Page 31 of Straight to You

RYDER

L ogan was supposed to call me by now.

I stare at my phone again, willing it to light up with his name.

The rational part of my brain keeps insisting his meeting is probably running late.

He didn’t know exactly how long it would be, just said ‘lunch time’ and that he’d call me when he’s on his way home, but it feels like it should be over by now.

It’s not like Logan to forget to check in. Especially not now, not with everything going on. I know he’s as worried about me as I am about him.

His being at the office today has made me even more painfully aware of how much our dynamic has shifted. We used to go days—hell, even a whole week, Friday to Friday—without seeing each other, and it never felt like this.

Now it feels like someone’s ripped a piece of my heart out, and I’m just waiting for it to return.

I’ve never missed anyone like this. Never felt this kind of ache.

And yeah, it’s probably a little crazy missing him this much after a few hours apart, but I can’t stop the emotions running through me .

Maybe if the stakes didn’t feel so high, I wouldn’t be this anxious. But the apartment is too quiet and empty without him, and all I want is for him to come home now.

“I’ll check in,” I mutter to myself, grabbing my phone and typing out a quick text.

Ryder:

Hey, everything okay? Meeting running long?

I stare at the message, my thumb hovering over the send button. He should’ve called by now, so I hit send, then toss the phone onto the couch like it might explode—anything to keep myself from staring at it, waiting for those three little dots to appear.

It’s not lost on me that when the emails started, I thought I could handle this situation on my own, and now I can’t stand being alone for even a few hours.

I honestly thought it would be no big deal and that I was being overly dramatic by involving Logan.

But, like always, he didn’t act like it was an inconvenience at all; he just stepped right in and held me together when I didn't know how to hold myself. We’ve always been good at showing up for each other. That part hasn’t changed.

But it feels different now because I’m in love with him.

Not an I care about you love or best friend love.

It’s deeper. It’s visceral and all-consuming and constant.

Now it feels like something fundamental in me has shifted, and I can’t imagine a world where he’s not right here next to me, touching me, kissing me, calming me with nothing more than a look, and I miss that today.

Logan isn’t just my best friend. Or my boyfriend. Or a part of my life .

He’s my whole world.

My safe place, my constant, my home.

My everything.

My person.

I hear my phone buzz, and I grab it at lightning speed, but it’s just a regular, non-stalkery email. I let out a shaky breath and remind myself that he will call when he’s done.

Sitting here alternating between staring at the door and my phone isn’t going to help, though, so I force myself to get up and try to focus on work.

Taking my phone with me, I head into the closet but keep the door open so I can hear Logan coming home.

There’s no way I’m in the right headspace to record anything, but I can at least prep and take notes.

I grab the book I’ve been reading all morning, which is the next one on my schedule to narrate.

About ten minutes later, I hear the front door close, and the relief that rushes through me is instant.

It feels like for the first time all day, I can finally breathe again knowing Logan’s back.

I drop the book and nearly trip over my own feet running out of the closet, heart pounding as I hurry to the main living area, ready to collapse in his arms. The stress of being apart was too much.

I turn the corner, already halfway through a breath meant to say ‘I missed you so much, never leave me again,’ but the second my eyes land on the person near the door, the words die in my throat.

It feels like the floor drops out from under me.

My heart stops, and panic fills my lungs because it’s Kyle. Not Logan. Kyle is here, standing inside Logan’s apartment.

He’s wearing a dark zip-up hoodie, and he looks...unhinged. Hair messy, eyes wild, and there’s a smear of blood on his face that makes my stomach twist .

And he’s smiling expectantly at me.

“Hey, Ryder,” he says, far more calmly than he looks. “I thought we could finally talk,” he says, stepping closer to me. “Just the two of us.”

My body goes ice cold, and I step back until I hit the wall behind me.

Fuck, where is Logan? And why the fuck is Kyle here instead of him?

Panic coils in my chest, but I need to tamp it down. I need to breathe and get him the fuck out of here.

“Leave,” I snap, finally finding my voice. “Get the fuck out!”

Kyle stands there, watching me. His gaze rakes over me slowly, and I feel so violated. “But I came all this way to see you, angel.”

My chest heaves, and I need to get my phone. Why the fuck didn’t I bring it out here with me?

“Get. Out,” I force out, trying to make him understand just how much I don’t want him near me or in Logan’s apartment.

But as usual, he smirks at me.

“I’m here for you. We can finally be together now.”

I react on instinct, moving toward him to slam my fist into his face with as much force as I have.

Kyle stumbles back a step, hand flying to his cheek, and I swing again, but he dodges it this time and grabs me, ramming his shoulder into my ribs and slamming me into the wall.

I grunt, twisting to get out of his grip, but he’s strong and entirely fueled by his sick obsession.

“The fuck is wrong with you two punching me in the face?” he seethes, starting to get angry now.

Before I even have time to process what he said, I bring my leg up to kick him in the ribs since I can’t get out of his hold.

It’s enough to make him flinch and gives me an opening to free myself so that I can tackle him to the ground.

We hit the floor hard, and I scramble to recover on top of him, punching him repeatedly anywhere I can reach, and blood starts pouring out of his nose.

“You don’t get to show up here!” I snarl, not stopping. “You don’t get to fucking claim me! I don’t want you.”

Kyle bucks his hips hard and uses the momentum to flip us, slamming me onto my back. The breath wooshes out of my lungs as he ends up on top of me, pinning me to the floor. Then, he reaches behind him, and his hand comes back around, holding a knife.

The blade is covered in blood, and before I know it, it’s pressed to my throat, and I freeze instantly.

“Stop,” he breathes. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“Get off me,” I hiss, but my voice trembles with the threat of the knife against my skin.

He leans in closer, and I want to shove him off me, but I don’t trust him not to stab me. “I didn’t want it to be like this, but you’re not listening. I’m trying to show you how good we can be. You belong with me, angel.”

My mind is a chaotic mess of fear and fury, but my body’s still frozen beneath him.

I want to shove him off of me, but the bloody blade doesn’t waver, and the look in his eyes tells me he’s not bluffing.

He’s so calm, it’s unnerving, almost like everything is unfolding exactly how he imagined it would.

I can’t help but wonder if he’d slit my throat if he claims to want me, but I have a feeling that wouldn’t stop him.

He shifts his weight, still keeping the knife steady as he reaches into the back of his waistband, and that’s when I see a gun. He lifts it slowly, replacing the knife with cold metal as he presses the barrel against my side.

“Now,” he says calmly, leaning over me, his face inches from my own. “You’re going to get up and walk to the door. And you’re not going to scream or try anything stupid.”

I stare at him, barely breathing.

“I didn’t want it to be like this,” he whispers, repeating his words from moments ago. “But you made me do this. If you’d listened, none of this would be happening.”

The tenderness in his voice makes bile rise in my throat.

He pushes off me and yanks me up by the arm, the gun now hidden in the space between us, pressed tightly to my ribs. I stagger, legs unsteady as the room tilts around me. My entire body is shaking as he drags me, step by step, toward the door.

I walk because I have no other choice.

“Shh, angel, not one fucking word,” Kyle whispers, brushing his lips too close to my ear. “You’re safe now. I’ll take care of you.”

I walk out the apartment door, even as my mind screams at me not to, because right now, surviving means waiting for a better chance.

I need Logan desperately. Why isn’t he here yet?

A broken sob leaves me despite my best effort to hold it in, and Kyle’s fingers tighten at the sound. “You’d better be quiet,” he whispers. “Or what happens to you will be so much worse than your manipulative little friend bleeding out in a parking lot. Don’t make me do that to you, too.”

What?

“What the fuck did you say?” I choke out, my voice cracking as my feet stop moving. I’m stunned still because there’s no way Logan is bleeding out in a parking lot right now while I can’t do a damn thing to help him.

But, as usual, Kyle smirks at me without giving me an answer.

I feel sick. Is Logan bleeding out somewhere while I’m unable to get to him? Is that why he hasn’t called? Is that why he’s not here right now?

My vision blurs with tears I refuse to let fall while he’s watching. My whole body is shaking, and I feel like I’m splintering apart from the inside out as panic floods every cell in my body.

Please be okay. Please be alive. Please. I need you. I love you.