Only When It's Us (Bergman Brothers #1)(84)

And I voluntarily agreed to this bullshit.

I grumble something noncommittal and stare out the window, looking at my surroundings as we drive south on I-5. It’s Ryder in topography. Evergreens and still waters running deep. It’s intoxicatingly beautiful.

Ryder’s barely touched me since we boarded. Our only physical contact was me falling asleep on his shoulder. To my horror, I drooled extensively. I only know this because when our plane landed roughly and I snorted awake, his entire shoulder was soaked. Ryder seemed unfazed but I wanted to shrivel into my seat with mortification and disappear.

That’s all. No easy hugs, no playing with my hair. No kisses to my forehead when I fall into his chest which is the best target for my frustration with the world. The center console between us in the SUV feels both a mile wide and a millimeter thin. Too much. Not enough.

I’m losing my mind.

“I’m edgy,” I finally manage.

He smirks like a sexy asshole. “Ya think?”

“Are we almost there?”

Ryder nods, checking his mirror before he takes a soft left turn. I stare at him, caught in one of those moments where I find it particularly surreal that I can both see his face and hear his voice. I liked him so much when I had neither of them. How can I resist him now?

“Where the hell are we?”

Ryder grins. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“Not funny.” I smack his arm and bruise my hand. “Jesus, Bergman. You been juicing on me?”

“Do you know me? Juicing is an environmental disgrace. It wastes valuable fibrous contents of fruits and vegetables—Ow!”

I found that special spot beneath his elbow and pinched. “You know what I mean. ’Roids. Juice.”

His throat works as he swallows. I watch his Adam’s apple bob and have to fold my arms across my rock-hard nipples. “Had to do something the past couple of months,” he says.

“What’s that mean?”

Ryder glances at me briefly, before his eyes travel back to the road. “I was worried about you, Sunshine. Kind of went crazy for a couple of weeks. Got drunk daily for a stretch, then realized working out compulsively was a better coping strategy.”

My throat’s a desert. My heart slams in my chest. “Oh.”

Ryder clears his throat and points ahead of him. “That’s it.”

My jaw drops. A breathtaking A-frame greets us as we roll down the gravel path. Floor-to-ceiling glass perches between deep wood beams that triangulate the house. Everything’s either rich brown, dark green, or cerulean blue. Spruce and pines, boundless sky, shining water not far off. A dense patch of woods surrounds the house, only cleared enough for a magnificent waterfront view.

“The property’s private,” Ryder says, throwing the car in park. “You can wander the woods topless, skinny-dip—” His swallow is thick. “It’s yours for the using, I mean.”

I’m flabbergasted. “Ryder, this is crazy nice.”

He shrugs. “Dad invested well for a while and bought it. Wisely paid it off promptly. When the recession hit, he lost most of his investments, but at least this was paid for. The older siblings take turns throughout the year visiting and doing maintenance work. It’s how we earn our use of it.”

“You don’t pay someone to maintain it?”

“No.” He stares analytically at the house like he’s itemizing a to-do list. “That kind of upkeep costs more than my parents can afford.”

I roll my eyes. “You guys seem like you’re fine financially.”

“Well, Sunshine, sometimes looks are deceiving. Yes, Dad’s a doctor, but there’s seven of us, and all but the last two of us have gone to college and racked up tuition costs. Plus, we’ve had some shit come up throughout the years that drained finances pretty quickly.” He looks away to the water and sits back in his seat. His hand drifts reflexively to the external receiver he wears behind his ear. “It’s why this took so long. We had to prove to the insurance company that hearing aids weren’t working, and that meant—”

“You had to suffer with them for a while, to prove how insufficient they were.” After Mama’s years being sick, I’m familiar with what bastards insurance companies can be. “Ry, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

He smiles softly, before pushing open the car door. “It’s okay. I didn’t tell you, did I? Come on, let’s stretch our legs a little bit.”

I follow him out of the car, heading for the trunk, but Ryder wraps his fingers around my wrist and tugs gently. “Leave it. First, I want to show you something.”

He turns and walks toward a narrow dirt path in the woods.

“But I’m hungry,” I whine. A granola bar flies over his shoulder and hits me. “Wow.”

“I anticipated your hanger, Sutter. Eat and walk. Let’s go.”

“I need water.” I’m not ready for this. Ryder’s got something up his sleeve. It feels like the death of our relationship as I know and love it. Do I want more? Of flipping course, I do. But I’m terrified of the unknown, of the loss I could experience if I take that leap.

A canteen dangles off Ryder’s finger as he raises it over his head, still not looking back. “Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder again.”