𑣲 Ryland Grace .ᐟ.ᐟ

The lines started to blur when you were a teenager. It was that awkward phase where you felt misunderstood by the entire world, especially your parents, yet Ryland never looked down on you. When you ranted about how unfair life was, he didn’t dismiss you as a dramatic kid, he would sit across from you at his kitchen island, nurse a cup of black coffee and just listen. He looked at you like your thoughts mattered…

It was during those years that you started hanging around his son, Ethan, same age as you, really loud yet you knew he had a kind heart… but you didn’t want to admit that Ethan was just the excuse. You went over to play Mario Kart, you stayed for the moments Ryland would walk through the room, ruffled from a long day of teaching, offering you both slices of apple or asking about your day.

The final nail in the coffin happened the summer you turned twenty. You had come back from your sophomore year of college, feeling all grown-up and independent and went over to Ryland's house to help him assemble a new bookshelf for his classroom.

It was a sweltering July afternoon. He had taken off his flannel, leaving him in just a faded grey t-shirt that clung to his shoulders. As he knelt on the floor, tightening a screw, you watched the way the muscles in his forearms flexed. You noticed the blond in his hair catching the sunlight. You noticed the faint lines around his ocean eyes when he squinted at the instruction manual. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat.

He looked up, caught you staring and gave you that warm crooked smile of his. ”Hand me that allen wrench, would you, sweetheart?”

Your breath hitched. Your stomach dropped to your shoes. Suddenly, the man you had known your whole life wasn't just “daddy’s best friend” anymore. He was a man, a fiercely intelligent, kind, incredibly handsome man who smelled like grapefruit and knew how to fix broken things… compared to the boys your own age, boys like Ethan and his frat bros who were too much, Ryland was everything you suddenly realised you wanted.

You started dressing nicer when you went over, you learned his coffee order by heart. You read books on astrophysics just so you could hold a conversation with him for more than 10 minutes, you spent two years carefully, maybe even desperately laying the groundwork to show him you were an adult who could be on his level. But because you had used Ethan as an excuse to be in Ryland's house, Ryland simply connected the wrong dots. He saw your blushing, your baked goods, your lingering visits, and his fiercely protective single-dad brain came to the most logical yet incorrect conclusion:

She's in love with my son.

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Ryland’s house always felt more like home than your own. It smelled of worn paperbacks, Earl Grey tea, and the faint underlying scent of grapefruit that always seemed to cling to his sweaters. It was a quiet Saturday afternoon. Sunlight streamed through the large bay windows of his living room, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. Ryland was sitting at the kitchen island, his glasses pushed down to the bridge of his nose as he meticulously graded a stack of middle school science fair reports.

You had spent the last two hours baking. Specifically, you had baked a batch of his absolute favourite oatmeal raisin cookies, a recipe you had spent weeks perfecting just to see that soft crinkling smile reach his adorable blue eyes. You pulled the tray out of the oven, the sweet, warm scent of cinnamon filling the kitchen. Carefully, you plated a few of the best-looking ones, poured a mug of his favourite tea and walked them over to the island.

”Thought you could use a break,” you said softly, sliding the plate and the steaming mug next to his elbow.

Ryland paused his red pen mid stroke. He looked down at the plate, then looked up at you. The smile that broke across his face was so genuine, so blindingly warm that it made your chest ache. He took his glasses off, setting them on top of a paper about the solar system and leaned back in his stool, running a hand through his messy hair.

”Sweetheart, you’re an absolute lifesaver,” he groaned happily, picking up a warm cookie. He took a bite, and his eyes fluttered shut in genuine appreciation. ”Lord, these are incredible… ‘n you remembered I don't like too much sugar in them.”

”Of course I remembered,” you replied, your heart doing a hopeful little flip. You leaned against the counter opposite him, hoping he might notice the way you had carefully styled your hair today or the fact that you wore the perfume he had complimented exactly once… three months ago.

Ryland chewed thoughtfully, wiping a crumb from the corner of his mouth. His gaze softened as he looked at you, filled with a deep affection that was completely devoid of the heat you so desperately wanted to see. He chuckled, a rumbling sound in his chest, and gave you a knowing look.

”You know...” he started, his voice dropping to a teasing, hushed tone as he leaned in a little closer over the counter. ”You don't have to keep buttering up the old man. I already like you.”

You blinked, a little taken aback as you felt your cheeks growing warmer. ”What do you mean?”

Ryland’s smile widened into a gentle grin. He reached over, affectionately patting your hand where it rested on the counter, a purely paternal touch that felt like a bucket of ice water over your head.

”Ethan is upstairs taking a shower. He should be down in about ten minutes,” Ryland said, completely oblivious to the way your face fell. He picked up his mug of tea, taking a satisfied sip. ”He's supposed to go to a movie with some friends later, but I bet if you ask him, he'd love for you to tag along. I can even tell him I need the house to myself to grade these papers, if it helps somehow.”

He winked at you, picking up his red pen and sliding his reading glasses back up his nose.

”You're a good girl,” Ryland murmured, his attention already shifting back to the science reports, completely missing the devastated look in your eyes. ”Any guy would be lucky to have you. I'll make sure he knows that, ‘kay? I've got your back.”