She paused and swallowed. “Until one night it got really bad. Maggie was two, and I was pregnant with Max.”
Ryder’s jaw tightened. But he remained silent.
“I knew I had to leave,” Clare said. “So we ran in the middle of the night.” “My sister helped us. We stayed with her until Max was born. Then I found the library job.”
Her voice grew steadier as she spoke. “It’s been hard being alone with two kids, but it’s better than living in fear.”
“You’re brave,” Ryder said quietly. Clare looked up, surprised by the gentleness in his voice.
“Taking care of them by yourself,” he continued. “Starting over.” “Sometimes I don’t feel brave at all.”
Clare gave a small, tired smile. “But then I look at my kids, and I know I made the right choice.”
She hesitated. “That’s why I was nervous when we first met.”
Ryder already knew what was coming. “Your appearance reminded me of him,” Clare said. “And some of his friends.”
Ryder shifted in his chair. “I understand.”
He finally took a sip of his coffee. “Most people judge me by how I look. Can’t blame them.”
“But you’re different,” Clare said. Ryder looked up.
“I see how gentle you are with the kids. How you really listen when I talk.” She paused.
“Will you tell me about yourself?” Ryder’s shoulders tightened.
His eyes dropped to the black surface of his coffee. “Not much to tell.”
Clare waited. After a long silence, Ryder added, “Been part of a motorcycle club most of my adult life.”
He looked toward the window. “The Angels.”
Clare’s eyes widened. The name needed no explanation.
Ryder immediately looked away. “It’s not important,” he said, his voice suddenly rough. “Just something from before.”
The words settled heavily between them. Clare could see there was an entire life behind that sentence.
A door Ryder was not ready to open. She did not force it.
That mattered to him too. Several days later, late-afternoon sunlight poured through the windows of Clare’s small apartment and stretched long shadows across the worn carpet.
Ryder stood in the center of the living room, his size making the room seem even smaller. Clare had mentioned wanting to rearrange furniture to create more space for the children.
He had shown up with a small toolbox without making a big deal of it. “Just a little to the left,” Clare directed.
Ryder shifted a heavy oak bookcase as though it weighed almost nothing. Children’s books and paperback novels trembled on the shelves.
“Perfect. Thank you.” Maggie sat cross-legged on the couch holding her stuffed rabbit and staring in fascination at how easily Ryder moved furniture her mother had struggled with for years.
Max slept in his bedroom. “Anything else?” Ryder asked, wiping his hands on his jeans.
Clare looked around. “The coffee table. If we move it, they’ll have more room to play.”