by K. Street
I’ll take Sad Country Songs for two hundred, Alex.
The only thing missing was a cheating wife or crazy ex-girlfriend.
Thankfully, I had neither.
Before my parents’ deaths, I had been different.
Back then, life was all about art, making money, and getting laid. I didn’t do feelings because feelings often led to complications and being tied down. I was young and carefree with my entire life ahead of me.
Until the accident.
The shift from big brother to guardian was quite the adjustment. One I didn’t handle well. My methods of coping weren’t exactly ideal. It had taken me a few months before I finally got my shit together.
Zeke’s well-being took precedence over everything else.
That didn’t really bode well for a relationship—not that I’d really tried. I had yet to meet anyone I thought was worth the risk.
There weren’t a lot of women out there who wanted a ready-made family.
One day, he’d be older. Not as needy.
The responsibility wouldn’t feel quite so heavy.
For a split second, I entertained the idea of heading out to a club, but a random hook-up didn’t hold the appeal it once had.
Instead, I dropped my head to the back of the sofa and closed my eyes.
Visions of Presley played behind my lids.
Beautiful and feisty. Though she seemed to hold back a little. Caught between being prim and proper and unleashing on me.
I knew she’d had plenty more to say when I encountered her in Mimi’s hallway. What she thought of me had been written all over her pretty face. In the hours since our confrontation, memories from that night long ago had risen to the surface. Still, I did my best to shove them away. But sitting here alone made it damn near impossible.
My phone pinged with a message notification. I lifted my head and snatched my cell from the arm of the couch. I swiped my thumb over the screen and read the text from Presley.
Presley: I’ll accept the dinner invite. I have one condition though.
My fingers tapped out a response.
Me: Name it.
Presley: I want to see Mary.
Regardless of what had happened in the past, I needed Presley to know the truth. If showing her my artwork would grant me the chance to explain why I’d left the way I did, then it was a no-brainer.
Me: That’s it?
Presley: Yes.
Me: Done.
Presley: That was easy.
Me: Thank you.
Presley: You’re welcome.
Presley: Hey, Ryder?
Me: Yeah?
Presley: Don’t make me regret this.
Me: I won’t. I promise.
It was a promise I intended to keep. Normally, I didn’t give a shit what people thought about me. For some reason, Presley’s opinion mattered.
Anger, though restrained, had been her dominant emotion, but I hadn’t missed the flash of hurt in her eyes. Knowing that I had been the cause of it made my gut twist. I would find a way to make it right.
Six
Presley
My phone rang from where it sat on my nightstand.
I strode across my bedroom to answer it.
An automatic smile tipped the corners of my mouth as I looked at the image of me and my best friend—eyes crossed, tongues out.
I swiped my finger over the glass and then lifted the cell to my ear.
“Hi,” I greeted my best friend, Layla.
“Hey there, bestie. Tonight’s the night, huh? Are you excited?” she asked, referring to my dinner plans with Ryder.
“I’m not sure excited is the right word. I still can’t believe I agreed to this.”
Layla knew all about Ryder. The good and the asshole.
“Just keep an open mind and hear the man out before you completely dismiss him. He might not be the douche canoe you think he is.”
“Maybe.”
“Think about it. This could be fate.” She sighed the sigh of girls who still believed in Disney magic and happily ever afters.
“Aw, bless your little hopeless-romantic loving heart.”
“You’re always so skeptical. I’m telling you, the universe wants this.”
“Or it could be the universe screwing with me.”
“Well, at least you’d be getting screwed.”
Even though she couldn’t see me, I still rolled my eyes. “Very funny.”
“I speak the truth. Your vag is probably covered in cobwebs.”
“I’ll have you know—”
“Bob doesn’t count, my friend,” she interjected.
“Can we move on from the state of my lady bits, please?”
“Fine,” she huffed. “I’m just saying, some non-battery-operated action isn’t a bad thing. Also, be sure to groom the southland. You don’t want to scare the man off.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Oh, please. We both know I’ll just call back. Now, what are you going to wear?”
I padded back over to the closet, where I had been standing before she called. “I have no idea. Ryder told me to dress comfortably, but he refused to tell me where we’re going.”
“Hmm. Any contenders?”
Hangers screeched as I shifted through my choices.
“Well, every article of clothing I own either screams schoolmarm or college kid living off ramen.”
“Like your parents would have let you live off ramen.”
“True. Mother never would have allowed it. Too many carbs.”
Layla’s laughter floated through the line.
I rifled a little more. My fingers brushing from one fabric to the next. “Ugh!” I groaned my frustration.
“Jeez, you’re wound tight. Seriously, if Ryder wants you to ride him, do it. You could use the stress relief.”
“Ha. That’s not going to happen.”
“We’ll see.”
The faint yet distinct sound of car horns and sirens blared over the line.
“Focus, please. What am I going to wear?”
“Matching bra and panties.”
“Layla,” I whined.
“Wear something cute but casual and then dress it up.”
“Okay …” I trailed off as I shifted through my limited options once more. “Oh, this might work.”
“Not helpful. I can’t see what this is.”
“A spaghetti-strap, cream-colored linen jumpsuit with dark blue vertical pinstripes.”
“Sexy and classy. Also comfortable. My work here is done. Send me pictures. And remember what I said. Give him a chance. He could be the one.”
I snort-laughed. “The one? You’re ridiculous. The idea that there is one perfect person for everyone is simply a wishful notion perpetuated by the billion-dollar romance industry.”
“Since when did you become such a cynic? You love reading those romance novels as much as I do.”
“Yes, but I’m also a realist.”
“A real pain in my ass, but I still love you. Call me tomorrow.”
“I will, and I love you more.”
I disconnected the call and then snatched my navy ballet flats and a matching elbow-length shrug from its hanger to go with it. I hadn’t mentioned the shrug to Layla only because she would have vetoed it in a hot second.
I abandoned the outfit and my cell on my bed before I headed into the bathroom to tackle my hair.
It had been several months since I had gone on a date and with good reason. The last one had been a disaster of epic proportions.
After weeks of being relentlessly badgered by my mother, I’d conceded to having dinner with the son of one of her partners at the law firm. Apparently, some guys thought having four names and a shit-ton of Roman numerals following the last one not only gave them a free pass to be rude assholes, but they also had the misconception that it afforded them certain privileges. Me and the Christian Louboutins I had borrowed from my mother for the occasion proved otherwise.
Thi
ngs had been pretty awkward for her at the firm after the incident, but on the bright side, she’d stopped trying to control my love life.
I stared at my reflection and reminded myself, It’s dinner. Not a date.
Regardless, that clarification did little to lessen the knot of anticipation twisting my gut.
When the doorbell rang an hour later, I looked more put together, at least on the outside. My long brown hair hung in loose waves cascading over my shoulders. I’d kept my makeup light and natural. Mainly because no matter how many video tutorials I sat through, pulling off winged eyeliner without it looking as though it had been applied by a team of drunken elves was never going to happen.
I reached for the egg-shaped mint lip balm off my bathroom counter, twisted off the lid, and swiped it over my lips before putting it back in its place.
After one last long glance in the mirror, I pulled in a few deep breaths. Then, I answered the door.
“Hi,” I greeted Ryder.
“Hey, Presley.” He raked his eyes down my frame in slow appreciation before meeting my gaze. “Wow. You look amazing.”
His compliment sent heat rushing to my cheeks.
“Thank you.”
It was my turn to take him in.
My stare moved over him.
His dark hair looked like he’d just finished running his fingers through it.
Sexy stubble peppered his jaw. I still remembered how warm and rough it had been against my skin.
He’s an asshole, I reminded myself. Albeit a sexy one.
The fitted olive T-shirt he wore made the green of his eyes sharper somehow.
My gaze dropped lower to his dark jeans and deck shoes before returning to his handsome smirking face.
“Finally done checking me out?”
I rolled my eyes and reached for my purse hanging from the coat rack. “Are you always this cocky?”
“Maybe.”
I locked the front door and followed Ryder to his truck.
He opened my door and waited until I climbed inside and buckled my seat belt before shutting it.
“Where are we going?” I asked as he got into the truck, put on his seat belt, and started the engine.
“I think I’ll torture you a little longer.” He flashed his dimples and then backed out of the driveway. Once the truck was in drive, he glanced over at me. “How’ve you been?”
Aside from the short texts we’d exchanged, we hadn’t talked much.
“Are we really doing the small-talk thing?”
“Humor me.”
I assessed him from my passenger-side perch. Deciding we would be spending the next however long together, I did as he’d asked. “What do you want to know?”
“How was your week?”
“It was good. I got a lot done.”
“Such as?”
“Grocery shopping. Organizing my closet. Buying a bed. Rearranging the living room furniture a dozen times. You know, exciting stuff.”
“You bought a bed?”
I laughed. “Of course that’s the detail you would focus on. What about you? How’s Mary Poppins?”
“Almost finished.”
“I can’t wait to see her.” The realization struck me that he might not want me to see his work before it was completed. “Are you okay with me seeing her? I mean, since she isn’t finished yet. I sort of bullied you.”
“Do I strike you as one of those brooding artistic types?”
“No, I suppose not.”
“Good. Your excitement is cute. Now, tell me about this bed.”
Laughter bubbled out of me.
This was the Ryder I remembered.
My phone rang from inside my purse. “Sorry,” I apologized to Ryder and then pulled it out.
Mom flashed on the screen. I sent the call to voice mail and then relaxed against the seat.
He glanced at me. “You could’ve taken that, you know.”
“Nah.” I gave a dismissive wave. “It was my mom. I’ll call her tomorrow,” I told him, not entirely sure if I would.
I tossed my phone back into my bag.
We had been driving for about ten minutes when Ryder pulled the truck to a stop.
A view of the Atlantic Ocean was stretched out before us.
“Wow. It’s beautiful,” I voiced the thought aloud.
“Living so close to the beach never gets old. Except during active hurricane season.”
My eyes went wide.
Shit. I forgot about those.
“Hurricanes? Right. I, um … didn’t really factor them into my decision to relocate.”
He killed the engine. “Don’t look so terrified. It doesn’t really matter where you live. Volcanos. Blizzards. Wildfires. Mudslides. There is always the potential for a natural disaster.”
“Thanks. That makes me feel so much better.” My sarcasm was impossible to miss.
A teasing smirk played on his lips. “You’re welcome.”
I glanced out the windshield to the immense body of water. “Are we catching our dinner?”
“No. I thought we could talk first. There is something about the vastness of the ocean that makes difficult conversations a little easier.”
“Ryder, we do not have to do this.”
“Yes, we do. Maybe it’s just as much for me as it is for you,” he admitted. “Come on. Let’s go down by the water.”
Ryder pulled the keys from the ignition, unfastened his seat belt, and got out.
I stowed my purse beneath the seat and followed suit.
The salty sea air filled my lungs as we made our way to the shoreline.
He toed off his shoes, and I did the same.
We wandered along the shore. Our bare feet cushioned by the wet sand.
I gave Ryder time to find his words, letting the crashing waves and the cry of gulls fill the silence.
“That night,” Ryder began, “after we …” He let the unspoken words hang in the air. “You were out cold. At some point, I must have dozed off. I got up to use the bathroom. On the way back to bed, my phone rang.”
Dread settled in my core.
“I didn’t recognize the number, but there was something in my gut screaming at me to answer. Not to mention, I didn’t want the ringing to wake you.” He pulled in a breath. “When I picked up, there was a man on the other end …” His voice trailed off. Ryder stared into the distance, a look of pain etched on his face. He breathed in deep and then added, “The man was a police officer.”
The knife in my gut twisted. “You don’t have to say another word.”
“Yeah, I do. I never talk about this, Presley. Not with anyone. Not ever. I need you to understand.”
Seconds ticked by before he spoke again.
“The officer told me my parents had been involved in an accident and I needed to get to Seashore Heights Medical Center as soon as possible.”
A lump the size of a fist formed in my throat. Emotion stung my eyes.
“When I got to the hospital, I learned my father had died on impact.”
My vision blurred, and I stopped walking.
Ryder did too.
His fixed gaze remained on the horizon.
What he said next rocked me to my core.
“They lost my mom on the table. Ten minutes before I got there.”
“Oh my God.” My free hand went to my mouth.
All this time, I’d thought he was an asshole.
An asshole who didn’t remember ever taking me to bed.
I’d thought he had gotten what he wanted and left without a care in the world.
Now, more than anything, I wished he had been that man.
Because this version of Ryder, the one who had suffered a devastating loss, broke something inside of me. Never in my life had I hurt so much for someone else.
I dropped my shoes onto the sand and stood in front of him, placing my hands on his chest. “Ryder, I’m so sorry.” Tears spilled down my face.
“That night was the worst nig
ht of my life. I did everything to block it out, and eventually, it worked. Which is why I didn’t recognize you. Not because you’re forgettable or some faceless woman I had sex with. I’m sorry if you thought otherwise.”
“Please don’t apologize. I’m deeply sorry for your loss. I had no idea.”
His shoes hit the ground with a quiet thud.
“Don’t cry, Pres. It was a long time ago.” He wiped the wetness from my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.
“Three years isn’t that long.”
“Some days, it feels like a lifetime. Others, it seems like yesterday.”
“All this time, I had no idea. I thought you were—”
“An asshole?” he interjected.
I lifted my hands from his chest and wiped my tear-soaked face. “Yes. I’d imagined we’d at least have breakfast before we went our separate ways. When I ran into you and Zeke that day, you completely blindsided me.” I hesitated before I continued, “I never expected to see you again. Then, there you were … with a son you’d failed to mention having.”
“Remember when I told you, it’s not what you think?”
I nodded.
“Zeke isn’t my son.”
“But he looks just like you. He has your eyes and your dimples.”
“Because we both look like our dad. Zeke is my little brother.”
“Your brother?” I searched Ryder’s face for any hint of deception, but I only saw truth in his eyes.
“I’m a little surprised you didn’t pick up on it at Mimi’s.”
I thought back to the recent encounters I’d had with Ryder and Zeke.
Not once had Zeke referred to Ryder by name, but he hadn’t called him Dad either.
There were a few small pictures on a shelf in Harriett’s living room, but I never got close enough to inspect them. Harriett didn’t say anything that made me think otherwise.
After Ryder had left, I’d talked to Harriett and Papa B about my new teaching job and if I thought I would like living in Boca.
If my grandfather knew the details of Ryder’s past, he never said a word. Not that he would have had any reason to. Nobody knew the extent of our history, except Ryder and me.
“I just assumed. I mean …” I left the words unspoken and lowered my gaze to the sand.
Ryder hooked his thumb under my chin, gently tipping my face up to his. “Tell me.”