#Tyler Riley | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oskea93 · 4 months ago

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Kansas Anymore (4)

Tyler Owens x OC

Summary: In which Riley Owens, the ex-wife of the infamous Tornado Wrangler, has 36 hours to come to terms if moving to a whole new country with their small daughter is something she truly wants to do.

Warnings: Cursing, angst, suggested smut, fluff. ✶ Chapter One ✶ ✶ Chapter Two ✶ ✶ Chapter Three ✶

■ A/N: You guys are amazing! I just want to say thank you so much for loving this story and following the tale of Riley and Tyler ❤️ ■ Taglist is available - just drop a comment! Would love to hear your thoughts, questions, or maybe just drop by to say hello! Can't wait to hear from y'all

Word Count: 11491 ( super long flashback!)

TL: @ellesmythe @18lkpeters @hookslove1592, @djs8891, @smoothdogsgirl @queenslandlover-93 @imjustamehbleh @love2write2626 @lt-jakeseresin @starcrossedtrek @kmc1989 @lauraseresin @freyagallileaevans @silscintilla

November, 2022

“Nicholas needs those prints on his desk no later than six tonight so he can get them sent to the designers in Japan.”

I nodded my head as my assistant rambled off the various tasks that awaited me as we walked back to my office. “Neve is asking that you meet her for lunch tomorrow around noon and then you have that meeting with the fashion head at the London branch at 2:45.”

As we rounded the corner to my office, the rhythmic click of my heels against the polished floor came to a sudden halt. My breath hitched, my heart skipping a beat as my eyes landed on the uninvited and unannounced visitor who had made himself far too comfortable on my couch. There he was, lounging as though he owned the place, one arm draped casually along the backrest, the other holding a phone he was in the process of slipping into his jacket pocket.

His sharp, green eyes found mine immediately, lighting up with a glint of amusement. A slow, knowing smile crept across his face, curling at the edges like he had been waiting for this exact moment. If he noticed the way my grip tightened on the folder in my hands, he didn’t let it show.

“Hello, darlin’,” he drawled, his rich voice filling the room with a warmth that felt entirely out of place in the cool, professional space of my office.

I didn’t move. Couldn’t, really. My brain was still processing the audacity of him sitting there, legs crossed, exuding the kind of confidence that bordered on arrogance. The faint scent of leather and something smokier—cologne, perhaps—lingered in the air, mixing with the faint hum of the heating system.

“I wasn’t aware anyone was waiting for you, Ri—” Charlotte’s voice faltered, her nervousness evident as her eyes darted quickly between the two of us. “Clara didn’t mention anything about a meeting or a visitor.”

“It’s fine, Charlotte.” My response was clipped, my tone distracted as I glanced toward Tyler, who stood there with a self-satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “If you can just give me a minute to deal with this—” I gestured toward him, my hand vaguely waving in his direction, as though dismissing an irritating inconvenience.

“Deal with me?” Tyler interjected, his voice sharp with mock indignation. “Gotta handle me like I’m some dog and not her husband.” His sarcastic tone dripped with bitterness as he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Not like we weren’t together for seven years or anything.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened considerably as the weight of his words sank in. “This is your husband?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper, her gaze flitting back to me, searching for confirmation and clarity.

I turned sharply to face Charlotte, who now looked as though she'd accidentally walked into a war zone. Her fingers hovered nervously over the clipboard she always carried. The poor girl was still new, and this was far from the kind of situation I wanted her to deal with on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Yes, Charlotte,” I said briskly, trying to maintain my composure. “This... is my husband. Ex-husband, technically.”

Tyler’s smirk widened as he leaned back comfortably on the couch, his arms stretched along the top of it like he owned the place. “Ex-husband, current headache. You know, same difference.”

I shot him a glare before turning back to Charlotte, who looked as if she were trying to decide between fleeing or melting into the floor. “Why don’t you take an early coffee break,” I suggested with a tight smile. “I can handle this.”

“But the prints—” she started, glancing between Tyler and me like she was weighing whether leaving me alone with him would be a mistake.

“I’ll have them done on time,” I interrupted, my tone firm. “Just give me a minute.”

Charlotte hesitated for only a second longer before nodding and scurrying off down the hall, her clipboard clutched protectively to her chest. Once she was out of earshot, I turned my full attention to Tyler, who was now making himself at home by casually flipping through one of the glossy fashion portfolios on the coffee table.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, crossing my arms.

“Good to see you too, darlin’,” he said, not bothering to look up as he flipped another page. “I like what you’ve done with the office. Very... you. Cold, professional, and just a little intimidating.”

“Cut the crap, Tyler,” I snapped. “How did you even get past security? Last I checked, my assistant doesn’t schedule appointments for ghosts from my past.”

He finally set the portfolio down, his expression softening just enough to make me suspicious. “Relax. I told the guy at the front desk that I was here to surprise my wife. Guess they’re suckers for a good romance.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Romance? That’s rich, coming from you.”

His smile faltered, just for a second, but it was enough to remind me that underneath all his bravado, Tyler was as human as the rest of us. Not that I was about to let him off the hook.

“You didn’t answer my question,” I pressed. “Why are you here?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked up at me. For a moment, he seemed almost... serious. “I needed to see you.”

I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, I sighed and moved behind my desk, needing the physical barrier between us. “If this is about the divorce papers, I already signed them. You should’ve gotten them weeks ago.”

“It’s not about the papers,” he said quietly.

“Then what?” My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. “Because unless this is about something important, I really don’t have time for whatever game you’re playing.”

“Would it be bad for me to say that I fucking miss you? That I miss my fucking kid?” His voice cracked slightly, the anger bubbling up but laced with something raw—pain. He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident in the way his shoulders rose and fell with heavy breaths. “I mean, when you take a guy’s daughter away from him, make it near impossible to see her in person, and then act like I’m the bad guy for feeling this way, what do you expect? You can’t blame a guy for trying to see his own kid. For trying to see the woman he—” He stopped himself, closing his eyes for a second as if steadying his resolve. “The woman he loves. But obviously, she doesn’t love him back.”

His words hit like a series of punches, each one sharper than the last. I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, more for protection than defiance, my nails digging into my skin as I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. “Tyler, this isn’t fair,” I said quietly, trying to keep my voice steady even though I could feel the cracks forming. “You don’t get to just show up here and make this about you.”

“Make this about me?” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “How the hell is this about me? This is about her. About the little girl who barely gets to see her dad. About the family we had—” His voice broke on the word, and he quickly cleared his throat, trying to mask the vulnerability that had slipped through. “The family we were supposed to have.”

I felt my chest tighten, guilt mixing with anger in a way that made it hard to breathe. “You think this is easy for me?” I shot back, my voice rising despite my best efforts to stay calm. “You think I wanted things to end up like this? That I wanted to—” My voice caught, and I had to pause, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears threatening to spill. “You don’t know what it’s like, Tyler. To feel like you’re constantly the one holding everything together while someone else gets to just… walk away.”

“Walk away?” His voice was louder now, the anger fully surfacing as he took a step closer. “You think I walked away? You think I wanted to lose everything? To lose you? To lose her?” His green eyes burned into mine, the weight of his words settling heavily between us. “I didn’t walk away, Riley. You pushed me out. You built a wall so high that I couldn’t climb it, no matter how hard I tried.”

I shook my head, unable to look at him, because if I did, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep the tears at bay. “This isn’t the time, Tyler,” I murmured, my voice barely audible. “This isn’t the place.”

“When is it ever going to be the time, huh?” he challenged, his voice rising again. “When are we ever going to talk about this? About us? Or is this just how it’s going to be? You pretending like I don’t exist, like I’m some stranger who doesn’t have the right to see his own family?”

“You don’t get to stand here and act like you’re the victim,” I snapped, the frustration spilling over despite my best efforts to keep it contained. “You don’t get to show up out of nowhere and throw this all in my face, like I’m the one who ruined everything.”

“Then who did, Riley?” he shot back, taking another step closer. “Because it sure as hell wasn’t just me.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. I didn’t have an answer—not one that I could say out loud, anyway. Because the truth was, he wasn’t entirely wrong. But admitting that felt like opening a door I wasn’t sure I’d be able to close again.

Tyler let out a bitter sigh, running a hand down his face as if trying to collect himself. “I just… I just want to see her,” he said, his voice softer now, the anger giving way to something more vulnerable. “I just want to be her dad. That’s all I’m asking for. Is that really too much?”

“It’s not up to me to decide—that’s what the courts are for, and that’s what the lawyers are going to discuss in a couple of weeks.” My voice was steady, though I could feel the strain in my chest as I spoke. I didn’t want this conversation, not here, not now. “I’ve never stopped her from talking to you, Tyler—”

“It’s not the same as seeing her in person, Riley!” he snapped, his voice rising before he caught himself. He glanced around quickly, realizing we were in a public space, and lowered his tone, though the frustration still simmered in every word. “Seeing her on a computer screen is *not* the same as seeing her in person. You know that. I’m not going to let her grow up without a dad—no matter how many miles are between us.”

I sighed, trying to keep my composure, but his words hit me in places I didn’t want to acknowledge. “You think I don’t know that?” I hissed, leaning in slightly so our conversation wouldn’t draw the attention of the people nearby. “Do you think this is what I wanted? For her to have a relationship with her dad through a screen? For us to be having this fight in the first place?”

“Then why?” he demanded, his voice lower now but no less intense. “Why does it feel like I’m the only one fighting for her? For us? Why does it feel like I’m the one who has to jump through every goddamn hoop just to be a part of her life?”

“That’s not fair,” I shot back, my voice trembling slightly, though I wasn’t sure if it was from anger, guilt, or a mix of both. “Do you think this is easy for me, Tyler? Do you think I wanted to uproot her life, to make her live in two different worlds? I didn’t make these decisions lightly, and you know that.”

“Yeah? Well, it doesn’t feel like you thought about me at all,” he said bitterly, shaking his head as he leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “Or about what it would do to her, growing up without both of her parents in the same place. You say you didn’t make the decision lightly, but it sure feels like you didn’t think about anyone but yourself.”

I flinched at his words, even though I tried not to let it show. “That’s not fair,” I repeated, though it felt weaker this time, less convincing even to myself. “You don’t know what it was like for me. You don’t know what I had to weigh, what I had to sacrifice—”

“And you think I didn’t sacrifice anything?” he interrupted, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward slightly, his voice growing more intense despite the quiet. “You think I didn’t lose everything the day you left? You took her, Riley. You didn’t just take my daughter, you took my family, my home, my—” He stopped, clenching his jaw as if the words were too heavy to say out loud. “You made the decision for both of us. You didn’t even give me a chance to fight for us.”

“I gave you plenty of chances, Tyler,” I said sharply, my own anger bubbling to the surface now. “But you didn’t fight then. You didn’t fight for us when it mattered.”

His face fell, and for a moment, I thought I’d managed to shut him down. But then he let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he stood up fully, towering over me. “That’s rich, Riley. That’s real rich. Blaming me for something that was just as much your fault as it was mine.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he held up a hand, cutting me off. “You know what? Forget it. I’m not here to argue with you about the past. I’m here for her. I don’t care what you think about me, or what you think I deserve. She deserves to have her dad in her life, not just on some damn screen. And I’m not going to stop fighting for that.”

“You think I want to keep her from you?” I said, my voice shaking now, the walls I’d built around myself beginning to crumble. “You think I want her to grow up without her dad? I’ve done everything I can to make this work, Tyler. I’ve tried to make it fair, to give you access to her even from a distance. But this—this isn’t just about what you want. It’s about her. It’s about what’s best for her.”

“And you think what’s best for her is growing up with her dad as a visitor in her life?”

I shook my head, exhaustion heavy in every movement. “I’m not going to continue this here. Not in my office. Not in front of all these people.” My voice was firm, but the weariness bled through despite my best efforts to keep it together.

Tyler didn’t even flinch. He stood there, arms crossed, his jaw set in a way that told me he wasn’t letting this go. “No,” he said, his voice calm but resolute, “but we are gonna continue it tonight when you get off.” He spoke as though it was a fact, not a request, his tone leaving no room for argument. “There’s a bar down in the lobby of my ho—”

“No,” I interrupted sharply, shaking my head and holding up a hand to stop him. “I’m not meeting you at some hotel, Tyler.”

“It’s not—” He paused, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to keep himself calm. “It’s not about the hotel, Riley. It’s about having a damn conversation where we’re not surrounded by your coworkers or random strangers.” His voice softened slightly, but the frustration was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. “Somewhere neutral. Somewhere we can actually talk.”

I crossed my arms, my stance defensive, but it wasn’t enough to mask the crack in my resolve. “We don’t need to talk. Everything that needs to be said is being handled by lawyers. That’s the whole point of this process, Tyler.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Lawyers? Really? You’re going to let lawyers decide what’s best for our daughter? For us?” His green eyes burned into mine, and for a moment, I had to look away. “You can’t just hide behind them forever, Riley. At some point, you’re going to have to face me. You’re going to have to face this.”

“I’m not hiding,” I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. “I’m doing what I have to do to protect her. To protect us. You think this is easy for me? That I enjoy dragging this out in a courtroom?”

“Then stop dragging it out!” he countered, his voice rising again before he quickly brought it back down, mindful of the people nearby. “Stop making this harder than it has to be. Just meet me halfway, Riley. That’s all I’m asking.”

I let out a shaky breath, my arms dropping to my sides as the weight of his words settled over me. “I have been meeting you halfway. I’ve done everything I can to make this work. But you—” I paused, swallowing hard as I fought to keep my emotions in check. “You’re the one who keeps pushing. You’re the one who keeps showing up like this, making demands, acting like you’re the only one who’s hurting.”

“You think I’m just making demands?” he asked, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. “You think I like showing up here, practically begging to be a part of her life? I’m trying, Riley. I’m trying so damn hard, and it feels like no matter what I do, it’s never enough for you.”

“It’s not about me,” I said, my tone softening despite myself. “It’s about her. It’s always been about her.”

“Then start acting like it,” he said bluntly, the words cutting through me like a knife. “Because right now, all she’s seeing is two parents who can’t get their shit together. And if we don’t figure this out—if we don’t fix this—she’s the one who’s going to pay the price.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of his words settling heavily between us. I glanced around the room, noticing the curious glances from a few of my coworkers, and felt a fresh wave of anxiety wash over me. This wasn’t the place for this. He was right about that, at least.

“I’ll think about it,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m not promising anything.”

Tyler studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, though it was more out of resignation than agreement. “You’ve got my number,” he said simply before turning on his heel and walking away, leaving me standing there with a knot in my stomach and a thousand emotions I didn’t know how to process…

I pulled the umbrella closed as I stepped through the door, the soft patter of rain fading into the background as the sound of muted voices and gentle laughter floated through the lobby. The warm light of the space contrasted sharply with the chill I’d carried in from outside, but it did little to ease the knot in my stomach. The signs leading to the bar area guided me forward, my footsteps slow and deliberate despite the tension urging me to turn around and leave.

From the time Tyler had walked out of my office earlier that day, up until twenty minutes before I finally left work, I’d been locked in an internal battle with myself. My thoughts had spun in circles, bouncing between anger, guilt, and reluctant understanding. I didn’t want to be here—didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he’d won, that his persistence had cracked my resolve. But deep down, I knew this wasn’t about winning or losing. It was about Caroline.

Tyler was her father. The man she adored. The man she looked up to with those bright, wide eyes that lit up at the sound of his voice. No matter how much history there was between Tyler and me, no matter how much bitterness lingered in the spaces we couldn’t seem to bridge, I couldn’t deny that bond. And I couldn’t deny that she needed him.

I never wanted to be one of those moms who cut their child’s father out of their life just because the relationship had ended on a sour note. It wasn’t fair—to him, to her, or to the family we’d once tried so hard to build. Caroline didn’t deserve to pay the price for our mistakes. She didn’t deserve to grow up carrying the weight of our failures.

This wasn’t about me. It couldn’t be. My relationship with Tyler, as complicated and fractured as it was, was between him and me. Caroline didn’t ask to be caught in the middle of it. She didn’t deserve to feel the tension that lingered in every strained phone call, every awkward handoff. And no matter how much easier it would have been to keep him at arm’s length, to shield myself from the pain of reopening wounds I hadn’t fully healed, I couldn’t do that to her.

As I stepped into the bar area, the soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses greeted me. The warm amber glow of the overhead lights made the space feel inviting, but it didn’t calm the nerves that twisted in my stomach. My eyes scanned the room, searching for him, and it didn’t take long to find him seated at a small table near the back, his posture tense but his gaze steady as he watched the door. He saw me before I saw him, and as our eyes met, I felt a flicker of something I couldn’t quite name. Relief? Sadness? Maybe both.

He stood as I approached, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. “You came,” he said simply, his voice low and careful, as though he didn’t want to push me away before the conversation even started.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak just yet. Instead, I slid into the chair across from him, setting my umbrella against the side of the table and brushing a few stray droplets of water off my coat. The silence between us was heavy, but not unbearable. It felt like an unspoken truce, a tentative step toward something neither of us could quite define.

“I wasn’t sure if you would,” he admitted after a moment, his gaze flickering down to the table before meeting mine again. “I half-expected you to blow me off.”

“Believe me, I thought about it,” I said, my tone dry but not unkind. “But this isn’t about you or me, Tyler. It’s about Caroline. It’s always about her.”

He nodded slowly, his expression softening as he leaned back in his chair. “I know. That’s why I asked you to come. I’m not trying to make this harder on you, Riley. I’m not trying to pick a fight. I just… I just want to figure out how to make this work.”

I studied him for a moment, searching for cracks in his sincerity, but I didn’t find any. He looked tired—more tired than I’d seen him in a long time—and the weight he carried was written in the lines around his eyes, in the way his shoulders sagged just slightly.

“I want that too,” I said quietly, surprising even myself with the admission. “I want her to have both of us in her life, Tyler. But this… this isn’t easy. You know that.”

He nodded again, his jaw tightening slightly as he processed my words. “I know it’s not easy. But nothing about this has been easy, Riley. Nothing about losing you, losing her, has been easy. I just…

“I don’t want to talk about us—that’s not why I came.” My voice was firm, though I could feel the tension in my chest, the strain of holding back everything I wanted to say but knew I couldn’t. I watched Tyler as he nodded slowly, his jaw tightening for a moment before he exhaled and leaned back in his chair.

“Fair enough,” he said after a beat, his voice quieter now, more measured. “I didn’t ask you here to dredge up the past, Riley. I just… I needed to talk to you. About Caroline” His eyes softened as he mentioned our daughter, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through the frustration that had been so present earlier in the day.

I nodded, forcing myself to stay grounded, to keep the walls I’d built firmly in place. “Good,” I replied, my tone clipped but not harsh. “Because that’s the only reason I’m here. For Caroline.”

Tyler’s lips twitched into something that was almost a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I figured as much,” he said, his voice tinged with a mix of resignation and understanding. “I know where we stand, Riley. I’m not delusional.”

I raised an eyebrow at that, leaning back slightly in my own chair. “Do you?” I asked, my tone sharper than I intended. “Because showing up at my office like that didn’t exactly scream ‘I know where we stand.’ It screamed ‘I’m going to bulldoze my way through every boundary you’ve tried to set.’”

He flinched slightly at my words but didn’t back down. Instead, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he met my gaze head-on. “I’m not trying to bulldoze anything. I’m just trying to be heard. You don’t make it easy, Riley. You’re so locked up in your own head, your own plans, that it feels like there’s no room for me in any of it.”

I clenched my jaw, my fingers curling into fists beneath the table as I fought to keep my emotions in check. “This isn’t about you,” I said quietly, though the edge in my voice was unmistakable. “It’s about her. It’s always been about her.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m here,” he shot back, his voice rising slightly before he caught himself and glanced around the bar. His tone dropped again, calm but laced with frustration. “Because I want to be a part of Caroline’s life, Riley. Not just some guy she talks to on a screen once a week. I want to see her. I want to know her. I want to be her dad.”

“You are her dad,” I said, my voice soft but firm. “No one is taking that away from you, Tyler. I’ve never tried to take that away from you.”

“Maybe not intentionally,” he said, his tone gentler now but no less pointed. “But that’s what it feels like, Riley. Every time I have to fight to see her, every time I have to go through you or a screen or a lawyer just to talk to my own daughter, it feels like I’m being pushed further and further away.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I muttered, my voice low but steady, though I could feel the tension building in my chest. “But if you just saw things from my point of view, you’d understand where I’m coming from.”

Tyler’s jaw tightened, and he let out a quiet, bitter laugh as he leaned back in his chair. “Your point of view?” he repeated, his tone laced with frustration. “Riley, I’ve been *trying* to see things from your point of view for years. I’ve been trying to understand why you keep me at arm’s length, why you make it so damn hard for me to be a part of her life. But no matter how much I try, it feels like you’ve already made up your mind about me.”

“That’s not true,” I said quickly, though the words felt hollow even as I said them. “I haven’t made up my mind about you. This isn’t about you, Tyler. It’s about her. It’s about what’s best for Caroline.”

“And you think you’re the only one who knows what’s best for her?” he shot back, his voice rising slightly before he caught himself. He glanced around the bar, his shoulders stiff as he leaned forward again, lowering his voice. “You think I don’t want what’s best for her? That I don’t lie awake at night wondering if I’m doing enough, if I’m ever going to be enough for her?”

I looked away, unable to hold his gaze as his words hit far too close to home. “I know you love her,” I said quietly, my fingers curling into fists beneath the table. “I’ve never doubted that, Tyler. But love isn’t always enough. She needs more than that. She needs stability. She needs routine. And your job—”

“Here we go again,” he interrupted, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest. “My job. The big, bad storm chaser who can’t possibly be a good dad because he doesn’t punch a clock in some office every day.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. “Don’t twist this around to make me the bad guy. You know exactly what I mean. Your job is dangerous, Tyler. It’s unpredictable. You’re constantly on the road, constantly chasing storms and putting yourself in harm’s way. How am I supposed to feel comfortable with her being around that?”

“You think I’d ever put her in danger?” he asked, his voice low but cutting, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward again. “You really think I’d be reckless with my own daughter? That I’d ever do anything to hurt her?”

“I’m not saying you’d do it on purpose,” I said, my voice trembling slightly, though I tried to keep it steady. “But accidents happen, Tyler. No matter how careful you are, no matter how much you plan, things can go wrong. And I’m not willing to take that risk with her.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his expression a mix of anger, hurt, and something else I couldn’t quite place. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair as he looked away. “You act like I don’t know that,” he said quietly, his voice softer now but no less intense. “Like I don’t think about that every damn day. You think I don’t know the risks? That I don’t lie awake at night thinking about all the ways things could go wrong? I know, Riley. I know better than anyone. But that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve to be in her life.”

“I never said you didn’t deserve to be in her life,” I replied, my voice softening despite the frustration simmering beneath the surface. “I want you to be in her life, Tyler. I want her to have her dad. But it’s not that simple. You can’t just show up whenever it’s convenient for you and expect everything to fall into place.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” he said quickly, his tone defensive. “I’m trying, Riley. I’m trying to figure this out, to find a way to make this work. But you make it so damn hard. You keep putting up walls, and no matter how much I try to break through them, you just build them higher.”

I swallowed hard, his words hitting a nerve I didn’t want to acknowledge. “I’m not putting up walls,” I said quietly, though even I could hear the uncertainty in my voice. “I’m just trying to do what’s best for her. That’s all I’ve ever tried to do.”

“And you think I’m not?” Tyler asked, his voice rising slightly before he caught himself again. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as his eyes locked onto mine, our faces mere inches apart. His frustration simmered under the surface, but there was something else there too—something raw and desperate that made it hard to hold his gaze. “Remember our dream?” he continued, his voice quieter now, though no less intense. “Two or three kids, a house with a picket fence and a wraparound porch. We used to talk about it all the time, Riley. Don’t act like you don’t remember.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes as I blinked away the tears that were beginning to well up. I hated that he could still do this—still drag me back into the past, to a time when things were simpler, and the weight of reality hadn’t yet crushed the dreams we’d built together. “Of course, I remember,” I muttered, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady. “But that was a long time ago, Tyler. What we had is over.” I forced the words out, each one feeling heavier than the last, as though saying them out loud would somehow make them easier to believe.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he said softly, his tone shifting as he reached across the table, his hand brushing against mine. The gesture was small, almost hesitant, but it was enough to send a jolt through me. My instinct kicked in before I could think, and I jerked my hand back as though his touch had burned me.

“Don’t,” I said sharply, the word cutting through the space between us like a blade. My heart was pounding in my chest, a mix of anger and something I couldn’t quite name. “You don’t get to do that, Tyler. You don’t get to sit here and act like we can just go back to the way things were. Like nothing happened. Like you didn’t—” I stopped myself, my voice catching as the words threatened to spill out. I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady myself before continuing. “What we had wasn’t enough. It’s not enough now, and it’s not going to be enough for Caroline either.”

His expression shifted, the hurt flashing across his face so briefly that I almost missed it. “That’s not fair,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t get to decide that. You don’t get to sit there and tell me that what we had wasn’t enough when it was enough for me. When it still is enough for me.”

I shook my head, my hands gripping the edge of the table as though it was the only thing keeping me grounded. “You don’t understand, Tyler,” I said, my voice cracking under the weight of my emotions. “You’re still holding onto this idea of us, this picture-perfect version of what we were supposed to be. But that version doesn’t exist anymore. It hasn’t for a long time.”

“Why not?” he asked, his voice louder now, his frustration boiling over. “Why doesn’t it exist anymore, Riley? Because you gave up on it? Because you decided it wasn’t worth fighting for?” He sat back in his chair, shaking his head as he let out a bitter laugh. “You talk about me not seeing things from your point of view, but have you ever tried to see things from mine? Have you ever stopped to think about what it felt like to lose you? To lose my family? To lose the life we were supposed to have?”

His words hit like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to argue, to defend myself, to tell him that he didn’t understand what it had been like for me either. But the truth was, he wasn’t entirely wrong. I had made the decision to leave. I had been the one to walk away, to tear apart the foundation of the life we’d built together. And even though I knew, deep down, that it had been the right decision, that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“I didn’t give up,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t walk away because I stopped loving you, Tyler. I walked away because I couldn’t keep pretending that love was enough. We were falling apart, and no matter how much we tried to hold on, we couldn’t stop it. I had to make a choice—for me, for her. And it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

Tyler stared at me, his jaw tightening as he absorbed my words. For a moment, I thought he might argue, might try to convince me that I was wrong. But then he let out a heavy sigh,

“This was a mistake,” I said abruptly, my voice shaking as I scrambled to my feet. The chair scraped loudly against the floor, drawing a few curious glances from nearby tables, but I didn’t care. I needed to get out of there. I could feel the walls closing in, the weight of Tyler’s words pressing down on me like a storm I couldn’t escape.

I grabbed my purse and umbrella in one swift motion, fumbling slightly as my hands trembled. “I shouldn’t have come,” I muttered, more to myself than to him. My heart was pounding in my chest, a whirlwind of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Anger, sadness, guilt—they all swirled together, making it impossible to think clearly.

“Riley, wait,” Tyler said, his voice steady but tinged with urgency as he stood too. His movements were slower, more measured, as though he was afraid that pushing too hard would make me bolt entirely. “Don’t do this. Don’t just walk away.”

I shook my head, avoiding his gaze as I clutched my purse tightly. “I can’t do this, Tyler,” I said, my voice cracking despite my best efforts to keep it together. “I thought we could have a conversation, a civil conversation, but it’s always the same with us. It always comes back to this—to you and me and everything that went wrong.”

“Because it’s not fixed, Riley!” he shot back, his own frustration bubbling to the surface. He ran a hand through his hair, his green eyes blazing as he looked at me. “We can’t just pretend it didn’t happen, like it doesn’t matter. You think we can just keep sweeping it under the rug and everything will magically work itself out? That’s not how this works. That’s not how we fix this.”

I let out a shaky laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Fix this?” I repeated, my voice bitter. “There is no fixing this, Tyler. What we had is broken. It’s been broken for a long time, and no amount of talking about dreams or the past or what could’ve been is going to change that.”

“It doesn’t have to be broken,” he said, his tone softening as he took a step closer. “Riley, I know things weren’t perfect—hell, I know I wasn’t perfect—but that doesn’t mean we can’t try. For us. For Caroline.”

I flinched at the mention of her name, the knot in my stomach tightening. “This isn’t about Caroline,” I said quietly, though the words felt like a lie even as I said them. “This is about you not letting go. About you refusing to accept that sometimes, love isn’t enough. Sometimes, it’s not enough to fix what’s broken.”

“I’m not refusing to let go,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “I’m refusing to give up. There’s a difference, Riley. I’m fighting for my family. Because I still believe we can make this work, even if you don’t.”

I stared at him, my chest tightening as his words hung heavy in the air between us. For a moment, I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that it was possible to go back, to rebuild what had been lost. But I knew better. I knew that some things couldn’t be undone, no matter how much you wished they could.

“This was a mistake,” I repeated, my voice steadier now as I took a step back, putting more distance between us. “I shouldn’t have come here, Tyler. I thought we could talk like adults, but it’s clear that we’re just going in circles. And I can’t keep doing this. I won’t.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but I shook my head, cutting him off before he could say anything. “Don’t,” I said firmly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Please, don’t. I can’t do this right now.”

“Can I at least see my daughter before I head back to Arkansas?” Tyler’s voice was quieter now, but the weight of his words lingered between us. He wasn’t asking out of anger this time, or frustration—it was something softer, more vulnerable, and it stopped me in my tracks. His green eyes, usually so sharp and unrelenting, were pleading now, searching mine for any sign of compromise.

I froze, my hand tightening around the strap of my purse as I stood just a few steps from the door, the rain still pattering faintly against the glass. My heart felt like it was caught in a vise, squeezed between the exhaustion of this entire conversation and the guilt that his request stirred up. I wanted to say yes, to tell him he could see her, to give him that moment with Caroline that I knew he was desperate for. But another part of me hesitated, unsure if giving in would open a door I wasn’t ready to walk through.

“Tyler…” I started, my voice wavering as I turned slightly to face him. “You know it’s not that simple.”

His jaw tightened, and he let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back against the edge of the table. “It should be,” he said softly, his voice laced with a mix of sadness and frustration. “She’s my daughter too, Riley. I shouldn’t have to beg just to see her.”

I let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the conversation pressing down on me. “I’m not trying to keep her from you,” I said softly, though my voice carried the exhaustion of repeating the same thing over and over. “It’s just… it’s late, Tyler. She doesn’t even know you’re in town. You showing up now will only get her hopes up, and then, come tomorrow, when you go off with the wind again, she’s going to be another sad kid who has to deal with her family not being together.”

Tyler’s face twisted, a mixture of frustration and hurt flashing across his expression. He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped, running a hand through his hair as he took a step back. His hands clenched into fists at his sides before he let out a slow breath, forcing himself to loosen them. “That’s not fair,” he said finally, his voice low but steady. “You make it sound like I just swoop in and out of her life without a care in the world, like I don’t think about what it does to her. Do you think I don’t know how hard it is for her? Do you think I don’t feel it every time I have to say goodbye?”

“I’m not saying you don’t care,” I replied, my voice softer now but still firm. “I know you do. I know you love her more than anything. But that doesn’t change the fact that your life isn’t built for this, Tyler. It’s not built for her.”

He flinched at my words, and for a moment, I thought he might lash out, but instead, he just shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “You keep saying that,” he said, his tone quiet but sharp. “That my life isn’t built for her. That I’m not built for this. But do you-“

"Fine!" I snapped, my voice cutting through the hum of the city like a whip. My frustration with the entire conversation tipped over, spilling out before I could stop it. "Fine, you can come see her, Tyler. Because I’m done. I’m done having this same talk with you over and over again. I can’t do it anymore."

Tyler blinked, clearly caught off guard by my outburst. For a moment, he just stared at me, his lips parting slightly as though he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Then, slowly, his expression shifted, the anger and frustration melting into something softer. Something more cautious.

"Riley…" he started, his voice low, almost hesitant. He reached out as if to steady the situation, his hand hovering in the air between us. "I didn’t mean to push you like this. I just… I just want—"

"No," I interrupted, holding up a hand to stop him. "Don’t. Don’t try to justify it. I know what you want, Tyler. You’ve made that perfectly clear. And you know what? I want it too. I want Caroline to have her dad in her life. I want her to know you, to love you, to feel like she has both parents who care about her. But this…" I gestured vaguely between us, my hand trembling slightly. "This isn’t working. This constant back and forth, this fighting—this isn’t healthy for anyone. Least of all her."

Silence enveloped us for the first time tonight, thick and heavy, like the calm that settles just before a storm. Neither of us moved, the weight of everything we’d said hanging in the air between us. I could feel Tyler’s eyes on me, his gaze filled with something I couldn’t quite decipher—relief, frustration, desperation, maybe all of it at once. My own emotions were tangled beyond recognition, a mix of exhaustion, guilt, and an aching sadness I couldn’t seem to shake.

Finally, I broke the stillness, my voice low but firm. “You already have my address,” I said, not looking at him as I adjusted the strap of my purse on my shoulder. “Just meet me at my place, and we can go from there.”

I turned, my heels clicking softly against the floor as I started to walk away, eager to escape the intensity of his presence. But something made me stop, something deep in my chest that wouldn’t let me leave without one last parting word. Slowly, I turned back to face him, catching the faint flicker of surprise in his expression as I met his gaze head-on.

“You have an hour, Tyler,” I said, my tone sharper now, the edge of frustration creeping back in despite the exhaustion weighing me down. “I’d make it count if I were you.”

His brows furrowed slightly, as though he was trying to read between the lines of what I’d just said. For a moment, he didn’t respond, his lips parting slightly as if to speak, only to close again. It was rare to see Tyler at a loss for words, and for some reason, it made the knot in my stomach tighten even more.

“Riley—” he started, but I cut him off with a small shake of my head.

“Don’t,” I said quickly, my voice trembling slightly despite my best efforts to keep it steady. “Just… don’t say anything. Not right now. Just show up, okay? If you really mean what you’ve been saying tonight, if you really want to make this work—for her—then prove it. Be there.”

For a moment, he just stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded, his jaw tightening as he seemed to steel himself. “I’ll be there,” he said quietly, his voice steady but laced with something raw. “You have my word.”

I nodded in return, not trusting myself to say anything else. Without another word, I turned and walked toward the door, my steps quick and purposeful even though my chest felt like it was about to cave in.

This wasn’t how I’d wanted things to go. I’d come here tonight hoping for clarity, for some kind of resolution that would make everything feel easier, lighter. But instead, I felt more conflicted than ever. Tyler’s words echoed in my mind, his frustration and pain mingling with my own until I couldn’t tell where his ended and mine began.

An hour. That’s all I’d given him. It wasn’t much, but it was all I could give right now. And as much as I hated to admit it, a part of me was scared—scared that he’d show up and prove me wrong, or worse, that he wouldn’t show up at all.

I took a deep breath, the cold air stinging my lungs, and started toward my car. One hour. That’s all I had to wait. And yet, it already felt like an eternity…

“Daddy has to go, but I love you so much, Sugar pie,” Tyler’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he rocked Caroline gently in the chair. The sound of the creaking rocker echoed faintly through the quiet house, blending with the muffled hum of the rain outside. He cradled her close, her small arms wrapped around his neck as if she could keep him from leaving just by holding on tight enough. The sight of them together in the dim glow of the nightlight was enough to twist something deep in my chest, but I stayed hidden in the hallway, my back pressed against the wall as I eavesdropped on their final moments together tonight.

The rocker creaked again; a sound I’d grown so used to in those first sleepless months when Caroline was just a newborn. Tyler had spent hours in that chair, rocking her back and forth, humming softly under his breath when she couldn’t settle. He’d struggled to put the chair together the week before she was born, insisting that he didn’t need the instructions, and I’d laughed as he cursed quietly under his breath every time he got a piece wrong. Now, watching him rock our little girl in it, I wondered if he remembered those moments as clearly as I did. If they hurt him as much as they hurt me.

“Why can’t you stay with me, Daddy?” Caroline’s small voice broke through my thoughts, and I felt my heart shatter into a thousand pieces. Her words were so innocent, so full of the pure, unfiltered honesty that only a child could have, and yet, they carried a weight that neither of us could bear.

Tyler froze for a moment, his arms tightening around her as if he could shield her from the pain of the question. He pressed his lips to her hair, his eyes squeezed shut as he took a deep, shaky breath. “Oh, Sugar pie,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You know I’d stay if I could. I’d stay with you forever if I could.”

“Then why can’t you?” Caroline asked, her small voice cracking with confusion and hurt. She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him with those wide, tear-filled eyes that always seemed to cut straight through to his soul. “Why can’t you stay here with me and Mommy?”

I covered my mouth with my hand, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as I listened from the shadows of the hallway. I knew this moment would come eventually—the moment when Caroline would start asking the hard questions, the ones we didn’t have easy answers for. But no amount of preparation could have made this easier. Hearing her little voice tremble, seeing the way she clung to him like her life depended on it, was almost too much to bear.

Tyler swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he struggled to find the right words. His hand came up to gently stroke Caroline’s hair, his fingers trembling slightly. “Sometimes, grown-ups have to live in different places,” he said finally, his voice soft and careful. “It’s not because I don’t love you, or because I don’t want to be with you. It’s just… the way things have to be right now.”

“But me and Mommy miss you,” Caroline said, her small voice trembling as she clung tighter to her father. Her words were simple, but the weight they carried was immense, heavy enough to make my breath hitch in my chest.

She was right—I did miss him. I missed him more than I ever wanted to admit, even to myself. Tyler wasn’t just Caroline’s father; he was my husband—well, ex-husband now—but that didn’t erase the years we had spent building a life together. The memories, the laughter, the love—it was all still there, lingering in the quiet corners of my heart, no matter how much I tried to push it away.

I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes as I fought the tears that threatened to spill over. I had loved him. I still loved him. And that was the hardest part of all of this. I never thought that our happily-ever-after would turn into a bitter divorce hearing, full of accusations and tears and lawyers who didn’t care about the life we had built together. I never thought we would end up here, two people who had once promised to love each other forever now struggling to figure out how to co-parent a little girl who didn’t understand why her family had fallen apart.

Tyler had been my everything at one point. The man who knew me better than anyone, who could make me laugh even on my worst days, who had held my hand through every high and low. He was the only man I had ever truly loved, and watching that love slip through my fingers had been one of the most painful experiences of my life. It was like trying to hold onto water—no matter how tightly I tried to grasp it, it always seemed to find a way to escape.

And now, as I listened to Caroline’s innocent, heart-wrenching questions, I felt that pain all over again. But this time, it wasn’t just my pain. It was hers too. She had been caught in the middle of something she didn’t ask for, something she didn’t deserve. And that broke me in a way I couldn’t even begin to describe.

“I miss you and Mommy too, bug,” Tyler said softly, his voice cracking ever so slightly as he cradled Caroline closer. He brushed a stray curl from her forehead, his hand lingering as though he couldn’t bear to let go. “But I promise, just because I’m not here with you in person, doesn’t mean I’m not with you. I’m always in here.” He tapped her chest gently with his finger, right over her heart.

Caroline tilted her head, her big, tear-filled eyes locking onto his as she asked, “In my heart?”

Tyler nodded, a small, tender smile breaking through the sadness etched into his face. “Yep,” he said, his voice warm and reassuring. “Every time you miss me, or feel sad because I’m not here, just remember that I’m right there in your heart. And nothing—*nothing*—can ever change that.”

Caroline sniffled, her little hands clutching at his shirt as though she might fall apart if she let go. “But what if I need to talk to you?” she asked, her voice trembling. “What if I want you to hug me and you’re not here?”

Tyler’s expression tightened for a moment, the pain of her words flickering across his face like a shadow. But he quickly steadied himself, his hand moving to gently stroke her back. “You know what?” he said softly, leaning in a little closer. “If you ever need to talk to me, all you have to do is ask Mommy to call me. She can call me anytime, bug, and I’ll answer. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, I’ll stop everything to talk to you. I promise.”

“Whenever I want?” Caroline asked, her voice brightening just a little, though her tears still glistened on her cheeks.

“Whenever you want,” Tyler confirmed, his smile growing as he kissed her forehead. “You’re more important than anything else, Caroline. There’s not a single thing in this world that matters more to me than you.”

Caroline seemed to consider this for a moment, her little brow furrowing as she processed his words. Finally, she nodded, her grip on his shirt loosening just slightly. “Okay,” she said softly, her voice still hesitant but a little steadier now. “But I’m still gonna miss you, Daddy.”

Tyler’s smile faltered for a split second, and I could see the sheer effort it took for him to hold himself together in that moment. “I’m gonna miss you too, Sugar pie,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I already do. But missing someone just means you love them a whole lot, and I love you more than anything.”

Caroline seemed satisfied with that answer, her head resting against his chest as she let out a tiny sigh. Tyler rocked her gently in the chair, the motion soothing both of them as the room fell quiet for a moment.

I took that as my cue to step back into the kitchen, retreating quietly so Tyler could have a few more moments with Caroline. My footsteps were light, careful not to make any noise that could pull either of them out of their private moment. As much as I wanted to stay rooted in that hallway and soak in the tenderness of their exchange, I knew this wasn’t my moment to intrude. This was for them—just a father and his daughter, sharing a goodbye that neither of them truly wanted to say.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, I exhaled slowly, the tension in my chest refusing to loosen. I had been holding my breath since this conversation started, and even now, with the faint sound of Tyler’s voice drifting down the hall, I couldn’t seem to relax. My emotions were too tangled, too raw.

I busied myself by tidying up the already clean counter, wiping away crumbs that weren’t there and straightening the edge of a dish towel. It gave my hands something to do, gave me a distraction from the ache that lingered deep in my chest. But nothing could drown out the quiet hum of Tyler’s voice or the occasional soft murmur from Caroline. Every word, every sound, seemed to wrap itself around me like a thread, pulling me back into a web of emotions I wasn’t sure I could untangle.

The rocker creaked faintly again, the noise carrying through the stillness of the house. I imagined Tyler holding her close, whispering reassurances that he would call her soon, that he loved her more than she could possibly understand. I imagined him tucking her back under her blankets, smoothing her hair, and kissing her forehead like he’d done a hundred times before. And I imagined the look on his face—the mixture of love and pain that always seemed to linger whenever he said goodbye to her. It was a look I knew all too well, one that had been etched into my memory from the day we decided to end our marriage.

I leaned my elbows on the counter, covering my face with my hands as I tried to steady myself. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. None of this was supposed to happen. We were supposed to be a family, raising Caroline together, making memories in the home we’d built. But somewhere along the way, things had unraveled, and now here we were—two people who used to love each other, trying to figure out how to co-parent without breaking her heart in the process.

The sound of Tyler’s footsteps pulled me out of my thoughts. I straightened quickly, brushing my hands down the front of my shirt as though that could somehow mask the fact that I was barely holding it together.

He appeared in the doorway a moment later, his shoulders slightly slumped and his hands stuffed into his pockets. His eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, neither of us said anything. The silence between us wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t comfortable either. It was heavy, filled with all the words we couldn’t say, all the emotions we couldn’t bring ourselves to admit.

“She’s asleep,” Tyler said finally, his voice low and quiet. “Knocked out as soon as her head hit the pillow.”

I nodded, my throat feeling tight as I tried to find the right words. “Thank you,” I said softly, my voice barely audible. “For being here. For… for making time for her.”

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, but he didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he leaned against the doorframe, his gaze drifting toward the hallway where Caroline’s room was. “I hate leaving her,” he admitted after a moment, his voice cracking slightly. “Every time I walk out that door, it feels like I’m leaving a piece of myself behind.”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. “She knows you love her,” I said, my voice trembling. “She knows how much you care, Tyler. And that means the world to her. Even if she doesn’t always understand why you have to go.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he looked down at the floor. “I just wish I could do more,” he said quietly. “I wish I could be here for her the way she deserves. The way you’ve been.”

My eyes drifted to the floor, unable to hold his gaze any longer. The faint sheen of pink nail polish on my toes caught my attention, a distraction so small yet so necessary in this moment. My chest felt tight, my emotions threatening to spill over as tears pricked at the edges of my vision. I blinked rapidly, willing them away, but the lump in my throat only grew heavier.

I didn’t want to cry—not now, not in front of him. Not when I’d spent so much time building the walls I needed to keep myself steady, to protect myself from everything this moment was dredging up. But the weight of the evening, of his words, of everything was becoming too much.

Seconds passed in silence, the air between us thick with unspoken emotions that neither of us seemed brave enough to confront. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw his boots step into view. Worn, scuffed, and familiar in a way that made my chest ache, they stopped just inches from my bare feet. I froze, my breath catching as I felt the distance between us shrink to nothing.

And then his hand—calloused, warm, and unmistakably his—came into view. His thumb hooked softly under my jaw, the rough pad of his finger just brushing my skin as he tilted my face upward. The gesture was gentle, unassuming, but it carried a weight that made my heart stumble in my chest. I resisted at first, my instinctive defenses kicking in, but his persistence was quiet and steady, and eventually, I gave in.

When my eyes met his, the floodgates I had been so desperately trying to hold back threatened to burst. His gaze was steady, searching mine with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. For a moment, neither of us spoke, but the silence was deafening. His green eyes—so familiar, so full of emotions I couldn’t quite name—seemed to reach straight into the parts of me I’d been trying to bury.

“Riley,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. It was the way he used to say my name, back when things were simpler, back when we were still us. Back when the love between us was enough to drown out the noise of the world. Hearing it now, like this, felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

I blinked, a single tear escaping down my cheek despite my best efforts to keep my emotions in check. His thumb shifted slightly, brushing the tear away with a tenderness that made my breath catch. “You don’t have to do that,” he murmured, his voice tinged with something I couldn’t quite place—regret, longing, maybe both. “You don’t have to hide how you’re feeling. Not from me.”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as I tried to find the words that would make this moment less unbearable. “It’s not that simple,” I managed, my voice trembling as I spoke. “None of this is simple, Tyler.”

“I know it’s not,” he said quietly, his thumb still resting gently against my jaw. “But that doesn’t mean you have to carry it all on your own. You don’t have to be so strong all the time, Riley. It’s okay to let someone in.”

I shook my head, the motion small but firm, as though it was the only thing keeping me grounded. “I can’t let you back in, Tyler,” I whispered, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to steady it. “Because if I do… if I let you back in, I won’t be able to get back out.”

The words hung between us like a fragile thread, the truth of them raw and exposed. I looked away, my gaze dropping to the floor as I tried to ignore the way his presence seemed to pull me in, like gravity refusing to let me go. My chest felt tight, my breathing shallow, and I could feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over if I wasn’t careful.

Tyler didn’t respond right away, but I could feel him—feel the weight of his gaze on me, the way his towering frame seemed to close the distance between us without him even moving. A moment later, I felt the heat of his breath against my skin, warm and steady, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. His body was now mere inches from mine, close enough that I could feel the faintest brush of his presence, yet still far enough that he wasn’t crossing the line. Not yet.

“Riley,” he said softly, his voice low and rough, like the sound of distant thunder. It wasn’t just my name—it was a plea, layered with all the things he wasn’t saying. The sound of it sent goosebumps racing across my arms, and I hated myself for the way my body reacted, for the way my heart betrayed me by pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

It happened so fast that I didn’t even realize it until we were both connected, his lips on mine as our bodies moved together in a rhythmic, unspoken harmony. The tension that had been building between us for so long finally cracked open, spilling out in waves of heat and desire that neither of us could contain. His hands gripped my waist, firm yet tender, as if he was afraid I might slip away, and I found myself pulling him closer, desperate to feel every inch of him against me.

The world around us seemed to dissolve, the noise, the chaos, the rational thoughts—all of it dimmed until there was nothing but us. His breath mingled with mine as his lips trailed from my mouth to my jawline, down to the sensitive hollow of my neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Each touch, every movement, felt like a spark igniting something deep within me, something I hadn’t realized was there until now.

We moved together, our bodies speaking a language that words never could. It was raw, electric, and unrelenting, as if we were pouring every ounce of the unspoken tension we’d carried for so long into this moment. Hushed moans escaped between stolen kisses, the sound of them reverberating in the stillness around us. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, grounding myself in the reality of what was happening, even as it felt like we were floating somewhere far beyond the confines of this world.

For a fleeting moment, I opened my eyes to look at him. His gaze met mine, dark and intense, filled with something I couldn’t quite name but felt in every fiber of my being. It wasn’t just passion—it was something deeper, something that terrified and thrilled me all at once. And just like that, his lips captured mine again, drawing me back into the storm of us, where nothing else mattered but this connection, this release, this undeniable pull that had finally consumed us both…