When we reach the elevator, I feel his entire body shaking, trembling, ready to fire.

“Ryot.”

“Not right now,” he says, but it’s not in an angry tone. It’s quieter. He hears me, but he doesn’t want to discuss anything yet.

We walk hand in hand to his car where he opens the door for me, helps me in, and then retreats to his side. The entire time, my heart is beating a mile a minute, and my palms are sweaty. It doesn’t feel like I can suck enough air into my lungs because . . . oh my God, I can’t believe Ryot did that.

I can’t believe he put my mom in her place.

He . . . defended me.

Protected me.

Made sure that she will never, ever interfere with my life again.

I’m . . . I’m speechless.

I’m grateful.

I’m overwhelmed because I feel like this is what I’ve been waiting for my entire life, this . . . freedom. She’s not going to bother me. She’s not going to ever touch me again. And that is the most liberating thing I’ve ever felt.

And it’s all because of him.

Ryot climbs into his seat and grips the steering wheel tightly before letting out a deep breath. “Fuck, Myla, I’m sorry.” He’s sorry? What could he possibly be sorry for? He changed everything. In a matter of seconds, this weight that has been heavy on my shoulders, chipped and tarnished from my childhood, was lifted and shattered into the ground. He always said he would help me carry my baggage, but this right here, this was him unloading it forever, and I’m so grateful. He grips the steering wheel tighter. “I wasn’t thinking, but I wasn’t going to sit there and let that piece of shit—”

I swoop across the console, grip both of his cheeks, swivel his head toward me, and kiss him. Hard.

He’s stunned at first, but then when he realizes what’s going on, he slips his hand under my curtain of hair and to the back of my head where he holds me in place.

Tears stream down my cheeks as our mouths clash and collide. His soft lips part and our tongues dance together, reminding me how much I love this man, how much I’ve missed him.

How much I need him.

I part from him, only slightly though. I press my forehead against his and say, “I love you, Ryot. And I’m so sorry for how I treated you this past week.”

“Stop,” he says as his thumb drags over my bottom lip. “I know what can happen when your mind takes over, and you’ve been through a lot.” He cups my cheek. “You’ve been through more than you deserve.”

I grip his hand and hold it close to my cheek, leaning in for support. “It doesn’t excuse treating you the way I did.”

“Myla,” he says, forcing my eyes to match his. “I hear your apology, and I thank you, but I’m telling you right now that I understood where you were coming from. When you’re out of control and it feels like there’s nothing you can do about it, you try to control other things around you. You could control our relationship and, because you didn’t want to be hurt or disappointed again, you stepped back. Found an excuse to end things.”