She twists the baseball cap front-ways and lowers it, blocking her eyes from him and everyone else. Her body vibrates with heavier tears, and I’m not sure how to comfort her. She feels like she failed herself, upset that she had a panic attack over paintball guns and caused a scene. Ryke holds her tightly, and her slender arms wrap around his bare chest. An impenetrable stone in a raging storm. That’s what Ryke Meadows has always been.
