I’m dumbstruck, startled by a flame-colored blob flying past me, followed by a taller blob of straw yellow. On a delay, my brain processes that it’s a redheaded girl and a blond boy, their feet tapping a futsal ball, a small, weighted ball meant for practicing touches and control. It’s pretty much perfect if you want to play soccer inside without breaking anything. The ball’s too heavy to get up in the air.
They whip past me, not even noticing I’m there, and disappear into a large open room to the left. There’s a long table with a few people seated at the far end, their hands around mugs of tea as they play a board game. A woman’s silhouette is deeper in the room, tall, with shoulder-length blonde hair. She’s lean and willowy, and when she turns in profile, my heart catches in my throat. I know that nose.
My brain’s in denial. I heard his laugh. She has his nose. But that’s impossible. It’s a coincidence. Ryder’s nose is just…well, it’s a perfect nose. A gorgeous woman would have a perfect nose.
I walk timidly toward the echoing room, as my hands shake. One of the people at the table glances up. A man with dark brown hair and bright green eyes. This time, my heart’s pounding in my ears. I know those eyes, too.
Yes, dummy, you do. They’re Dr. B’s eyes. This guy’s most likely his son, anyway.
The man straightens in his seat, eyes locked on me while he calls, “Mom?”
The woman doesn’t seem to hear him. Her hands and eyes are focused on a food task.
“Mom,” the man says again. There’s a bite to his voice that earns her attention.
Finally, she looks up. I stare at her as nausea churns my stomach. I know so many of those features. I know the tops of those cheekbones. That smooth, tall brow. Those wide-set eyes, except hers are quicksilver blue.
I have to be imagining things. There’s no way, there’s just…
The woman rushes toward me, the urgent set in her features reminding me even more of Ryder. I have to be hallucinating. It’s because I miss him something stupid, because I’m stressed and lonely. I want his tree-branch arms wrapping me in a solid hug, his pine and cedar scent, the whisper of his flannel against my skin, the press of his lips to my crazy hair.
She practically drags me to a seat at the table and sits me down. “There now, sötnos,” she murmurs.
I stare at her dazedly. “What did you say?”
She smiles softly. “It’s just an endearment.” Her voice is tinged with an accent I can’t place. Her vowels are round and lilting, her consonants landing at the front of pursed lips. “Are you okay, Willa?”
I nod slowly as embarrassment burns my cheeks and reality sinks in. God, how embarrassing. I have no business being here. I’m hearing his laugh, seeing his features in these people. I’m imagining all these invisible connections to Ryder, in a roomful of strangers who are trying not to stare at me curiously, but mostly failing.
Elin sets her hand over mine. This is the first I’ve met her, but I’m not surprised she knew who I was. I look just like Mama. I stare at her dumbly, noting that she’s ridiculously beautiful.
“Can I get you anything?” she asks quietly.
A door shuts somewhere nearby, drawing her eyes. They widen, then flick back to me. Before I can answer her, she wraps an arm around me. “You look faint. Would you like to lie down? I have a room next to your mother’s that—”
“No.” I stand shakily but manage to stay upright. “I’ll be okay, thank you, though. I’m so sorry I barged in. I thought…” Mortification tightens my stomach. “I’m going to go.”
I walk backward, knowing I’m being weird and rude. I’m intruding. I’m out of place and emotional. I need to go back to Mama’s and my little cave.
Elin stands, her face pinched with worry. “Please, Willa, just sit here a moment.”
“I can’t.” I start to spin away. “But thank—”
I bump viciously into a wall of very solid human which knocks the wind out of me. As I stumble backward, a hand reaches out and steadies me.
Wait.
Evergreens, warm man, clean soap. It’s Ryder’s scent. I glance down at the man’s feet. It’s his knit socks he always wears. His worn jeans. My eyes travel higher. Flannel. My breath is flying, my heart racing. Higher. Higher. Squirrel tail beard. Perfect Nose. Green eyes.
Tears blur my vision. Ryder’s eyes lock with mine, tight with concern.
“It was you,” I whisper.
I stumble back, out of his grasp. Swinging around, I look at all of them. His family. Their faces resemble his. Guilt. Pity. Sadness. They all know. They’ve been in on this. Turning back to Ryder, I blink rapidly, disbelief rushing through me like a numbing cold.
Peripherally, I hear his mother herd everyone away. There’s a pocket door that she closes, leaving us alone in the entranceway. Even though it’s humongous, the room feels painfully small, the space between us claustrophobic. I have to get out of here. I can’t even begin to straighten this in my head.
Backing away, my hand fumbles for the front door handle. I wrench it open and sprint outside, running as fast as humanly possible. Humiliation, confusion, betrayal, roar in my ears as I round the house. I’ve sat in Mama’s room, staring out of its glass doors enough to know their backyard is flanked by a grove of trees I can disappear into.
I’m sprinting, but I hear footsteps pounding behind me, gaining on me. I’m almost to the trees, so close—
“Willa!”
I gasp, my toe catches in the earth, and I slam to the ground. Staring up at the dusky sky, I gulp like a fish out of water. I had to be imagining it. It couldn’t…it can’t…
Ryder drops over me, his hands whispering over my body, checking for damage. Tears stream down my face as I stare at him. I have never felt this many things at once. When his eyes meet mine again, they’re brimming with emotion, too.
“Ryder?”
He makes a noise I’ve never heard before—a full, pained sound. His palms go to his eyes, wiping them furiously. I sit up and grasp his wrists, the tables somehow turned. Now I’m worried about him. “What is it?”
Ryder’s hands drop, his eyes meet mine. “Beautiful,” he says quietly. His voice is low and gravelly with disuse. It’s velvet stretched across raw wood, hot tea poured over crackled ice. “Your voice, it’s…” His voice gives out and he mouths, then signs it, the word I couldn’t figure out that day we ate outside.
Beautiful.
He can hear. He can speak. How is it possible? Was it the surgery? My confused thoughts dissolve as a sob wrenches out of my chest because suddenly all I can do is feel. Happy for him. Relieved. Insanely desperate to touch him. His voice and emotion feel like a mortar blast that ripped through my ribs and wrecked my heart.
I grab his shirt and yank him toward me. It’s not a kiss. It’s a collision. It’s the smash of one mouth into another, a demand for something I never believed I’d have, desperation for it to be mine. His groan is loud and uninhibited. It echoes in my mouth as his lips meet mine hungrily, as his fingers delve into my hair.
Roughly, Ryder shoves me down, his weight anchoring me against the grass. Elbows framing my shoulders, chest against mine. I push him off enough to gasp for air and grab his face. “Say it again.”