Only When It's Us (Bergman Brothers #1)(102)

Her words sink in. Old Willa would have never made it to this night with Ryder to hear that affirmation. She’d never be here, nodding, conceding how damn vulnerable loving him is, how open to heartache welcoming him deeper and deeper into her life has and will continue to make her. But New Willa, with over a year’s worth of counseling, including several joint sessions with her boyfriend to work on building deeper trust and better communication, sits here, knowing that this scary, bottoming-out feeling in her stomach isn’t something to fear—it’s a measure of the depth of her love.

I take a slow breath and swirl my wine, focusing on the waves of liquid. “Thank you for saying you believe in us.”

Elin’s smile is gentle as her hand softly squeezes mine again. “I hope I didn’t overstep. I want to encourage you, and yet I know I’m not your mother, and I never can replace her. But I am seven people’s mama, and my arms are always open. My heart, too.”

Meeting her smile, I squeeze her hand back. “Thank you.”

“Hi, Sunshine.” Ryder steps onto the porch, bending and kissing me immediately. It’s as exciting as it is familiar, the way it always starts as an innocent press of lips and then opens to a gentle taste, a quiet reminder that want and hunger are never far away for him.

“Hi yourself,” I say.

He straightens, squeezing my shoulder before he leans and kisses his mom’s cheek. Plopping between us in a chair, Ryder riffles through the smorgasbord, pulling a few nuts, some dried fruit, and a hard salami slice into his palm. Elin’s eyes meet mine over his head and I nod.

She stands and pats Ryder’s back. “I’m going to go help your father sort out the food you two picked up. I’ll be back in a little.”

Ryder’s halfway standing. “You don’t have to, Mom. I said I’d help Dad cook—”

“No.” Elin presses him back in his seat. “I want a little time with him. He’s been working a lot the past few days. You two relax. It’s your celebration, remember, s?tnos?”

Ryder’s brows pinch. “Okay?”

Elin gives me a wink and disappears inside. The moment she’s gone, Ryder scooches his chair closer and sets a hand high on my thigh. His eyes are on me, traveling my body.

“It looks even better on you than I thought it would, Willa.”

I grin. Ryder surprised me with the dress I’m wearing. It’s saffron yellow wrap style, not unlike the infamous shirt, with a sash at the waist as red as the napkin dress. I uncross, then switch my legs as Ryder’s eyes darken.

“So, my lumberjack. What took so long? Did you and Papa B decide to fetch dinner from the river again? Slay any black bears or mountain lions on your way home?”

Ryder gives me a look as he pops more food in his mouth and crunches. “I didn’t hear you complaining about my mountain manliness when you got us lost on that hike and I was able to navigate us back to the A-frame using the night stars.”

I lob a cranberry at him which successfully drops down the front of his flannel. I raise a celebratory fist. “I did not get us lost. Getting lost would imply I knew where I was going in the first place.”

Ryder snorts. “Fair. Hey, you have something—” He points to a spot over his sternum, mirroring where this alleged substance is on my body. “Right there.”

“Sure. Never heard that one before.” I refuse to glance down at my chest and get my nose bopped. Since we’re not into severely torturing each other like we used to, we’re reduced to harmless pranks like this that usually lead to making out and sex. Neither sex nor making out are happening right now, so I’m not taking the bait.

“I’m serious, Sunshine. It’s fig jam, and it’s about to drip onto your new dress.”

“Nope.”

Ryder sighs and glances over to the glass doors, peering at the kitchen where his parents are. “Fine,” he grumbles.

I open my mouth to say something smart, but a gasp leaps out as he bends and his warm tongue slides along the swell of my breast. A tiny bite makes my thighs clamp together.

Ryder straightens and kisses me. “Stubborn woman,” he mutters against my lips. I taste him. Warm, decadent Ryder. And…fig jam.

“Dammit.”

He shrugs and smiles as he sits back. “Sometimes I’m not fucking with you, Sunshine. Sometimes.”

I stare at him and feel my grinch heart grow bigger and bigger. It’s almost like it’s not even a grinch heart anymore, no frigid, rigid corners. Just a wide-open, safe, loved space. “Ryder.”

“Hm?”

I interlace my fingers with his where they rest on my thigh, and take a long slow breath. “We need to talk about something.”

Worry tightens his features. “Is everything okay?”

“Mhmm.” I swallow emotion thickening my throat and blink away threatening tears.

He leans forward to gentle my cheek. “Then why are you crying?”

“I’m not,” I whisper hoarsely.

A soft smile breaks across his face. “Sunshine, what is it?”

Clearing my throat, I reach behind me, inside my bag. There’s a manila envelope, tied tight at the top. I set it on the table and slide it toward Ryder.

Ryder stares at it, his hand falling from my face.

“What is this, Willa?”