would’ve died.

Just the fucking thought of that was devastating. And he was ready for it. I thought we were fucking past this shit. Nine years together and I thought we were past this fucking shit.

Apparently, we weren’t.

I left him in the car as I checked us into the first fucking motel I found on the outskirts of Boise. It was shady as fuck and questionably run, but I didn’t care. I just needed somewhere to stash Ryder while I walked off the anger.

Which was exactly what I planned to do.

“Take a fuckin’ shower and go to bed,” I ordered while I tossed our bags on the crappy floor, not caring where they landed. “I’ll be back.”

“Where are you—”

“Save your fuckin’ voice,” I snapped, cutting him off. That goddamn rasp in his voice scraped against my heart every time he spoke. His neck was colored in violent shades of red and purple. It sounded somewhat better if I was being honest, but I still hated it. “Get in the damn shower and go to bed. I’ll be back.”

His hands fell to his hips as he considered me. I knew he was being careful with his response. I wasn’t fucking stupid. I knew he could feel just how pissed off I was. Ryder and I didn’t have real fights—not really. The handful we’d had over the years always ended in one of us leaving for a while.

This time I wasn’t fucking leaving, and there was no way in hell I’d let him leave. I just needed to cool my fucking head for a while.

“When?” Ryder asked quietly.

“A few hours maybe,” I said and stormed out before I changed my fucking mind. The part of me that wanted to fight… it wanted to go to war. Just to reiterate my point, I waved wildly to the bathroom. “Get your ass in there and fuckin’ shower. You look like shit, and you need some fuckin’ sleep.”

“Okay,” he whispered. Whether or not he’d do any of those things, I didn’t know. I just stormed out of the motel without a fucking word.

I walked.

And walked.

And walked some fucking more.

The light breeze on my face was a godsend. With every pass over my skin, my bad mood slipped away. Worry and fear replaced it as the realization of how fucking close I’d gotten to losing Ryder .

What the hell did my life look like without him in it? My stomach rolled as that thought and a million different scenarios tumbled through my head. I didn’t want to even fucking think about that.

Maybe that notion was why I ended up in some dinky pawn shop staring at wedding rings. Why the fuck was I looking at rings? I didn’t have a clue. Not really. I wasn’t sure marriage and the whole real domestic shit would be an option in our future but that dream? Fuck, the idea of it was nice.

“Looking for anything in particular?” The pawn shop owner barely gave me the time of day as I leaned against the glass case. Not that I blamed him, considering the number of cameras he had hooked up in the place.

“Rings,” I told him. Obviously. I glanced down at my left hand, running my thumb over my finger. What size was Ryder anyway? We sort of had the same size hands. His was bigger by maybe a little. “I ain’t got a clue what size though.”

The owner made a sound and didn’t move.

“You serious about buying?” he demanded. Yeah, the guy didn’t want to waste his time with some no one who didn’t want to buy. I couldn’t fault him for that one.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

The fucking guy sighed like I was the biggest inconvenience to him. Maybe I was. Again, I didn’t care.

“Let’s see what we can find you.” He flipped through his keys until he found the right one to open the case and began laying out rings in front of me. “Try these on. Once you know a size, we’ll figure out a ring.”

I did as he asked— was this how this shit worked? How did people figure out fucking ring sizes without taking the person in? Six rings later I had a maybe size—a probably too fucking big size but whatever. It’d have to do.

The owner laid out every fucking ring he had in that size. There were so many damn rings to pick from. The stupid shit people inscribed on their rings was a damn good sorting method. Dumb as fuck shit.

One ring literally fucking read, Never To Fart. Why? Who thought that was a good idea to put on a wedding ring ?

I kept plucking up rings, reading, and giving them back because no fucking way would I ever give Ryder some of the stupid things written on them—even if they’d make him laugh.

I picked up a scuffed-up silver ring. It wasn’t anything special with its wear and tear. I turned it between my fingers while I squinted at the worn-down inscription.

Forever My Always.

That was something I could see myself giving Ryder.

“Yeah, that’s perfect.” I smiled slightly. “I’ll take it.”