“No,” she said. “That’s not it. I would never take a risk with our friendship for those reasons.”

“Nothing’s going to risk our friendship,” he said, his voice rough. “We’ve already been through all the hell a person can go through.”

She found that comforting in a way. More than a way.

Because if they couldn’t be broken outside this bed, through all the things they’d been through in life, then how could they possibly break in it? They were too strong, their friendship was too real. Ryder was and had been everything to her for seventeen years. There was no more defining relationship in her life. He was a man who had moved her from the darkness and into Neverland. But what she was discovering was that eventually everyone had to grow up. And why shouldn’t he be the man to help with that, too? Why shouldn’t he be the one to help her with that here?

It could just be part of who they were. And maybe part of who they were always meant to be.

She had to believe in fate. In the good of the world working to create a better end. That the hands of time had a point and a purpose, and that they were driving everything toward that inevitable place where love would conquer all.

Because wasn’t that every story? Wasn’t that the essence of faith?

A deep, real belief that seemed to grow from the center of the earth and up through the ground. The roots of humanity.

And there were villains; there always would be.

Men like her father who were selfish and wanted nothing to do with the good or beautiful things in life.

But it wasn’t what the world was made of. It wasn’t the deep essence or truth of what it meant to be a person.

And believing that like she did, she had to believe that her life was headed somewhere good.

That it had been from the moment Ryder had reached his hand out to her in that stall all those years ago.

It had to be.

He pulled the covers off them and switched on the bedside lamp.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ve waited seventeen years for it, Sammy. I want to see this happen.”

“You really wanted this?”

“Yes,” he said. “But I didn’t let myself.” That big, heavy hand rested on her breast, slid down her waist, to her hip bone. He moved his thumb up and down slowly, the callus scraping over her tender skin.

“You trusted me then,” he said, his voice rough. “You trust me now. I’m going to take care of you.”

Of course he was. That had always been true. Ryder had taken care of her from the moment she had passed into his sphere. From the moment she had become his responsibility, because it was who he was as a man. She loved that about him.

She squeezed her eyes shut tight, and then opened them again.