CHAPTER 4
ISABELLE
I shove my sandy hair off my face and sigh. Ryder and I have been in the bedroom all day, and he hasn’t touched me once. Not that I want s*x, but a comforting hand on my shoulder would be nice. With every moment that passes, I feel more uneasy.
I watch him smooth the map over the bedspread; he leans closer to mark a road in red ink. “Ry?”
He doesn’t look up. He squints harder at the map, illuminated by the murky light from the window, the glass coated in a fine sheen of dust that probably feels sticky to the touch.
The silence stretches. Can he really be pissed about me about Blade? It doesn’t make sense. We all have a past, and I didn’t beg them to spirit me away on their bikes the night we met. They took that on themselves. Just because I might have bent the truth
