A step closer.

Ryder's POV

The silence between us was warm, filled with a strange sense of peace I hadn’t felt in years. Amara’s head rested on my shoulder, and I could feel the soft rhythm of her breathing. It felt fragile, like the moment might shatter if I moved too suddenly or said the wrong thing.

I broke the silence, my voice quiet. “You know, I used to hate the stars.”

She stirred, her head tilting up to look at me. “What? Why?”

“They reminded me of all the things I couldn’t reach,” I admitted, keeping my gaze fixed on the sky. “No matter how much I wanted them, they were always too far away. Untouchable.”

She was quiet for a moment, her eyes softening. “And now?”

I turned to her, my heart aching at the vulnerability in her expression. “Now I think the stars are worth admiring... because they remind me of you.”

Her breath caught, and for a second, I thought she might pull away. But instead, she stayed, her gaze dropping to where my arm was still around her shoulders.

“Ryder,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Why do you say things like that?”

“Because they’re true,” I said simply. “And because I need you to know how much you mean to me.”

Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, and she glanced away, her cheeks flushed. “You confuse me,” she admitted. “One minute, you’re the guy who made my life hell, and the next... you’re this.”

“I’m still me,” I said softly. “But I’m trying to be better. For you. With you.”

Her eyes flicked back to mine, searching, questioning. “You say that, but what if... what if you’re just saying what I want to hear?”

I reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Amara, I don’t expect you to believe me right away. I know I’ve given you every reason not to trust me. But I swear, I’ll prove it to you. However long it takes.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. She looked torn, as if part of her wanted to believe me, and the other part was still clinging to the walls she’d built around herself.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” I asked, my voice laced with nostalgia.

She frowned, her brow furrowing. “Of course I do. You spilled water on me in the cafeteria and then laughed about it with your brothers.”

I winced, rubbing the back of my neck. “Okay, bad example. But do you remember what happened right after?”

She tilted her head, clearly puzzled. “You mean when I stormed out and refused to talk to anyone for the rest of the day?”

I nodded, smiling faintly. “Yeah. You had this fire in you, this strength that I couldn’t ignore. I think... I think that’s when I started noticing you. Even if I was too much of an idiot to admit it back then.”

She blinked, her expression softening despite herself. “You’re so confusing, Ryder.”

“I know,” I said, leaning closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. “But I promise, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you if you let me.”

Her eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, the world faded away. There was only her—the faint scent of lavender in her hair, the warmth of her skin where our hands touched, the soft hitch in her breath as I leaned closer.

“Ryder...” she whispered, her voice wavering.

“I’m not asking for everything,” I murmured, my forehead resting lightly against hers. “Just a chance. Just one.”

Her lips trembled, and I saw the conflict in her eyes—the fear, the hesitation, the faint glimmer of hope she was too scared to admit. Finally, she let out a shaky breath.

“Okay,” she whispered. “One chance.”

Relief flooded through me, and I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “You won’t regret it, Amara. I swear.”

She pulled back slightly, her expression still guarded. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I won’t,” I said firmly. “Not with you.”

The night deepened around us, the stars above shining brighter, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be—with her.

We sat there for hours, talking about nothing and everything—her favorite books, the music that kept her sane, the dreams she’d given up on and the ones she was too scared to chase. And with each word, each shared smile, I felt the walls between us crumble, piece by fragile piece.

By the time the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, I knew one thing for certain:

Amara wasn’t just my mate. She was my everything.

----

The first rays of the morning sun filtered through the trees, casting a soft golden glow over the quiet clearing where we sat. Amara was still nestled beside me, her head resting lightly on my shoulder. We hadn’t moved in hours, lost in our conversation, the world outside fading into nothingness. The night had been long, but it felt like time itself had slowed just for us.

I glanced at her, my heart skipping a beat as I watched her in the soft morning light. Her lashes fluttered, slowly opening to meet my gaze. Her eyes, still a bit hazy from sleep, shone with something I hadn’t seen before—a quiet warmth, a flicker of something vulnerable that she usually kept hidden.

“Good morning,” I whispered, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

She blinked, clearly still processing the fact that the sun had risen. “Morning,” she murmured, her voice soft and raw from the night we’d spent talking.

The silence stretched between us, but it was no longer heavy. It was comfortable, like the air around us had finally settled into something peaceful. She shifted slightly, lifting her head from my shoulder and slowly sitting up, the soft fabric of her sweater grazing my skin. The sunlight hit her face just right, illuminating her features in a way that made her look even more beautiful than I had imagined.

Her gaze met mine, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The connection between us was undeniable, like an invisible thread pulling me closer to her with every heartbeat.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered without thinking, my voice barely above a murmur.

She blushed, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink as she looked away, but I saw the slight smile tugging at her lips. “Stop. You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” I said, reaching over to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. The touch was delicate, like I was afraid to break something fragile. “I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”

She held my gaze for a moment, her expression softening. “You really are something else, Ryder.”

“Yeah?” I smirked, leaning closer, my voice low. “In a good way or a bad way?”

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Definitely in a confusing way.”

I laughed, a genuine sound that felt foreign and freeing. “I guess I’m just going to have to keep being confusing then.”

She rolled her eyes, but I saw the warmth in her smile. There was something about her—something that made me want to be better, to make her feel safe and happy.

For a few minutes, we just sat there, basking in the quiet beauty of the morning, letting the world wake up around us. I could hear the rustling of the trees, the distant calls of birds, but none of it mattered. All that mattered was the girl sitting beside me, her presence enough to fill the empty space in my chest.

“You know,” she said after a while, her voice soft and thoughtful, “I didn’t expect this.”

I turned to her, my heart tightening. “What do you mean?”

“Us. All of this.” She waved a hand between us, her eyes a little distant as she looked at the sunrise. “I thought you were just going to be another guy who ruined my life.”

I winced at her words, but I understood the pain behind them. “I was. And I’m sorry. More than you’ll ever know.”

She met my gaze, her expression more vulnerable than I’d ever seen it. “But you’re not that person anymore?”

“I’m not,” I said firmly, my voice full of conviction. “I’m still figuring things out, but I swear, I’m trying. For you.”

Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something, but the words never came. Instead, she simply reached out, her hand brushing against mine. It was gentle, a silent offering of trust.

I didn’t hesitate. I took her hand in mine, feeling the warmth of her touch seep into my skin. It felt like the simplest yet most meaningful thing I’d ever done.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me right away,” I said softly, watching her closely. “But can we just... take things slow? Let’s just be here, together, and figure it out. One step at a time.”

Amara’s eyes softened, her gaze flicking to our intertwined hands before meeting mine again. There was a flicker of something in her eyes, something that said she might just be willing to let herself trust me again.

“Okay,” she said quietly, the word hanging between us like a fragile promise.

I squeezed her hand gently, a surge of hope flooding my chest. “Thank you.”

We sat there for a while longer, the warmth of the sun and the peaceful quiet wrapping around us like a blanket. It felt like the beginning of something new. Something better. Something real.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe.

With Amara by my side, maybe I wasn’t so broken after all.