“Scared?” I scoffed. “I am not scared, Ryder.”

His eyes searched mine like he didn’t believe me, but he wasn’t saying it out loud yet. Not until I said it first.

I stood up too fast. My knee bumped the side table, and the glass I’d been drinking from rattled, threatening to tip. I didn’t care. I started pacing, one hand raking through my hair, the other fisting and unfisting at my side.

“I’m not scared,” I repeated, quieter. “I’m... realistic.”

“You keep ...