Ryder’s POV

I pushed the cue stick forward, lining up my shot, but my grip was tighter than it should be. The ball cracked against another, spinning into a pocket, but I barely registered the movement. My jaw was locked, my thoughts running in circles.

Across from me, Nate leaned against the pool table, watching. He hadn’t taken his turn yet.

"Are you gonna play or just stand there looking dumb?" I muttered, chalking my cue stick.

Nate arched a brow. "You good?"

I let out a dry chuckle. "Do ...