“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Ryder couldn’t breathe. “If this were Janice, what would you do?” Janice Feron was Sawyer McIntyre’s fiancée. The wedding was in August.
“I wouldn’t give up,” Sawyer urged quietly. “You’re not going to give up either. There’s no other way. You’ve got this, Ryder. Make it happen.”
Ryder snapped awake. “Fan out along the road and head east. Take it slow. Look for a blood trail. And listen for her call.”
Chapter Fourteen: Something New
“SCOUT! RUTHERFORD, where are you?”
Take it slow.
Great advice. Impossible to follow after an hour of searching and still no sign of her.
“Scout!” Ryder’s voice cracked with fear. He fought the urge to run, stumbling and clawing, through the bush. A thunderstorm was in the air; he could feel it under his skin. If he didn’t find Scout before nightfall, she’d be in serious danger. Hypothermia was a threat even in June. He’d found hikers dead from exposure to the elements on warmer days than this. What if he didn’t find her? What if she was hurt or...?
Ryder pushed the thought down. He had to remain calm. He had to think. Approach this search as he would for any lost hiker. Scout needed him to do his job and tracking was one of his specialties. He knew the woods; he knew what to look for when someone went missing. He had to call on every ounce of that experience now if she was going to live.
And the baby she might be carrying.
Scout having a baby. A thrill of terror and urgency went through him. His baby. Last night, the two of them ... Ryder sent a silent message to Scout that he didn’t regret any of it. Just be alive. If there is a baby, I’ll love it and you. And if there isn’t, we’ll make one. Just be alive.
But the longer he searched and didn’t find her, the harder it became to hold on to hope. The universe or God or whatever power it was that decided who lived or died in Ryder’s life may have concluded he had three chances to love her and he pushed her away. The fort, her marriage proposal at Christmas and again last night. Three strikes, you’re out. He wouldn’t be given a fourth opportunity to reject her.
Ryder sucked in a deep breath. He’d be her friend, her husband, the father to her child—he’d be any damn thing she wanted if he could just find her. If it took the rest of his life, he would make Scout see how much he loved her. He slowed to almost a crawl, his eyes sweeping the forest floor for a track. He just needed one sign.
There it was.
“Ahhh.” Ryder dropped to one knee to get a better look.
The soft undergrowth to his left was disturbed ever so slightly. He examined the area closely. To the untrained eye, the depressed fern and snapped twig meant nothing. But to Ryder, they were a trail. Someone had come this way—recently. Controlling his excitement, Ryder eased his way through the bush, following the signs.
SCOUT RAISED her head.
Ryder.
Ryder had come for her. She’d heard him talking to her, Scout was sure of it. It couldn’t have been a dream. His voice had that edge of panic Ryder always seemed to have in his throat wherever she was around. She couldn’t have heard that if it had been a dream, could she?
“I’m here! Ryder, I’m here!” A breathtaking pain shot through her chest. Scout lifted herself on one elbow, wincing with the effort. Broken arm and a cracked or broken rib she thought. She lay still for a full minute, mentally scanning her body for symptoms of cramping or bleeding. If she was pregnant, the fall hadn’t hurt the baby. She’d wait a bit and then call again. As long as she remained conscious and the rain held off she would be okay until Ryder could find her.
No, she thought, remembering. That’s all wrong. It couldn’t have been him she heard. Ryder was shot. He wasn’t out looking for her. He was in the hospital.
The first few drops hit her face from the engorged clouds overhead. No, no, no. She wished she’d paid more attention when Ryder constructed that lean-to when they were kids. He had gone through the method, step by step, telling her one day it could save her life. Scout had rolled her eyes and nodded, pretending to understand his instructions.
It all seemed so important now; everything Ryder had ever said or done for her. Their friendship was a gift. He was a gift. Why didn’t she have the good sense to cherish what he offered? He couldn’t love her the way she wanted and she was too selfish to be glad for the love he could give her. If she ever saw him again, Scout swore she would hold him to her and beg his forgiveness. She wouldn’t even tell him about the baby, if there was a baby. She would just love him exactly as he was, accept the friendship he offered and be grateful.
If she ever saw him again. The rain was falling faster now and the forest was turning dark green as the light faded. Scout lifted her eyes to the top of the ravine and the falling rain. “Please God, let me see him again,” she whispered. “Let me see him.”
“Scout!”
Ryder appeared at the ravine’s edge.
“Oh my God! I’m here! Ryder!” Pain shot through her. “Ryder, I’m down here!”
“I can’t see you. Are you hurt?”
“A little.” Speaking above a whisper was excruciatingly painful. “I’ve fallen down the ravine.”
Scout could hear him methodically making his way down the bank and smiled. His cautious nature used to drive her crazy. His control, usually so exasperating, was exactly what she needed right now: Ryder taking care of the details so she would be safe.
“Careful, easy,” he soothed, coming to her side. “Anything broken?”
“My arm and possibly a rib. It hurts when I breathe or talk. I couldn’t call out. I couldn’t call,” she gasped. “How did you find me?”
“It’s my job to find people. I followed your trail. Lie still while I check you out.”
“But you were injured. She shot you” She stared at him like he was an apparition.
“The paramedics dressed the wound. It was minor. What about you? Are you experiencing any cramping or bleeding?”
She eyed him suspiciously. “No. Why?”
“Scarlett told me you might be pregnant.” His expression was blank.
Scout winced. “You’d think for a criminal she’d know how to keep her mouth shut.”
“Is it true?”
Scout met his eyes reluctantly. “I don’t know. We didn’t use anything. I’m at the most fertile time in my cycle.” She turned her face away from him. “I’m sorry, Ryder.”
“Oh, baby,” he murmured, running his hands over her shoulders and down her arms searching for the break, “you have nothing to be sorry about.”
The bone in her left arm moved sickeningly under her skin and Scout gritted her teeth against the pain.
“Scout, I’m going to make a splint to stabilize your arm before carrying you out of here. It’s going to hurt like hell.” Ryder had sat back on his haunches and was speaking with the professional detachment he usually reserved for lost hikers. Scout knew she was in real trouble this time.
With grim efficiency, Ryder gathered sticks and pulled the laces from her sneakers to fashion a splint. Rain soaked his head and shirt, and his hair hung in dripping yellow whorls in his eyes. He pushed at it impatiently to see what he was doing. Scout knew the gesture: Ryder was frightened.
“Hey, Ryder?” Scout smiled feebly. “Remember that time I got a concussion? I was climbing that big rock in Garrity’s meadow and I slipped and cracked my head. You were nagging me not to fall asleep and I wanted to sleep so badly.” Scout closed her eyes. “You walked me home squeezing the back of my neck the entire way so I wouldn’t curl up by the side of the road like I wanted to. Mom and Dad told me you saved my life.”
“They were always prone to exaggeration.”
“I still remember feeling your hand on my neck.” She opened her eyes to look at him. He had finished setting her arm in the splint. “Am I in trouble here, Ryder?”
“Of course you are. Do you even have to ask?” He tried to smile. “You’re always getting i
nto scrapes. This one is no different.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been a shitty friend.”
“We’re not just friends, Rutherford. We’re blood brothers. Remember when we were eleven and Grady began making noise about putting me in foster care? You were so angry, you said we’d become blood brothers and then no one could separate us.” Scout’s face was solemn as she cut his finger and then squeezed her eyes shut as he cut hers. They pressed their wounds together to mingle the blood, joining them forever. “I still have the scar.”
“Me too,” she mumbled, only half-conscious. “You don’t have to have a baby if you don’t want to, Ryder. Just don’t hate me if I have one. I can’t deal with you hating me.”
Ryder drew her good arm around his shoulder. “We’ll talk about it when I get you to the top of the ravine. Can you climb onto my back? I’ll carry you up fireman style.”
Scout shifted her weight and pain shot through her broken arm. She gasped but held on. Ryder climbed the ravine, zigzagging up its bank. Scout knew he was moving slower than he could have to cause her as little pain as possible; she could feel his muscles shaking with the effort. She closed her eyes, grateful for his body, for his strength; grateful for another day with Ryder.
They were both soaked through to the skin by the time Ryder made it to the top of the ravine. He carried Scout to a spreading fir, its wide boughs providing cover from the rain and lowered her as gently as possible under it. Ryder crumpled at her side, dragging deep breaths of air into his lungs. The ground under the tree was relatively dry but it wouldn’t stay that way if this rain kept up much longer. When his breathing returned to normal, Ryder turned to examine Scout. Her eyes were closed and she was terribly pale. He took her pulse and pressed his ear to her chest to listen to her lungs. A broken rib could lead to a punctured lung. Scout’s breathing was shallow and ragged and he didn’t like the way she kept slipping in and out of consciousness.
“Oh baby ... oh Scout ... what have they done to you?” Ryder choked, his heart tightening in his chest. He rubbed ineffectually at the streaks of dirt on her face and neck. “You’ll be all right. Everything will be all right.” But he was afraid. There was no telling how serious her injuries were and if she was pregnant and lost the baby....
Ryder collapsed over Scout, supporting himself on his elbows. Blood seeped through the gauze over his shoulder wound and stained his shirt. “I’m sorry. I wish I could take it all back from the beginning. I’d give you everything, everything, because you are everything to me.”
His mouth was drawn irresistibly to her face. Ryder kissed away the streaks of mud, his lips tasting her through the rain and grime. He found her mouth, soft and pliable, and covered it with his own.
Scout’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled. “Hey there.” Her voice was hoarse.
“Hey.” Ryder laughed, relieved. He smoothed a lock of wet chestnut hair from her face.
“Are you crying?”
“Nah. It’s just the rain.” But he was crying. “I love you, Rutherford.”
“I love you too, Dean.”
“Not like that—I mean—Scout, I have to tell you this. I’m in love with you.”
Her eyes darkened to the color of the fir tree that sheltered them. Her gaze penetrated Ryder’s face as though seeing him for the first time. “You are in love with me...?”
“Why, what is it?” Ryder asked uneasily.
“I won’t have you saying you love me because I might be pregnant.” Her eyes were troubled. “And I won’t have you making declarations you don’t feel because you’re afraid of losing me.” Scout was almost breathless from the pain it took to speak. “It’s not necessary. We’ll be fine just as we are. Nothing has to change.”
“Everything has changed. You know it has. I want you. I’m in love with you. You are all I want.” He stretched out beside her, covering her body with his to keep her warm until help arrived. She was coherent and that was an improvement but Ryder was concerned about her going into shock.
Scout moaned. “You don’t want kids. It’s too complicated. If there’s a baby ... I love you ... I love you ... I can’t leave you. I can’t leave the baby. I’m scared, Ryder. I’m scared for us.”
“Don’t talk. Stop talking. No one is leaving anyone. No more talking. Just rest now, rest.”
Ryder felt her go limp beside him. He curved over Scout, sheltering her with his body. Droplets of rain slipped through the net of branches dripping on his head and neck, cooling him, filling him with peace.
EPILOGUE
SCOUT TRIPPED through the woods behind the school, hugging their secret to her chest. She was happy, the news was good, but something was still troubling her. Something she couldn’t put a name to.
The FBI had wrapped up their investigation without her testimony. Noel, Terry and Roy were easily persuaded to give up Scarlett in exchange for immunity from prosecution. The wedding guests had almost recovered from their collective hangover, and when Scout was found more dead than alive by the searchers, she was painted a heroine who single-handedly flushed out a dangerous mob ring. The story circulating now was that Scout knew all along what Noel was up to and had cleverly led him to tip his hand. Scout enjoyed this fiction immensely and certainly wasn’t about to set anyone straight. It was much more satisfying to be cast as a canny sleuth than a duped and dumped bride.
All the loose ends were tied up, there were no more obstacles. So what was bothering her?
“What did the doctor say?”
Scout stepped up into the fort where Ryder was waiting for her—anxiously waiting judging by the expression in his eyes. His arms were crossed over his chest, tension lined his jaw.
“The bruising on my ribs is almost healed and the cast comes off next month.”
“And...?”
Scout bit down on the flutter of pure joy she felt. This alteration in their relationship was still so new to them both, so raw. Maybe now that the crisis was over, Ryder would discover this was not what he wanted after all. She took a breath. “I am pregnant. The baby is due in March.”
Ryder’s face didn’t change. “You took a pretty bad fall.”
“The baby is stubborn. Like its parents. He or she is still inside me, growing by leaps and bounds. Morning sickness has already kicked in.”
“No going back now.” His eyes glistened.
“No going back.”
Ryder nodded and turned to stare at the wall or the window, Scout couldn’t tell which. Her heart pounded in her ears. A flash of Ryder at eight, walking into Miss Lyle’s third grade class filled Scout’s vision, and was gone. This new, more compelling Ryder had displaced the boy. He was a man. They had been meeting in secret every day since their rescue; assignations at all hours of the day or night, arranged just like in the old days but with one significant difference. Now that they had discovered one another, they were insatiable.
The worry, the unfinished business, was nagging at the back of her mind. Scout caught her lip in her teeth. “Ryder, if you are having second thoughts about all of this, now is the time to tell me. I won’t be angry or love you less. But we swore to be honest with each other. We’ll lie to the rest of the world but never to each other no matter how much it hurts. Agreed?”
They still hadn’t told their friends and family what had happened between them. Ryder wanted to wait until she was completely healed; as though the pain of a broken arm could cloud her judgment so badly that she would forget how she felt about him. He was still, in many ways, that eight-year-old boy waiting to be rejected. And in many ways, Scout had to admit, she was still that seventeen-year-old girl wondering if he could love her.
“Not second thoughts, exactly.”
Scout was startled. For all of her anxiety, she hadn’t expected this. “Okay. You can tell me.”
Ryder turned and stepped close to her. He tipped her chin up to meet his eyes. Scout’s heart flipped in her chest. “I want to marry you, Scout.”
Reason, comprehension, even
the ability to speak froze up, locked somewhere in her brain. Ryder was bending over her, stroking her cheek, kissing her. He moved his mouth over hers with a skill that knocked the breath from Scout’s body. The kiss was long and hungry, slow and searing hot. His tongue slipped between her teeth and probed her mouth until Scout thought her legs would buckle.
Ryder opened her blouse silently, his lips moving over her bruises to the tops of her heavy breasts, already taut from pregnancy. The silver key dangled from its chain. Scout drew him down to the cushions and cupping his face, guided his lips to hers. Ryder responded with an eagerness that pulsed through Scout to her womb where their baby was growing. He tugged at the top button of her shorts and then stopped.
“You still haven’t given me an answer,” he said.
“I know. I have a few conditions. I was hoping to soften you up with sex first.”
“You are such a coward. Name them.”
“I want kids. Plural.”
“Agreed,” he said and kissed her abdomen. “We will make more babies.”
“And I want to raise them in the old farmhouse.”
Tension returned to Ryder’s face. “It’s not a family home,” he said stiffly. “No one ever came to visit Grady. I couldn’t have friends over.”
“I know.” She eyed him sorrowfully. “You never invited kids over except me.”
“I never invited you over either. You just came.” He rolled off her. “You know what Grady was like. You’re probably the only person besides me who knows. “ Ryder broke off. “That house isn’t a fit place to raise kids in.”
She rolled to her side and propped up on her good arm, resting her head in her hand. “You need to know something Ryder Dean. Grady is gone. That farm belongs to you and you are not Grady. The house was beautiful once. Happy people lived here. It can be happy again. You and I can make it happy. I have something to tell you—a confession. After Grady died, remember I left university to come and see you? We were doing the dishes at the sink and I looked up and saw the two of us reflected in the dark window, standing side-by-side, me washing, you drying. I was embarrassed and sad because I felt like I was spying on someone else’s perfect life. I was jealous of that girl in the window, married to that man, living in that house.”
The Jilting: Summer (Mandrake Falls Series Romance Book 1) Page 15