Page 34 of Kane

I glare at him. “Good thing you know better.”

His grin widens as he looks at me with that knowing gaze.

Ryder hands me my cinnamon roll, and all the anxiety melts from me damn near instantly. I gently take the bag, letting my touch linger over his for only a moment; and I swear when I stroke my finger over his soft skin, I hear him gasp and the sound goes straight to my dick, which does not help matters.

You’re supposed to be going down, not up! This is not the time or place!

I grunt out a sound of frustration as I turn to the side, if only to nonchalantly adjust my stupid dick; giving Carter, Nash, and a busy Ryder, my back. I head off towards one of the tables in the lobby, not too far from the kiosk, but far enough I know Ryder won’t be able to hear our discussion. Because I know Carter. He’s going to ask questions. Questions I don’t necessarily have the answers to, but even so, I don’t need Ryder to hear how embarrassing and awkward I really am. I’d like to preserve what little magic I get between five and five- fifty five every Tuesday.

I drop into the chair with a sigh as Carter chuckles.

“You like him,” he says the words solidly, and the irony is not lost on me.

“Maybe I do, so what? That means nothing. I like lots of people,” I grumble.

Carter shakes his head. “Name one person you like, Kane.”

“You,” I say, meaning to be a smart ass, but Carter just ignores me.

“I don’t count,” he says matter of factly as I note Nash off to the distance, with his and Carter’s order.

“It’s okay, you know,” he says calmly. I take a long sip of my coffee.

“To be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” I huff out harshly. “That’s ridiculous.”

Nash comes up and sits beside Carter, sliding his coffee to him.

“What’s ridiculous?” Nash asks.

“Nothing,” Carter says, and though part of me is glad he at least knows better enough to keep my shit to himself, there’s also a part of me that sort of wants to know what Nash would say about all of this.

After all, I remember a time when Carter was scared to go after Nash.

So he of all people should understand my predicament.

Out of my peripheral vision I can see Ryder already starting to clean up. I look at my watch, noting it’s five thirty, and my heart sinks. Because as much as I enjoy having Carter here, even if he is annoying me by prodding about my feelings or whatever, I kind of wish I could have spent this time with Ryder myself. Just the two of us.

We sit there in silence, me eating my cinnamon roll with an extra topping of guilt while Carter and Nash sip their coffees and talk between themselves before Nash kisses him and tells him that he’ll be back to pick him up after group. I look to the kiosk, noting Ryder is gone and the lights are dim.

I frown.

“What are you more afraid of?” Carter asks carefully. I glare at him, but he doesn’t seem phased. He keeps going. “That he’ll say no? Or that he’ll say yes?”

I turn to look at him, thinking about his words. And for the first time, I give Carter a truly honest answer.

“That he’ll say yes.”

The words are heavy, but there’s a relief to them, too.

Carter nods, his gaze drifting behind me.

“Well now’s your chance to find out because he’s coming over here right now.”

I turn around quickly to look, noting the sight of Ryder—sans his barista apron and uniform—wearing a dark blue sweater and jeans, and I swear I hear fucking angels sing.

I barely hear when Carter gets up and says he’s going to head down and help Tim set up the refreshments, that he’ll see me downstairs. Because the only thing I can focus on is Ryder, standing before me, above me.