Does it make me weak? That I feel safe in the arms of a man I’ve only known for such a short amount of time?
Or does it make me strong, being able to give myself, my heart, and my soul, over to a rugged stranger after only one day together?
It doesn’t matter, because when Ryder carries me out of the house, with the afternoon wind whipping my hair, I cling to his neck, inhaling his strength and his courage.
I know it doesn’t matter who thinks I’m weak or who thinks I’m strong.
All that matters right now, is us.
Him and me and our hearts pounding in perfect harmony.
“I was so fucking scared something happened to you,” Ryder says. We cross the front lawn, heading down a hill into a secluded area. “I mean, I know something did happen to you. That’s not what I meant ––”
“I know what you meant. And I know what you mean. I’m so glad Luther didn’t…” I can’t finish the sentence because tears flood my eyes and I sob into his chest.
I should have trusted Ryder.
Now I know. Now I always will.
“The police will be busy with Luther for a while,” Ryder says stopping under a big tree; its heavy branches filtering the light. “I thought you could use a minute to breathe. To calm down before we go to the station, before you decide what you want to do... with me... with all of this. I’m sure your parents are worried.”
I look around, expecting him to set me down. But instead, he looks up. I follow his gaze and see where he has brought me. “A tree house?”
“Built it with my dad when I was a kid. You want to go up?” he asks.
I bite my bottom lip, knowing that I’m wearing nothing but panties and Ryder’s oversized coat. Knowing that if I climb that ladder I won’t just be calming down. I will be asking him to forgive me.
But I vow to ask him very nicely.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, carrying me to the base of the tree.
With my foot on the bottom rung, I answer. “I’m thinking about how I can thank you for rescuing me.”
When we get to the top of the tree house it is sparse, with a cot, a pile of books, and collected arrowheads on a table; there’s a lantern on the floor. I turn, expecting to see Ryder with a smile, or at least with a hungry look in his eyes.
But his face looks worn, beaten, bruised. He looks sad, humbled. Lost.
“I don’t deserve your thanks, Justine. I fucking put you in this position. I should have gone to that auction like a real fucking man and bid on you. If I’d done that, I could have saved you from this mess.”
I shake my head. “But if it had happened like that, I don’t know if I would have fallen for you. There’s something about being locked in the woods; about being kidnapped by a stranger...”
“Is that what this is?” he asks, stepping toward me. “Stockholm Syndrome? Falling for your captor?” He runs his hand over his beard, and I shake my head, knowing it isn’t that at all.
“Maybe you were my captor but not anymore.” I lower my chin and lift my eyes. “Now I am free to do what I like.”
Ryder meets my gaze. He may feel responsible, but I have forgiven him. After meeting Luther, I know he did what he did because he had my best interests in mind.
“You’re too fucking good for me, Justine. I moved to the woods, doing everything I could to get away from the bullshit, but you aren’t running, you are fighting for what you believe in.”
“Don’t you help with your mom’s organization?”
“I don’t even show up to the meetings, even though I sit on the board. It hurt too much to be a part of her world after she died. So, I left it.”
“Who says you have to leave it behind forever?” I ask, stepping toward him. “You can always go back. Make a different choice.”
He runs a hand over my hair, pulling me toward him at the waist. His voice is low, his words sincere. “You fight for what you believe in Justine. You auctioned your virginity to raise money for a cause that mattered. How did you become so good?”
I shake my head. “I may have had good intentions, but I’m a fool, Ryder. I was warned that this auction could bite me in the ass, but I didn’t really understand what I was selling. How intimate giving my body to another person really is.”
I close my eyes as his hand runs up my back, holding the base of my neck, drawing my mouth to his. “I’m so grateful you kidnapped me,” I whisper.
“We can lie on the cot together,” he tells me. “Let me hold you in my arms. I know you’ve been through so much back at the house.”