Chapter 52 52

Chapter 52 52
  ~TESSA~
  We were finally back.
  The Bishop mansion caught the late-afternoon light like something out of a painting.
  You know.... warm, golden, perfect.
  The kind of scene you’d think only existed in memory or probably in movies.
  I stepped out of Debbie’s sleek little coupe with shopping bags dangling from both arms and a half-smirk still lingering on my face.
  Today had been… wild.
  Therapeutic, really.
  I’d stood my ground, again. Against Marcus. Against Clara. 
  Against the version of myself that used to flinch and fold at the first sign of conflict.
  And now?
  I was floating.
  Not because of the designer dress I’d bought. Or the expensive price tags.
  But because of how I felt so strong for once.
  I rounded the corner toward the backyard, and there he was...
  My man... Ryder Bishop.
  Boots kicked up on the edge of a low brick wall. Shirt sleeves rolled. One hand nursing a beer. The other resting lazily behind his head. Watching the sunset like it owed him something.
  I paused a moment just to look at him.
  God, he was dangerous like this... when he was quiet and unguarded. 
  When the hard lines of his body softened just enough for his boyish charm to peek through.
  He looked over.
  Saw me.
  Smirked.
  "Met Clara again, honey," that was the first thing I said.
  “You win the war?”
  “Slaughtered it,” I answered, still walking toward him. “There were casualties. Mostly egos.”
  He stood, slow and casual, and took the bags from my hands without a word.
  “You didn’t have to—”
  “I know,” he said, setting them down and pulling me into him, “but you’re not carrying anything when I’m around.”
  I melted into his chest. My arms curled under his. His chin found the top of my head.
  For a while, we just stood there.
  I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
  “Marcus called me today.”
  He went still.
  Only for a second.
  Then his voice came, low and dangerous.
  “Did he threaten you?”
  “He tried. Debbie verbally roundhouse-kicked him into the next dimension.”
  He chuckled softly, brushing his fingers against the small of my back.
  “I like your sister.”
  “I figured.”
  Silence again.
  Not heavy. Just full.
  And then...
  “You’re glowing,” he said, pulling back just enough to look at me.
  “Must be the overpriced lip balm Debbie made me buy.”
  He shook his head. “Nah. It’s something else.”
  I smiled, leaning up to kiss his jaw.
  “You,” I said. “It’s you.”
  ~
  Later, after Debbie had disappeared inside with her mountain of shopping bags, Ryder and I stayed out on the back porch.
  Yes... just me and my biker boy.
  Between us sat a half-empty bottle of wine, the glasses forgotten as we passed it back and forth.
  “Feels weird,” I admitted, leaning my shoulder against him. “Not looking over mine every second. Not waiting for someone to pop out of nowhere.”
  He tilted the bottle, drank, then handed it to me. “Don’t get too comfortable, baby. Marcus is still breathing.”
  I rolled my eyes. “You sure know how to kill a mood.”
  That earned me the half-smirk. 
  The one I secretly loved more than his smile because it meant he was holding back just for me.
  I sipped, then stared out into the backyard.
  “You know what’s crazy?” I said quietly. “I used to let people like Marcus… and Clara… and even my so-called friends tell me who I was. Like I didn’t get a say in it. Like I was supposed to just... take it.”
  Ryder shifted, his arm coming around my shoulders, pulling me snug against him.
  “And today?” he asked.
  “Today…” I grinned, surprising myself with how good it felt. “…today I told them to go to hell. Out loud. Without shaking.”
  He kissed my temple. “Proud of you, Tess.”
  I looked up at him then, heart tripping. “Yeah?”
  “Yeah. You think I just want some pretty thing clinging to me ‘cause I got a bike and some scars?” His thumb brushed over my cheek. “No. I want a woman who can fight with me. Beside me. Someone who makes me… better.”
  My throat tightened. My chest felt hot. “Ryder—”
  But he didn’t let me finish.
  “I respect you, Tessa.” His voice was rough now, like gravel. “And I love you.”
  The word hung there between us.
  Love.
  For a second, I just blinked, sure I’d misheard. Then I laughed, because it felt so insanely right.
  “Wow,” I teased, even though my heart was racing, “took you long enough.”
  He smirked, leaned down, and kissed me slow.
  “Say it back,” he murmured against my lips.
  “I love you, Ryder Bishop,” I whispered, and meant every word.