Don't call me Sweetheart.

Ryder's POV

The following days were… different. Not perfect. Not easy. But different. Amara didn’t completely shut me out, and that was enough to keep me moving forward. She wasn’t ready to forgive me yet—not fully—but she wasn’t running away anymore either. It was as though we were walking a tightrope, carefully balancing between what we were and what we could become.

This morning, I decided to push my luck.

“Amara,” I called out, leaning casually against my car, waiting for her outside the school entrance. Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing as she spotted me, her lips already forming a protest.

“Ryder,” she said, her tone sharp as a blade. “What are you doing here?”

I smirked, unable to help myself. “Good morning to you too, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed, walking past me with purposeful strides, her bag slung over her shoulder. But I followed, determined to keep pace with her.

“Relax,” I said keeping my tone steady.

----

The walk back home after our small truce was quieter than I expected. Amara walked a step ahead of me, her arms crossed as if trying to shield herself from the weight of whatever she was feeling. I didn’t press her. I didn’t want to scare her off, but the tension between us was unbearable.

When we reached the edge of the woods, I finally spoke. “You don’t always have to be so strong, you know.”

She stopped in her tracks and turned to me, her eyes narrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I held up my hands in defense, stepping closer. “I mean, you don’t have to keep pushing everyone away. It’s okay to let people in.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. “Like you’re one to talk, Ryder. You’re all walls and arrogance. You expect me to trust you, but you can’t even show me who you really are.”

The words stung because they were true. I’d spent so long hiding behind a mask of indifference and bravado, I wasn’t even sure who I was anymore. But for her, I was willing to try.

“You’re right,” I admitted, taking another step closer. “I’ve been hiding. But I’m done with that. You deserve more than just the version of me I show to everyone else.”

Her expression softened, just barely, but her eyes stayed wary. “And what does that even mean, Ryder? That you’re suddenly going to be a better person? For me?”

“For you,” I said softly, “and for myself. Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t care when I do.”

She didn’t respond right away, her gaze flickering between my eyes as if searching for any hint of a lie. I took the chance, closing the remaining distance between us.

“Amara,” I said, my voice low and steady, “I know I don’t deserve your trust. Not yet. But I’m not going to stop trying to earn it. You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like this... like I could be someone better.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. For the first time, she looked vulnerable, her walls cracking just enough for me to see the pain and confusion beneath them.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can let you in.”

I reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Then let me meet you halfway. Let me prove to you that I’m worth the risk.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The wind stilled, the forest grew silent, and it was just us—two broken people trying to piece something together.

She let out a shaky breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

I smiled, a real one this time, and took her hand in mine. “I’ve been told.”

For the first time, she didn’t pull away.

---

Later that night, I couldn’t stop replaying our conversation in my mind. Her words, her expressions, the way her hand fit so perfectly in mine—it was all I could think about. My wolf was unusually quiet, but I could feel his contentment.

I found myself walking to her room without even realizing it. The door was slightly ajar, and I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I should intrude. But then I heard her voice—soft, almost inaudible.

“Why does he have to make this so hard?”

She was talking to herself, her back turned to the door as she sat on the windowsill, her legs tucked beneath her. The moonlight bathed her in a silver glow, and for a moment, she looked almost ethereal.

I knocked lightly, and she turned sharply, her eyes wide with surprise. “Ryder? What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I admitted, stepping inside. “And I thought maybe you couldn’t either.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “You think too much, Ryder.”

“Only about you,” I said before I could stop myself.

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, but she didn’t tell me to leave. Instead, she shifted slightly, making room for me on the windowsill.

I took the silent invitation and sat beside her, the cool night air brushing against our skin. For a while, we didn’t say anything, just stared out at the stars.

“Do you ever feel like you’re fighting yourself?” she asked suddenly, her voice soft.

“Every day,” I admitted. “Especially when it comes to you.”

She glanced at me, her eyes searching mine. “Why me, Ryder? After everything, why do you care so much?”

“Because you make me want to be better,” I said simply. “And because, no matter how hard I try, I can’t stay away from you.”

Her lips trembled, and for a moment, I thought she might cry. But then she did something I didn’t expect. She leaned her head against my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” she murmured. “Not completely.”

“You don’t have to,” I whispered, wrapping an arm around her. “Just let me stay by your side.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, we sat together in silence—not as enemies, not as strangers, but as something in between. Something that might one day become more.