Once all of my shopping is finished, I hurry outside and load my few bags into the car, then head home. It’s already starting to get dark, a reminder that summer is officially over and winter is on the horizon. We don’t get much of a fall here, usually it goes from summer and slams right into winter. I can taste it in the air, it’s here.
Parking in my small driveway, I gather my bags and carry them into the house. When I walk into the living room, I freeze. My body is solid, not out of fear but out of shock. There, sitting on my sofa is Rylan, except it isn’t the man that I have become accustomed to.
He’s holding a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand and I watch as he brings it to his lips, his eyes narrowed on me while he takes a healthy swig. Warning bells ring in my head, red lights flash at the peripheral of my vision. He doesn’t drink. He’s recovering. What the hell is happening?
“Rylan?” I ask on a whisper.
He licks his lips, licking droplets of liquor off of them. I want to kiss him, even though I’m a bit scared of him right now, I want to kiss this man that I’ve missed. He doesn’t make a move, and neither do I. We’re locked into a staring contest. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I’m a bit scared of this stranger sitting across from me.
“I killed them,” he slurs, his eyes shifting to the floor next to my feet.
Setting my bags down on the carpeting, I chance taking a step closer to him. He doesn’t move a muscle. His gaze is still trained on the floor and to the side.
“Who did you kill, Rylan? Are you talking about the drunk driving? That was over five years ago, baby,” I say gently as I continue to slowly move closer toward him.
His eyes lift to mine, and he looks pissed. Angry, and I wonder if he even sees me, or if he’s just reliving his past. “Six years ago, today, it all feels the same. They’re dead because of me,” he growls.
Once I’m in front of him, I sink to my knees and I place my palms on his thighs. “You have to let that go. It’s your past, it isn’t you, not anymore. This isn’t you either,” I practically plead. My eyes are watering, they’re begging, and my words are in a pleading tone.
I need him to be himself.
I need him to be my rock.
I need him.
His gaze stays connected to mine, swirling fire and anger, never leaving nor diminishing. “If you knew, if you knew it all, Channing,” he slurs.
“Tell me then. Don’t keep it bottled up inside, and don’t try to drink it away. It won’t work. It won’t fix anything, it will just be there when you sober up again,” I explain.
He leans a bit closer, his anger filling up the room making it hard to breathe. “I fucking know. I live with it every goddamn day. It never goes away, it never leaves my thoughts. Every waking hour, I think about them.”
“Them? You told me it was a woman,” I whisper.
His gaze cuts to the side before it returns to me. “It was a woman. A pregnant woman.”
I don’t move. His words lingering until my body jolts. “A pregnant woman,” I exhale, my eyes widening with the realization. “Oh God,” I moan.
He smirks, reaching out he cups my cheek. “Ahh, now you understand.” His voice is mocking, soft but not kind in the slightest.
Pushing off of him, I stand to my feet and take a step back. “You’re insinuating that all of this, you being with me is because you killed a woman and her unborn child in a drunk driving accident,” I state.
His smirk widens and I want nothing more than to slap it off of his smug face. I shake my head. “I don’t believe you,” I announce.
“Yeah? Then you’re dumber than I fucking thought,” he bites.
My heart aches from his words. He’s throwing punches and hitting harder than I ever thought possible. I remind myself that he’s drunk. He’s fallen off of the wagon and this is the first time he’s had a drop in over five years. There’s a reason for it, and I have a feeling that reason is possibly an anniversary.
My front door suddenly opens, and I jump, turning around to see Wyatt standing there.
“Fuck,” he hisses.
“Oh great, the golden cousin. The perfect man. Hey, maybe you can take Channing and be a fucking knight in white armor. Take care of her and her baby, I know that’s what you want. You would both be better off.”
I open my mouth to say something but Wyatt beats me to it. “Go fuck yourself, Rylan. We all have our issues. You’re in love with Channing, so stop acting like a fucking asshole. Get your shit together not only for this baby and her but for yourself. This is a sad fucking day, but guess what? You’re not the one who is dead. I thought you were going to do right by them? I thought you were going to change, to be better so that it wasn’t all for nothing?” he asks.
My heart slams against my chest, it beats so hard that it aches. Lifting my hand, I press it against the pained spot, rubbing to try to ease the hurt that is starting to pulse throughout my entire body. “Why should I try? Every year I will just keep feeling this way,” Rylan grunts.
“For us,” I say, keeping my voice low.
Rylan’s eyes move over to me and connect to my own. Something ugly crosses his face, his lips turn into a snarl, and I know he’s going to say something to hurt me, possibly devastate me. I brace myself, waiting for his words to come.
“There is no us, Channing. I thought I could save you to make myself feel better, but it doesn’t work like that. I get it now.”
Wyatt slips his hand around my waist and gently tugs me away. My entire body starts to shake as tears begin to fill my eyes and fall down my cheeks. Rylan flinches but otherwise doesn’t say or make any other expression.
“Leave him alone, Channing. If he wants to fuck up his life, let him. There’s no saving people from themselves.”
Wyatt turns me around and guides me out of the house. I allow him to walk me over to his truck. It’s parked crooked against the curb. He rushed over here. He knew what today was, and I have a feeling he knew this was what Rylan was going to be doing this evening.
“Did you know he was going to be drinking?” I ask once we’re both in the pickup.
Wyatt starts the engine and I watch his hands grip the steering wheel tightly. Tears are falling down my cheeks in a steady stream, but I’m not sobbing or making any other noises. My body trembles slightly, as I wait for him to speak.
“We got into a fight. I hoped he wouldn’t go do, exactly what he did. Today is the anniversary, I didn’t expect him to really start drinking though,” he mutters.
I turn my head to look back at the duplex as Wyatt drives away. “He’s not lost completely. He’ll pick himself back up,” I say trying to convince him, and myself.
“Don’t hold your breath, Channing. It’s better he did this now, rather than after the baby is here and you are dependent on him.”
Bringing my feet up into the seat, I press my cheek against my knees and stare out the passenger window. Doesn’t Wyatt know? Doesn’t he realize? I’m already dependent on Rylan. I’m in love with the asshole.
“You can stay with me for as long as you like. I have an extra room, and I won’t charge you rent or anything.”
Lifting my head, I turn to him. “Why? Why would you offer that? You don’t really know me,” I say, wondering if Rylan isn’t right. Does Wyatt have some thing for me? Does he want to be my savior too?
Wyatt shrugs, but he doesn’t look at me. He continues to drive toward his house. “Rylan made you promises. I know he was going to take some financial burden off of you. I know you want to move, and you have a baby coming. All that shit takes money. You want to be my roommate while you save up a little, that’s fine by me.”
“Just your roommate, right?” I ask.
His head and the truck move so quickly it makes me queasy. He slams on the brakes and his eyes meet mine. “What he said isn’t true. I don’t want you. I have some shit in my past and that’s what he’s talking about. We all have demons and unfortunately Rylan and I share one thing in ours,�
�� he explains.
“What’s that?” I chance asking when he doesn’t say anything further.
His eyes darken and his head dips slightly. “Dead babies.”
I gasp, staring into his eyes, trying to see inside of him. He’s got his walls built up so high that there’s no way to get behind them. A wave of sadness rolls through me at the thought. “Different circumstances, end results the same. Except the mother in my case lived just fine. That’s why I’ll help you, and because you don’t deserve the shit James or Rylan shoveled on you.”
“And nothing more?” I ask.
He smirks. “And have Rylan kill me? Nah, I’m good. You’re sweet Channing, but I like my throat uncut,” he winks.
I watch as he shifts the truck back into drive, then continues on toward his house. I can’t stop thinking about his words, about Rylan and the pregnant woman he killed. Everything swirls around in my mind and I wonder if I can forgive him for his transgressions. He can’t even forgive himself, but can I?
RYLAN
Channing and Wyatt walk out of the duplex and I ball my fist in anger as the door closes behind them. That’s the way it should be though, shouldn’t it? And if it is, why am I so fucking pissed off right now? I don’t deserve her, I’ve known it since the moment I laid eyes on her. I know that Wyatt will be good to her, he deserves her. I know all of this, yet I still want her.
I bring the bottle to my mouth, but I don’t tip it back, or drink. Instead, I throw it as hard as I can toward the front door. I watch with satisfaction as it slams against the white painted door, breaking into a dozen pieces and the liquor slides down and onto the entryway.
Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back against the sofa. Fuck. I’m a fuck up.
Eventually, I fall asleep. When I do, I’m thrust back into the driver’s seat of my car, six years before.
Lifting my hand to my face, I slap myself while I chuckle. “Goddamn, I’m fucked up,” I mutter to myself.
I thought I was good to drive. I try to count back how many shots I had over at Big Tommy’s place. I delivered my cash from my sales and we partied a little—or maybe a lot. Laughing again to myself, I can’t remember.
I probably shouldn’t be behind the wheel.
That’s the last thought that I have before my car hits something. I don’t know what it is, but whatever it is, it’s fucking huge. My entire body moves inside of the vehicle and it comes to a crashing halt. My head hits the steering wheel. The world goes black.
I’m not sure how long I’m out. When I finally come to, I lift my head from the steering wheel and look around. There are headlights shining in my eyes. I lift my hand to cover the bright glare as I look around a little more, my eyes focusing. I hit a car. Head-fucking-on.
Quickly, I climb out of the car and rush over to the other one. There is smoke coming from the engine. That can’t be good, I walk over to the driver’s side to see someone is inside. When I look in, my stomach rolls.
A woman is in the front seat, her neck bent at an awkward angle. She isn’t moving, and when my eyes roam down the rest of her, I notice that she’s heavily pregnant. There is blood pooling between her legs. I let out a sob at the sight before I turn and heave onto the asphalt road.
Digging my phone out of my pocket I call 9-1-1.
I jerk awake and sit straight up. I haven’t had that dream in well over a year. Lifting my hands to my face, I scrub them down, wiping the tears that leaked from my eyes while I was asleep. Burying my face in my hands, I lean forward. My shoulders shake as I allow myself to cry. I mourn the lives that I took five years ago. I mourn the future that was so close I could practically taste it. I mourn everything. Fuck.
Chapter Twenty-One
CHANNING
One.
Two.
Three days.
That’s how long it’s been since I’ve seen Rylan. The first day, I went to bed in Rylan’s old bed. I curled into a ball in Wyatt’s guest room and didn’t come out until the next morning. Wyatt knocked on my door, informed me that he was going to the duplex to pick Rylan up and I was welcome to join him so that I could shower and dress there. He also suggested that I pack a bag.
I didn’t argue or even say much of anything. I followed him, except when we arrived at the duplex, Rylan was nowhere to be found. Wyatt asked me to pack my things and go to his house after work. Again, I didn’t argue. I packed a bag with enough clothes and things for a week.
My house was left undamaged, I was surprised. I don’t know why, but I figured Rylan would be someone who destroyed property when he was angry. I was glad that he wasn’t. I wanted my full deposit back next month when I was out of this place, and now officially homeless since I already gave my landlord my notice.
Lulamae and Clarence both gave me a wide berth the first day back. They could tell something was wrong, but they didn’t ask me about it, and I was glad for it. I worked, kept my head down, and just did what I needed to do to make it through each and every day.
Now, three days later and I’m feeling worse, not better. My heart is in a constant aching state. It feels like it will never heal, it only hurts more and more with each passing day. Leaving the diner, I drive straight back to Wyatt’s.
Tomorrow is my day off, and I have another doctor’s appointment, but tonight I just want to sleep. I feel better when I’m lost in my dreams. Life doesn’t seem so bleak there. It doesn’t seem like everything is constantly crashing around me. It doesn’t feel like the happiness I thought I had was ripped from me and shredded into a million tiny pieces.
The house is empty when I walk inside. I’m not surprised, Wyatt works long hours, usually around twelve hours a day. I’ve discovered that I’m home alone quite often. In fact, I think that he works more than Rylan ever did, or maybe he’s just avoiding me. I walk into the kitchen and quickly make myself a peanut butter sandwich, before making my way back to my bedroom.
This small space is the only place that feels like home, and I know for a fact it’s all in my head. This was where Rylan stayed when he lived here. He slept in this bed, with these sheets, and I feel closer to him when I do the same. It sounds silly, I know, but I can’t help it.
Stripping out of my clothes, I slide between the sheets and bring the blankets all the way up to my neck. Curling into a ball, I close my eyes and I attempt to sleep. It’s been coming less frequently, no matter how tired I am, I just kind of stare into space lately. This time I must be tired enough because darkness takes over and I fall asleep almost instantly.
Something startles me, and I open my eyes, but the room is shrouded in darkness. It takes me a few moments for my eyes to adjust and when they do, I realize what’s woken me. There standing across the room from me, just watching me sleep, is Rylan.
He doesn’t say anything. His eyes focus on me as he strips out of his clothes. My breath hitches when I see his naked body. His ink-covered torso is a sight for sore eyes. Two weeks away on storm and three days of his disappearing act have felt like a lifetime.
I should tell him to turn around and get the hell out of my room. I should, but the pain beneath his eyes, it stops me from being angry with him. Sitting up, I keep the sheets clutched to my chest with one hand, with the other I reach out toward him, my palm up as my offering.
He takes my hand, and my offer, silently reaching out for me as his feet move his naked body in my direction. Once he reaches the bed, he sinks to his knees on the mattress in front of me. I expect him to rip the sheets off of my body, but he doesn’t.
Rylan cups my cheeks in his hand, dipping his head close to mine and presses his lips to my own. I inhale his scent, taking him in and sighing when his smell hits me. I’ve missed it. I’ve missed him. He doesn’t deepen the kiss and I find myself slightly disappointed in that fact.
“I fucked up,” he rasps, breaking the kiss. His eyes search my own from just a few inches away. “I went to some meetings. I fell off the wagon for a day, and I didn’t like how that felt. Wyatt was rig
ht. He knew I would feel like fucking shit if I bought that bottle of booze, and even bigger shit if I drank it. He was right. I said things…” His words trail off.
Releasing the sheet, I lift both of my hands to his wrists. Wrapping my fingers around his wrists, I squeeze. “Do you love me, Rylan?” I ask.
He jerks his head slightly but keeps his gaze on mine. “I’m a fuck up, Channing,” he murmurs.
I nod. “Yeah, you are,” I agree. He frowns and I move a little closer toward him. Sliding my nose alongside his own, I whisper. “Do you love me?”
He grunts. “Yeah, sweetheart. I fuckin’ love the goddamn shit out of you,” he admits.
Pressing my lips against his, I let out a long sigh. “Thank God,” I breathe.
“Why?” he asks, his voice soft and barely above a whisper.
Moving my lips alongside his jaw, I work my way over toward his ear. “It would be awful to feel this miserable the last three days for a man who didn’t love me,” I murmur.
He shakes his hands from my grasp, then wraps his fingers around my hips. His lips slam against my own. I groan as his tongue slips into my mouth. He consumes me, his kiss hot, wet, and hard. Lifting my arms, I slide my hands around his shoulders, my nails digging into his flesh.
Rylan grunts as he breaks the kiss, his lips traveling down my throat. I whimper when his lips find one of my nipples and he kisses me there, his tongue gently tasting me. Tipping my head, our eyes lock as he tastes my breast. He feasts on me, it’s teeth, sucking, tongue, and heat. I bite my bottom lip, trying to keep the loud moans that naturally form, from escaping.
“Shit,” he growls against my skin.
Shifting one of my hands, I slide my fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands. He stops, pulling away from me slightly. “I can’t forgive you immediately,” I announce.
CONVICT: An Unfit Hero Novel Page 16