“I know. I’m sorry.” I take his hand and grip his fingers hard.
“Please don’t apologize. I know that all these issues are a problem, but I don’t want to go anywhere. I’m happy here. Please be patient with me while I try to figure things out.” He removes his hand from my grip and brushes his thumb along my cheek. The caress is gentle, but it doesn’t relax me.
“You’ve so rarely mentioned your ex-wife.” I know it’s ridiculous to be jealous, but my heart won’t be reasonable. “She’s someone I’m concerned about. What if—when you remember her—you want to go back to her? Where will that leave me and Brandon?”
He squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t know…”
I know his honesty is painful for both of us. I know part of my pain has to do with Thomas. If Thomas hadn’t been in his right mind when he left, then he might recover and, someday, he might want to come back. And I also know deep inside that I’d take him back in a heartbeat. I don’t say the words, but that would leave Ryder out in the cold too. We are in a complicated situation with our pasts dictating our present.
“I know you’re in a fragile situation. Did you ever think how I’d feel if your ex-husband walked through that door? Or what he’d think of me being here? Don’t answer, Halo.” Ryder shakes his head. This is a lot harder than I realized. What if Thomas suddenly decides he wants us back? Would I willingly walk into the arms that had shut me out, that abandoned me at my time of need? I don’t know what I would do, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit to thinking about it.
“Can you drive us? We’re going to be late.” My tone is defeated.
Ryder lets out a sigh. “Yeah, let me just grab my shoes.”
He heads for the garage and I put my head in my hands, tugging at my hair in frustration. I didn’t want our day to start this way. I wanted to focus on Brandon and meeting his new caregiver. I take a few long, deep breaths to relax myself and turn to Brandon.
As I prepare Brandon for the trip, I worry, hoping I haven’t upset Ryder too much. I know my hormones and lack of sleep are messing with my emotions. I’m trying to gain a sense of security for Brandon and me, but maybe I’m asking for too much too soon.
A few minutes later we’re driving to Mrs. Ritter’s place. It’s in the neighborhood and as we drive down familiar streets I think about the hectic commute I’ll have next week when I begin teaching again.
“You know, I was thinking of getting a job,” Ryder says, his gaze on the road. “Maybe as a mechanic.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. One of the things that I’ve been working on in counseling is how I can apply skills from my life before the navy to my life today. Apparently I worked as a mechanic before. And I’ve been working on this truck, which has been good practice….” His expression is distraught. I don’t ask what he’s thinking—he needs to tell me this kind of thing on his own time. “There are a lot of things in my file but the doctors and I have been trying to take one thing at a time,” he explains hesitantly. And now I understand why he might be worried.
“So you mean there’s information about your past that the military knows and you’re choosing not to learn about?” I ask, trying to keep a steady voice. I want to be supportive even if his response might be upsetting.
“Dr. Wembley seems to think there are benefits to discovering things on my own. He thinks it’s smart considering the amnesia is probably from a severe case of PTSD.”
“So what do you know?” I ask nervously.
“Just that I grew up in Chicago. A little about my parents. There’s an older lady who I have listed as next of kin. I would like to go visit her and see what she knows… I haven’t been ready to do that yet.” He pulls his eyes from the road for a brief moment and looks my way, biting his lip. Then he continues, “The names of my teammates that died. I dream about them,” he explains, inhaling a long breath.
I want to ask him more. Especially if he’s discovered any information about his relationship with his ex-wife, but we’ve arrived at our destination. “Right there on the right.” I point to the old red brick house where Mrs. Ritter lives.
Ryder carries Brandon in the carrier as we head inside out of the cold to meet Mrs. Ritter. She is a kind woman in her late fifties and she really does seem to have a way with babies. Likely she’s dealt with lots of emotional moms who are going to back to work for the first time—because she’s patient as I explain in great detail Brandon’s feeding schedule and the pains I’m going to take to ensure he continues with breast milk.
After we have everything sorted out and I pay for the first week of care, I nod to Ryder and we thank Mrs. Ritter. I’m placing Brandon back in the carrier when Mrs. Ritter suddenly says, “He looks like you, Ryder.”
My eyes widen at her mistake and my heart skips a beat. “Oh no,” I begin to explain.
“Thanks,” Ryder responds.
I bite my lip and don’t say anything further. Ryder picks him up in his carrier and coos at him.
“Thanks again,” I say, smiling. “We’ll be seeing you next week.”
“Bye, looking forward to it,” Mrs. Ritter responds.
We head back to the truck and I’m still feeling a little baffled about Ryder’s response. After we get buckled in, Ryder fiddles with the heat controls. I gaze at him curiously. I can tell he knows I’m looking at him by the crooked smile on his face.
“Sorry,” he says. “It just came out. We do have the same eye color… I know. I don’t know what I was thinking…sorry.” I know I should be upset with him for misleading her but the fact that he actually wants Brandon to look like him completely warms my heart. I settle in and let out a breath as my head falls back on the headrest. I’m so screwed where Ryder St. John is concerned. He’s made the ache of losing Thomas easier. He’s also made me realize that I can move on without Thomas. The thought scares me…
Chapter Nineteen
Three weeks later
“I love the taste of your mouth. You are so dammed sweet,” Ryder mutters as we have one of our nightly make-out sessions on the living room couch. His tongue runs over my lips and I open my mouth, allowing him access. Our tongues meet in a sensual dance. His hands run over my shoulders and down my back. My shirt feels a little wet from my hair—I took a shower before coming downstairs. Ryder’s lips move over my ear and down my jaw, nibbling lightly. I’m all sensation. His scent, his touch, the way his hard body feels beneath my fingertips.
“You smell so good,” he murmurs as he spreads light kisses behind my ear. I’m all hot and tingly—a wound-up bundle of nerves waiting to explode. He’s respected my insecurities and never goes below my neckline, but doing this with him now for over a month has sent my libido skyrocketing.
These last two weeks have been better than I could’ve expected. Ryder began to work for a mechanic part time between his physical and psychological therapy, which has put him in a good mood. He’s feeling like he can do more now than stick to the house. He prepares dinner every day so I have time to spend with Brandon after work and then we all hang out together after dinner. It’s almost like we’re a real family. Almost.
“Halo,” he says breathlessly. He moves me back on the couch so that my head connects with the pillow and he climbs above me without putting pressure on me. Our kissing drives me wild.
“Yes?” I ask, practically panting.
“Is it okay if I put my hands under your top? I mean, I can see your reaction to me and I need to touch you,” he says, referring to my hardened nipples.
I swallow hard as the heat between my thighs grows. I nod and one of his hands touches me gently under my T-shirt. I’m not wearing a bra. I suddenly feel nervous about him touching my breasts because I am still breastfeeding and they’ve been Brandon’s eating machines. He begins to tease me, rubbing his finger gently over my nipple and I let out a moan.
“You are so sexy,” he says, his voice low. My eyes fall shut and I’m all sensation when suddenly I feel something cool running down my
side. Shit. Am I leaking? This is so embarrassing.
“Ryder—” I warn him, but he cuts me off.
“Ssh. Don’t say it. You’re perfect and beautiful and I love that you still feed him like this. You are such a good mom,” he says and my heart wants to burst out of my chest as I remind myself that I shouldn’t be falling in love with him. “Just feel, baby,” he says as his other hand begins to circle my other nipple. I don’t know if it’s because I haven’t had sex in like a year but I feel myself pushing into him and when I meet his very erect cock, I moan even more.
“Ryder, I think…” I try to warn him that I’m going to come from him merely touching my breasts but he stops me again.
“Can I touch you down here?” he asks, placing a hand over my pants between my thighs. My pulse speeds up and I begin to crave more than his palm on my pants.
I nod silently and he slides his fingers under my waistband. I suddenly wish I had worn something a little sexier than white cotton underwear.
“Shit, you are so wet. You feel so good.” His voice is hoarse as he rubs me with his fingers, spreading my wetness. It feels so good that my breathing turns ragged and I moan. I’m grateful that I finally picked up a baby monitor last week and that Brandon is upstairs and can’t hear any of this.
“Oh, oh,” I begin to cry out as I grip his thick shoulders and throw my head back. I had been feeling so heated from Ryder lately that I finally gave in and touched myself a few nights ago to make sure everything was good after giving birth. No worries there—I came hard thinking of him.
His thumb circles my clit and I begin to move my hips as my heartbeat accelerates. “What about you?” I ask with a husky voice.
“I want this to be about you. You are such a sexy and beautiful woman. I want to watch you come,” he says, his voice raspy with need.
“Ryder I…” I don’t know what I was going to say. Every thought leaves my mind as a hard and rough orgasm racks my body. I know I must be screaming out and I don’t know how loud I am, but he’s making me feel tingly and hot all over. I frankly don’t care because I missed this feeling.
When I finally come down from my high, I open my eyes with a lazy grin.
“You’re beautiful and that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He bites down hard on his lower lip. His chest is heaving, and I can feel how hard he is in his jeans.
“Let me,” I say, reaching down to touch him, but he stops me and brushes his palm over my forehead, moving the hair out of my eyes.
“Not tonight, okay? Let’s take this one step at a time, even though I would like nothing more than to be inside you right now. I know I don’t deserve that yet, but I will and I will make you mine, Halo Pearson.” He shifts next to me on the couch, holding me tight. My breath hitches. If I closed my eyes right now I would think he was Thomas. I know Thomas might not ever return but I can’t stop the guilt I feel.
“What is it?” he asks, probably sensing the tension in my body.
I can’t tell him. Not now. Not after we just experienced this close connection. “It’s nothing.” I force a smile and run my fingers through his dark brown hair. I trace the lines of his forehead, his cheeks and his jaw. I almost feel like a crazy woman when he shuts his eyes and I examine his face up close. His features are similar yet so different from my ex-husband’s. His cheekbones seem lower and his nose is more squared off and not as straight as Thomas’s.
Halo, what the hell are you doing? I shouldn’t be comparing the two men. It’s not fair to any of us. He opens his eyes and grips me in a hug.
“Do you want to come sleep upstairs?” I ask. I don’t want to separate from him. I like the way he holds me in his arms. I realize he may be thinking that I asked him upstairs for sex. My heart skips a beat. “I mean uh… I thought we could just, um, sleep next to each other.” Heat rises on my cheeks.
He bursts out laughing. “I know what you meant, Halo. And, yes, I would like to come up and just sleep beside you. I was serious when I said I can’t have sex with you yet. I know I have to figure my shit out.” He rolls over me on the couch without putting his body weight on me and stands up. Then he leans forward and lifts me in his arms. I squeal.
“Ryder put me down. Your leg, your arm…” I chide. He could mess up his injuries more.
“I’m good,” he says convincingly.
“No seriously, I don’t want you messing yourself up. Carry me up another night. Not tonight,” I say with a pleading tone and some innuendo.
“Okay.” He sulks and puts me down. “You’re right I don’t want to mess myself up for what I have planned for us soon,” he says, raising and lowering his brows.
I shake my head with a chuckle and take him by the hand, leading him up the stairs. Then I fall asleep wrapped in his warmth.
Chapter Twenty
Halo
I open my eyes and turn my body to see that the bed is empty and my heart sinks. I know Ryder would never leave without saying anything. What bothers me is that I finally have the perfect man in my life. He cooks, he helps with Brandon, he’s open about his feelings, he’s facing his demons, he clearly cares a whole lot for me and I do for him.
But… That but sticks in my head like it’s been put there with crazy glue. I still can’t get Thomas out of my mind and, even worse, out of my heart. I also can’t stop comparing Ryder to Thomas and it’s beginning to irk me.
I climb out of bed and head for Brandon’s room. I’ve heard him cooing on the monitor for the past twenty minutes but I was too tired to open my eyes and he wasn’t fussing so I activated the mobile from my room with the remote.
When I go into his room I see his eyes are open and he’s watching his mobile. I pick him up and take him back to my bed to feed him. I listen for Ryder downstairs. Maybe he’s making coffee or something. After a few moments of silence my panic rises. Was last night too much? Did he remember something?
After feeding and changing Brandon, I carry him down the stairs, my gaze seeking out Ryder. I even knock on the garage door, wondering if he’s showering or getting dressed. There’s no answer and I’m mad at myself for feeling so concerned. Ryder’s an independent guy. He doesn’t have to check in with me about everything he does and everywhere he goes.
I make coffee and try to eat. Brandon’s happily wiggling in his bouncy chair—the TV is on in the background. I’m on the verge of trying Ryder on his cell when the doorbell rings. Thinking it’s Ryder—he’s probably forgotten the key—I undo the deadbolt and the latch and open the door. Two men in naval uniforms are standing on the porch. The air gets sucked out of my lungs… I can’t breathe.
There’s only one reason an officer comes to your home dressed in uniform and it isn’t to deliver good news. I thought Thomas changed me as his next of kin but he clearly didn’t. Tears begin to roll down my cheeks. I pull away from the men at the door. When Thomas was on deployments I would have nightmares about this exact thing happening. I would wake unable to sleep and I would only calm down once he called or emailed so I was sure he was safe. How could this be happening now? My arms wrap around my waist and I crumble to the floor. The officers at the door say something but I can’t breathe, I can’t even form a coherent thought. This can’t be real. This can’t happen now.
“Brandon, Brandon,” I hear myself screaming for my son as pain takes over my entire body. Then I hear Thomas’s smooth, deep voice in my mind, “I will not say do not weep, for not all tears are an evil.” I only wish that I could turn to sand and disintegrate. How I wish he were here.
I see the men come through the door and I feel just like I did the night the police officers came to tell me my parents were killed by a drunk driver. But that night Thomas had been here to catch me. Now Thomas isn’t here and he will never be. The thought rips my heart out.
“Miss.” One of the officers tries to help me to my feet. “Miss!” He urges me to stand, but I can’t. I can’t move. Knowing that Thomas left me was one thing. Knowing he no longer breathed the air on th
is earth was another. I’m destroyed. Completely destroyed.
“There’s been a misunderstanding…” the other officer is saying.
“What?” I look at him through the blur of my tears.
“We are looking for Petty Officer Second Class Thomas Wells,” the first officer explains.
I gasp. “He isn’t dead?” I rub at my wet face. I’m a mess and I’m now very confused.
“No, ma’am. He’s not dead. He’s being awarded a Medal of Honor for trying to save comrades from insurgent gunfire, ma’am. It’s the highest military honor and will be awarded by the President of the United States. Officer Wells is a hero.” I lean hard against the wall. I try to pull myself together. Thomas isn’t dead. Thomas isn’t dead.
“Why are you looking for him here?” is the first question that comes to mind.
“This is the address he left when he checked out after surgery.” The officer sounds as confused as I am.
“Is Officer Wells not residing here?” the other man asks sternly.
Suddenly Ryder comes through the door. He must have been out for a run. He’s sweaty, he’s wearing sweats and earbuds hang from his neck. Relief hits me and I exhale deeply. I’m so glad to see him.
Halo Page 18