Ryder held Isobel close until her laughter softened into quiet tears against his chest. He brushed them away with his thumb, kissed her hair, and then pulled back, eyes still lit with disbelief and fire.
“C’mon,” he said, grabbing her hand. “This ain’t news I can keep to myself. Wren and Rose deserve to hear it straight from me.”
They crossed back to Bella Rose’s trailer, Ryder pushing the door open without ceremony. Inside, Rose sat at Wren’s side, fussing with a damp rag over his chest while he groused good-naturedly. Both of them looked up at Ryder’s entrance.
“Y’all look like somethin’s happened,” Rose said, narrowing her eyes.
“It has.” Ryder’s voice carried that strange blend of Tennessee drawl and clipped New York edge, equal parts grit and velvet. He squared his shoulders, the
