Raising Ryann

by Alyssa Rae Taylor

  “You think?” I crinkle my nose, watching him suspiciously. He knows the questions are coming. Even his chipper mood isn’t enough to distract me.

  “You took two of them down,” he says enthusiastically. “Of course, I don’t know why I’m surprised. You learned from the best.” The corner of his mouth tips.

  “Conceited much?” I’m ready to discuss how he knows the girls from the concert. I assume it’s a topic he’d rather avoid. But I don’t want to avoid it. I’m feeling a little confrontational. The five-minute squabble wasn’t enough. The thought of Luke putting his hands all over either of them fills my body with jealousy and rage. What is it that they have that I don’t? I mean, so what if I don’t look like Malibu Barbie. At least I have a brain. I watch him pick up his phone, punch in a couple numbers then place it to his ear.

  “Malibu Barbie?” he asks, glancing out of the corner of his eye.

  Did I say that out loud? I don’t care. I’m pissed and my boob hurts! So I ignore him.

  He sets his phone down as we pull into the garage. “Logan wants to hang out.” Turning off the ignition, he asks, “Have you met …” he pauses, “… never mind.”

  I stare out the passenger side window before opening the car door. “No. I haven’t met any of your friends—aside from the classy group I met tonight, and they jumped me.” There’s a heavy bag hanging in the right side of the garage. I walk over and punch it. When it swings back I hit it again, but my hand bends unnaturally. I grab my wrist and squeeze, clenching my jaw to hide the pain.

  “Reese.” He sighs. “What are you doing?”

  I’m throwing a jealous tantrum. What does it look like I’m doing? Turning my back to him, I walk through the door, but he’s right on my heels.

  “Are you hurt?”

  Are you kidding me? “Am I hurt?” My head snaps back, and I’m seething. “Don’t act like you don’t know why I’m upset!”

  He closes his eyes.

  “It’s obvious you all knew each other. You knew each other pretty damn well!”

  “Yeah, so what?”

  “So what? Are you serious?” I glare.

  “Go ahead. Ask me.” His eyes burn into mine. “What do you want to know?” He follows me to the point that I’m pressed against the bathroom door. “That I’m a male whore?” he says a little louder. “I’m sorry if that surprises you. Maybe I wanted to keep my sex life to myself. Is that wrong?”

  Oh, now he’s just being an ass. I grab the handle and back into the bathroom. “You’re right. Your sex life isn’t any of my business, but feel free to ask me about mine. Then again, I’ve already told you everything.” I slam the door ready to cry, but gasp when I see my reflection.

  I look pathetic. My hair is all over the place. It’s as if a bird flew in and made itself a nest and had a little party. There are streaks of mascara underneath my eyes and smeared across one of my cheeks. I count four blazing scratches starting at the top of my jawline and ending at the nape of my neck. I step closer to the glass then take off Luke’s shirt, finding a patch of dry blood above my nipple. Gross. When Luke said badass, this was not what I was expecting. I kind of hoped I walked away unscathed. “Some badass,” I murmur.

  A light knock sounds at the door before Luke’s velvety voice breaks through. “C’mon Reese. I’m sorry. Don’t hide in the bathroom all night.”

  Please … I’m not afraid to face him. I just don’t want him to see me crying over him. Relieved when I spot the charcoal towel hanging on the rack, I scurry over and turn on the water. “I’m not hiding, Luke. It’s called a shower.”

  “I put a clean towel in there,” he says a little louder.

  “I see it. Thank you.” I stand at the door and wait for him to leave, knowing he’s still on the other side.

  “Do you hate me?” he asks, and I pause, debating on whether to answer. He’s really good at getting what he wants so I try to make him suffer. “I know you’re there,” he says, sounding like a sad little boy.

  I cave and open the door a fraction of an inch. “Can I help you? I’m trying to take a shower.”

  He leans against the wall, furrowing his brows. “Tell me if I’m wrong.” He tilts his head to the side. “Am I being punished for my past?” So he did sleep with her … or them. My stomach flips. I don’t know how to reply to that, so I give him the only response I can think of. “What ever do you mean?” Okay, maybe I’m being a smartass, but I can’t help it.

  “Don’t get cute. You know what I mean.” He steps closer, looking directly into my eyes, as I fake disinterest. “You want to know the truth?” Without giving me any time to answer he says, “I slept with them. As a matter of fact, I slept with all of them.”

  I flinch, sucking in a breath. All of them? How many were there? Five or six? I can’t look at him. So I shut the door in his face. Even though I already expected he’d been with at least one of them, it hurts to hear the words leave his mouth. “Thank you for sharing that wonderful piece of information with me, Luke,” I tell him through the door. “If you’re trying to hurt me, I assure you, you’ve succeeded.”

  “That’s what I mean, Reese. It’s my past, and you’re judging me for it. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I can’t undo it.” He pauses then says, “What’s done is done. Shit! I’m not trying to hurt you. Do you really think that low of me? That I would be that selfish?”

  I get what he’s saying, and I shouldn’t be so hard on him for his past. But I’m jealous, hurt, and confused, and I don’t know how to put my feelings into words. Opening the door a second time, I leave just a sliver of a space where he can see me.

  He’s sitting on the floor with his legs sprawled out, his bare back against the wall, and his hair in a disheveled mess. He still manages to look beautiful. “That’s not why I’m hurt, Luke.” The steam filling the bathroom brings beads of sweat to my neck.

  He lifts his lashes searching my face.

  “I’m hurt because you gave them something that you’ll never give to me. I’m hurt because those women have all seen a part of you that I won’t get to see.” I shrug. “I’m jealous.”

  His cheeks flush, and his brows rise to his hairline.

  “I’m not talking about your penis, Luke! It’s a whole lot more than that!”

  He clears his throat, “I didn’t say you were.” Pursing his lips, he quickly looks away. He totally thought I was.

  “I’m talking about your vulnerable side. The side you won’t share with me. You won’t talk about your past or your family, and when it comes to you and me,” I stop. “What are we Luke? What’s happening between us?” I point a finger. “Don’t answer. Hold that thought.” I quickly grab the towel and wrap it around my torso then open the door.

  When he sees me, he sighs. “First of all, those girls know nothing about my family or my past.”

  I interrupt, “You slept with them … every single one of them, yet you won’t even touch me.”

  “God Reese, how many times do I have to explain it to you?” he groans, scrubbing his face with his hands.

  “A girl can only be rejected so many times, before it starts to wear her down. Really Luke, I get it. It just hurts.”

  His eyes flare. “No you don’t get it! You don’t understand how wrong you are.” He stands up, and I get behind the door, preparing to shut it.

  “Look, I’m done talking. The water is still running, and I need to get in.” I close it softly then step into the shower and cry as quietly as I can. It’s moments like these when I really miss my mom.

  I’ve been tossing and turning for nearly an hour now, ignoring my thirst for water. After twenty minutes in the shower, my tearful breakdown was apparent on my face, so I walked straight into Luke’s room and haven’t seen him since. I glance in the mirror, hoping the puffiness has faded. It’s humiliating enough that I poured out my soul. If I have any ounce of dignity left, I’d like to hang on to it.

  I make my way over to the kitchen using my best attempt to a
void Luke’s gaze. The heat of his body sends prickles down my spine when I realize he’s standing close behind me. Two strong hands grip my shoulders then turn me so I face him.

  “Will you stop being dramatic and give me a chance to talk?” His voice is soft, but his words manage to piss me off.

  My eyes lift to his. “I. Am. Not. Being. Dramatic!” Okay, maybe I am, but so what? I try to walk away, but his firm grip holds me in place. “Let go of me,” I hiss.

  The shift in his gaze says he knows I’ve been crying. He clenches his jaw then slowly breathes through his nose before he says, “I don’t know how to do this.” Letting go of one of my shoulders, he points between him and me. “These feelings between us. The feelings I have for you, I don’t know what to do with them.”

  I arch a brow. “What does that even mean?”

  “God, Reese, I don’t know!” he yells. “Can’t you see this is hard for me?” He places his hands on his hips. “I’m trying to protect you. It’s just … it’s complicated.”

  I throw my arms up. “Oh, it’s complicated all right! With you, it’s always complicated.” I get in his face. “Do me a favor, let me know when you’ve got it all figured out. But I promise you, I may not be around when you do.” I turn around and storm down the hall toward the bedroom.

  Right before I get to the door he says, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Too late,” I yell back. I slam the door shut and hop into bed.

  If this isn’t a dream, then I’m waking to the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed watching me with so much intensity. I swear I could get drunk off of the cognac that are his eyes. When my pulse begins to race, I can’t keep the smile from stretching across my face. I’m done fighting. I want to lay here and take all of him in.

  “I want to show you something,” he says, his voice sounding a little shaky. I nod my head as his hand reaches for mine.

  “Feel.” He brings my fingers to a circular scar I didn’t notice before. It’s on the lower part of his side, directly across from his belly.

  “I walked in on my father smacking my mom around.” Glancing over his shoulder he says, “She was small like you, you know, petite.” His eyes flick to the floor. “I jumped on his back, thinking I could stop him, but he was stronger and launched me off. I was nine,” he gives a short laugh. “It was the first time I had the balls to stand up to him.” He brings his gaze back to the scar. “I thought he was going to kill me, but he had other plans.”

  I cringe, thinking the plans involve torturing his son then squeeze his hand so he’ll continue. It’s hard to hear what he went through, but the fact that he’s telling me is progress.

  “I tried to get to my mom, but he grabbed me and held me still. I’ll never forget the sound. My skin was sizzling.” he chokes out.

  “God Luke, that’s awful …”

  “You’re telling me,” he replies as he nudges me. “Sure you want the rest?”

  “I’m sure.” I give a half grin when he lifts his brows in question. “I’m serious. I want to know.”

  He watches me carefully, but finally continues. “So he lit another one and put it out right here,” he says, tapping his thigh—an area that’s always covered when I’m around him.

  “Can I see?” I ask, no longer holding the tears at bay. I can’t help it. He’s finally opening up. The combination of his vulnerability and his story makes me cry.

  He stands and pulls down his pants, revealing the black boxer briefs underneath them. I run my hand over the scar. It’s nearly identical to the one on his side. “There’s another one I want you to feel.” He pulls up his jeans then grabs my fingers. “Do you feel that?” he asks, pressing them against his scalp.

  There’s a dip right in the center. “I feel it.”

  “I was fourteen. My father had my mom in a chokehold. He put her head through a wall before I could stop him. After I got a few punches in, he threw me through the sliding glass door. I was bigger, but still no match for him. There was glass everywhere.” He taps the spot of the old injury.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, feeling a tear slide down my cheek.

  His face falls. “This is why I don’t like to tell you these sort of things. See? I already got you crying again,” he says softly, eyes blazing into mine.

  I shake my head back and forth. “I just don’t understand. How can anyone be so cruel?”

  “You don’t know my father.” He shrugs. “Anyway, it’s more common than you think. There isn’t a way to understand it.”

  “Is that why you were put into foster care?” Maybe I’ve overstepped my boundaries, but I’m dying to know.

  “One of the reasons,” he pauses, “My father was in and out of prison. But nothing would ever stick. My sister and I’d go back and forth, getting placed in different homes.” He sighs. “Jim and Pam were the last. We just bonded differently I guess. There was something distinctive about them.” He shrugs. “That’s around the time I saw you.”

  “I didn’t know,” I murmur.

  “You met my buddy, Logan, that night at the club. Remember? Or were you too hammered by that point?”

  I remember, but barely. “Yeah.” I roll my eyes. “I remember.”

  He lifts his brows. “Despite what happened, Logan’s pretty legit. He’s a good guy, just needs a little help in the lady department.” The corner of his mouth curves.

  You should talk, I want to say, but instead I keep my mouth shut.

  “When my sister and I were first released into the system, it was Logan’s family that took us in. Both of us,” he adds. “Then his father passed away unexpectedly, and things went to shit from there, especially for Lauren.”

  I tilt my head, confused. “Where was your mother during all of this? Was she involved?” If she were anything like my mom, I wouldn’t put it past her.

  “They’d usually book her on child endangerment charges and declare her an unfit parent.” He glances at me. “They didn’t like that she was protecting him. Regardless of her reasoning.”

  This whole conversation makes me uneasy, so I nervously chew on my nails. “Why’d she do it?”

  He leans forward. “She was scared.” Resting his elbows on his knees, he continues, “She was scared for all of us.”

  “Scared of what?”

  “My father and what he was involved with.”

  “I don’t understand. Couldn’t you have gone to the police?”

  “The police?” he snorts. “The police were part of it. We didn’t know who we could trust.”

  I gasp. “But you said they didn’t like her protecting him. Why wouldn’t they like it, if they were involved?”

  “Not all were involved, but there were several. Money can make people do things, especially when they’re dealing with the cartel,” he adds, shrugging. “When your life, or your family’s life, gets threatened …”

  “Wait. Wait. Wait. The cartel?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “As in the Mexican Drug Cartel?”

  “As in the Mexican Drug Cartel,” he confirms, just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.

  I suck in a breath. “Was my father involved?” Please God don’t tell me he was. “I mean … do you know?”

  He leans over and tucks my hair behind my ear. “He wasn’t involved, Reese.”

  I sigh in relief. “Thank God. I don’t think I could handle it if you told me he was.”

  He lifts my chin. “He doesn’t seem so bad after hearing my story. Does he?” His voice is soft. He’s right, but who would, after hearing what Luke just told me?

  “No. I guess he doesn’t. That’s not saying much, though.” I rub my fingers over the scar on his side. “I don’t like that he hurt you.”

  He watches me carefully then stops my hand with his own. “I don’t like that I hurt you,” he says softly. The look in his eyes renders me speechless. “I heard you last night. I hate that I make you cry.” He lifts his lashes. “I can’t fight it anymore.�
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  The desperation in his words makes me feel tingly inside. “Fight what?” I ask quietly.

  “What I feel for you.” He leans in and gives me a gentle kiss. “What I’ve felt since the first day I saw you again.” He grips my hair and scoots me back on the bed, placing himself on top of me.

  His words confuse me, but my heart seems to understand. “The first day you saw me again? But, you said you thought I was a kid!” I barely squeak out. I try to look at him, but his face is nestled deep in my neck.

  He chuckles. “I told you. I was fighting it.”

  “And you’re not fighting it anymore?”

  He lifts his face to look into my eyes. “Nope,” he replies adorably.

  My eyes fall on his dimples. “Well, what about my feelings?” I arch a brow, watching his grin fade.

  “Feel what you want,” he growls. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

  “I am? I mean … you’re not?”

  “I’m not.” he kisses me again.

  “What if I have another date? Are you going to come along with us?”

  There’s a shift in his gaze when he answers. “Whatever it takes to convince you that you’re mine, I’ll do it.” His eyes pierce into mine. “I’m all in. And I don’t share.”

  I’m surprised by his seriousness. “There’s no need for convincing.” I say softly. “I know who I want.” I smile, and he slowly grins back.

  “There’s a man standing at Luke’s front door,” Gia shouts from somewhere in our newly shared condo. We’ve been rooming together for close to a month now. Tonight we plan on celebrating with a barbeque and a couple of handsome men.

  “It’s not the hot new neighbor, is it? Luke likes to be discreet. That’s what the property management company is for.” He rented out one of his condos to a man who Gia thinks looks identical to David Beckham. She’s been dying to see if I agree, but I haven’t had the chance to see him—not that it really matters. I always seem to be working when he makes an appearance.