Fade Out (The Morganville Vampires #7)(46)



“I’m not judging you,” I finally tell him. He looks up at me. “We do what we feel we must for those we love, even when those we love have no idea that what they’re asking us to sacrifice is slowly killing us.”

An understanding washes over his face, and his blue eyes shimmer in the low light. They’re unblinking, like if he closes them even for a second, this moment will change, and we’ll never get it back. At least, that’s how I feel. And I’m terrified to move.

“Your dad expects you to follow in his footsteps,” Ryder says by way of response.

I shrug. “Maybe not so much his, but Becca’s. My stepmom. It’s not a suggestion or wish that I marry well, it’s a requirement of being a part of my family.”

His eyebrows press together, and he cocks his head. “That’s why…” He pauses, as if he’s working out some big connection. “That’s why you didn’t want your parents to see us dancing together. Why you’re refusing to go out with me. You’re scared your father will cut you off.”

I’m taken aback. Not because he’s ultimately wrong, but because he’s put all the wrong emphasis on the why. “I’m not scared of being cut off.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Then why not just tell him that you’re going to date whoever you want?”

How did this get turned around on me so quickly? My skin heats, my face prickles hot. “It’s not that simple. Why didn’t you just tell your dad you didn’t want to play football?” It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it.

Ryder jumps to his feet, towers over me. “That’s not at all the same.”

“Isn’t it?” No backing down now. “It’s not fair that you pass judgment on me, when you’re guilty of the same thing, Ryder. Even now, you’re living a life you don’t want in order to prove something to your dad. I’m not sure what, but for you, the reason is obviously enough. Can’t my reasons be enough?” I stare up into his face, pleading.

“Sure,” he says simply. “Absolutely.” He’s shaking; his neck muscles corded tight, his fists balled by his thighs. I don’t realize I’m doing it until I see the hurt in his eyes—I shrink back.

“You’re afraid of me?” His voice is so painfully soft, I have to gulp down the lump in my throat to speak.

“No,” I say. But that’s not at all the truth. And he knows it.

“You are. Dammit, Ari. I wouldn’t…I’m not my brother. I shouldn’t have told you. Fuck.” He takes off toward the door, but my rational side kicks in, and I leap to jump in front of him.

“I’m not afraid of you. Not in the way you’re assuming,” I force out.

He tilts his head, taking me in, then he’s stepping so close I can feel his body heat wash over me, like a summer wave crashing over my skin. It heightens all the rest of my senses, and I’m engulfed. Scent, taste, touch—completely aware of him.

“Kiss me.” His voice is a low boom. It echoes through the small room, into my chest, and reverberates through my soul.

“I can’t.”

“Kiss me, and I’ll tell Coach that I’m out. Just toss in the towel and walk away.” He grabs my waist and crushes my body against his. My skin explodes with a thousand shivers. “You don’t want to marry some rich, boring *—being told how to act, what to wear, what to do for the rest of your life—anymore than I want to be tackled by sweaty guys and sold off by leagues for however long, until my body’s trashed.”

“This is way too intense, way too fast,” I say. And it is. I’m fighting to retain every logical thought as they flee my head.

His fingers grip my shirt, pulling me even closer. “I’ve spent nearly four years proving I’m nothing like Jake. Which means I never let anyone get close enough to hurt. I’ll take a running leap off the edge, right now, for you.”

My heart stutters in my chest. “Why?” I breathe.

“Because it’s the first time I’ve ever been inspired. And I’m scared if I don’t do something drastic, then you’re going to fall off that edge, Ari. I don’t know how, or why, but I feel like if I don’t catch you now…”

I lower my chin. I watch his breaths expand and contract his chest. “Tell me the whole story, then I’ll kiss you, Ryder.” I look up.

His face contorts, but not out of confusion. He knows exactly what I’m demanding. “It’s not important.”

A hollow ache consumes me. I place my hands on his chest and push away. “I’m not getting involved with anyone ever again who I can’t trust completely. I want it all this time. No holding back. I can’t be with anyone who offers less.”

His grip on me breaks, and his hands drop to his sides. “Because it’s not worth the sacrifice,” he says. “You want to know that you have a sure thing before you tell Daddy to cut off your trust fund.”

Indignant anger rushes through me, spiking my blood pressure. “God, but you’re such an ass.”

“Am I? Or am I right?” He lowers his head, our faces inches apart. “Anything that's worth trying for won’t be a sure thing up front, Ari. Trust is earned, not given. And I can’t offer you a safe, easy relationship free of struggle. So you might as well marry whomever your father wants, because that’s a sure thing. A sure, f*cked up thing.”

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