Breaking Ryann

by Alyssa Rae Taylor

  “Look at me,” he says sternly, and I do, staring at him like he’s my lifeline.

  “Relax,” he says more softly. “Breathe with me.” I feel his steady heartbeat beating through his chest. Together we breathe in sync, in through the nose, out through the mouth.

  “You’re doing good,” he whispers.” Keep breathing.”

  “I got you,” he says, untying my trembling hands. He rubs gentle circles over my wrists, then glances at my face before turning to give me some privacy. I pull up my shorts and panties, letting him know when I am decent. He scans all my tiny cuts from the glass. “Can you walk?”

  When I nod, he orders that I wait across the street.

  Shaking my head, I don’t budge. I won’t budge, not without him.

  “He won’t touch you. You’re safe. It’s just until the cops arrive.”

  “I don’t want to be alone.” My voice is unrecognizable.

  His gaze fixes on Ronald. He’s bound, gagged, and blindfolded on the floor. Luke had threatened to blow him to pieces. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near this shit stain,” he says with his jaw clenched tight. I think he’s going to make me leave.

  Tears roll down the sides of my cheeks. “I don’t want to be alone,” I say again,

  choking back a sob.

  “Shh. It’s okay.” He sits, stretching out his legs. “We’ll wait together. I won’t let

  him hurt you,” he soothes beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, making me feel safe. “I’m here.” He presses his lips to the top of my head. “I’m just sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

  “You okay?” Luke brushes a tear from my cheek. The gentle gesture only confuses me, and I roll my eyes to keep the rest from falling, “No,” I sniff. He’s still lying between my legs. With a heavy heart I just stare at him, trying to figure out why. “No. I’m not okay, Luke.” How could he do this to me? I’ve trusted him since I was eight years old. “You’ve ruined me. You know that?”

  His face falls, and he moves off me, placing his head in his hands. His hair’s sticking up through his fingers.

  I keep my tongue at the roof of my mouth, trying not to break down in front of him. “You’ve taken a piece of my heart that I’ll never get back. How could you do this to me?” It’s hard to get the words out. “I keep going over the past. It’s all just so confusing,” I say, biting my lower lip. “You can’t possibly understand how much you’ve hurt me. Blindsided me the way that you did. I … I thought you loved me.”

  His head snaps up. “I do love you.” He swallows. “God, I love you more than anything.” The anguish on his face makes my heart constrict.

  “I don’t know if I can do this. I need time to think.”

  Looking pained, he says, “I’m sorry. I’ll say it every day for the rest of my life, and I know that still won’t be enough.”

  I move toward the exit, and then as fast as I can to my car. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” I hiss. Once it’s unlocked, I climb in and slam the door shut. When cranking the engine, I hear a click then nothing else. C’mon, c’mon. Don’t do this to me. Cranking it again, I yell, “Shit!” I slap my palm against the steering wheel, accidentally blowing the horn. The driver door opens, and I don’t need to look to know who it is. I can feel him whenever he’s near me. Not to mention it’s still too early for anyone else to be around.

  “Sounds like the battery. Need a ride?”

  I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, then slowly nod. Could this be any more humiliating?

  He watches me from under his lashes. “We’re gonna have to take my bike.”

  Resting my hands in my lap, I fight more tears. “That’s fine.” I used to not be a crier, but I swear he brings it out of me. I’ve never cried more tears than I do for this man.

  When he holds out a hand, I take it, climbing out of my car, before I move past him.

  He walks behind me. “Let’s go home.”

  I haven’t talked to her since that morning her car broke down, when I’d given her a ride on my Harley. It had gutted me, seeing how much I’d hurt her. I’d been surprised she’d agreed to let me take her home.

  She hesitates before climbing on the back of my bike. I place a helmet over her head, tightening her chinstrap. She works hard at holding back her tears, chewing on her lip the way that she does.

  “Stop hiding them,” I tell her. “I deserve to see them. For Christ’s sake … I put ‘em there.” After all these years¸ you’d think we’d be past this.

  She nervously wraps her arms around me, interlocking her delicate fingers. “It’s embarrassing, being emotional in front of someone else. When I was a kid, I was taught that crying was a sign of weakness.” She scoots up so that her thighs press snuggly against my hips. I close my eyes, savoring the feeling.

  “Who told you that?”

  “My father.”

  I’m not even sure why I asked. I already knew the answer. Maybe I just wanted to hear her voice. “He was a drunk back then. He didn’t mean it.” Glancing over my shoulder at her beautiful face, I add, “If he were still alive he’d tell you that. You meant the world to him, Reese.”

  “You’re right. He would.” She inhales a deep breath, then slowly blows it out. “But I’ve cried enough tears over you.”

  I get it. You’ve made it clear. “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me.”

  “I can’t talk to you.” She averts her eyes. “Please, can we just go?”

  I rev the engine, honoring her wishes. Neither of us speak the whole way home.

  The next day I replace the battery in her piece of shit car. If I said her shock didn’t sting a bit, I’d been lying. What does it take for the woman to realize what she means to me—the lengths I would go to make her happy? I’m convinced the boyfriend had something to do with her nixing the private lessons. He doesn’t like our working together, worried I’m gonna take back what he took from me. All I know is I don’t trust him, and I’m not alone in that opinion. Logan’s had his number from the get-go.

  “What about you, boy?” I ask my furry best friend, rubbing the top of his head. “You don’t like him either, huh?” He whimpers and his ears perk up, but then he’s back to chewing on his toy. The front door swings open, and Logan strides in with a couple of beers, looking like he needs to talk. I lift my chin, and he hands one over after twisting off the cap.

  “Dude, you’re gonna need this.”

  I gesture to the lazy boy across from me. “Take a seat.”

  “Can’t stay long. Gia and I are headed up to Heartland’s for happy hour. Come up.” He bends over and pats Chance on the head. “Hey buddy, what you got there?” He glances my way before adding, “Sean and Reese are goin’.”

  “Thanks, man. I’ll pass.”

  “You might change your mind after you hear this.”

  “I can’t be around that prick.”

  “Dude, listen.” His eyes go wide. “You know how I told you about Gia being a pain in the ass lately—accusing me of shit for no reason.”

  I nod, taking a pull from the bottle. It’s all he ever talks about.

  “Two weeks to the date … there’s been no sex, bro. She thinks I’m keeping secrets. One day we were talking about the future, marriage, poppin’ out a couple of kids. The next, she’s going on about bros before hos. Not making any sense.”

  I try to process all that, still going over the marriage part and Logan. “Must have done something to piss her off.” I take another swig. “Talk to her, find out what’s setting her off.” Not like I’m the expert. That’s a joke.

  “I’m getting to that. Hold up. It’s sort of a long story,” he says, finally sitting down. “So today we’re at the house. I’m trying to get laid, and she’s pushing me away again. I get pissed. She never used to refuse me. My mind starts going, and I’m wondering if she’s fuckin’ someone else, so I ask her.” I choke out a laugh. I’m sure that went over well. “Yeah, I know … she was so pissed, she slapped me. Anyw
ay, she finally tells me why I’m on her shit list. And bro, here’s the crazy part. Before I start, you don’t have anything to tell me?” he asks, cocking one of his brows at me.

  I pause with the beer against my lips. “I’m not following. What does this have to do with me?”

  “Dude…” He snickers. “Your girl seems to think you were married.”

  My forehead wrinkles, and I wait for the punch line.

  “I’m dead serious. And what’s worse is she told Gia you admitted it. That’s why I had to ask.”

  “The fuck you talkin’ about? Admitted what?” I rest my elbows on my knees. “Grab me a beer, will ya?” I look around for the cameras, wondering if I’m being Punk’d or something, cause this shit is crazy.

  “That’s pretty much how I responded, man,” he said, handing me my drink. “She said Reese has met the girl—once at the hospital and once coming out of your house. Introduced herself as Rachelle or some shit like that. Thinks you two were fooling around when you left.”

  My eyes swing to his. “You’ve got to be shittin’ me. Rachelle did this?”

  “So this woman exists?”

  “Fuck yeah, she exists. She’s an agent, who’s got a thing for me, but I’ve never touched the woman!” I groan, irritated, remembering the nurse calling her my wife when I was in the hospital. It pisses me off that Reese would think I’d actually do that to her. Shaking my head, I ask, “She’s sayin’ I admitted this?”

  He nods. “Said you apologized the night you came back.”

  “Well damn.” I rest my head back against the couch, remembering the words she and I exchanged that night. I had apologized, but it’d been about her father. Wait. “Does she ever talk about Andrew around you? What she knows about his death?”

  He shrugs. “No, not really. I stay clear of the subject like you’d asked.”

  “Gia ever say anything about it?”

  “Just that the Feds wouldn’t release any names. Told Reese it was for safety reasons. She knows his killer is dead.”

  He’s dead all right. And I’d kill him again with no regrets.

  Relief and apprehension pour over me. If what he’s saying is true, all the hatred I’ve gotten from Reese has been about Rachelle. Damn! I could fucking strangle the woman. My grip tightens on the bottle. “You said Reese met her twice … my imaginary wife?”

  He laughs. “That’s what Gia told me.”

  I can only imagine all that Rachelle said to her; that woman is a schemer. “What time you guys heading up?”

  His eyes light up, and he checks his phone. “In about an hour. You gonna go?”

  “Thinkin’ about it.” I rub my chin.

  “Dude, you should.”

  “Do me a favor. Don’t say anything to Gia. Send her over before you go, and I’ll clear the air with her.”

  Back in Gia’s good graces, I shower and clean up before heading down to the brewery. She’d bombarded me with her questions, and I figured it’d be best if I didn’t beat around the bush. My answers had shocked the hell out of her. She’d cried over the fact that I’d shot my dad, calling me a hero. I’d told her I didn’t deserve the title. The real hero is the man I couldn’t save—the father of the woman I love. It’ll be on my conscience the rest of my life.

  Gia did what she could, to get me to see Reese’s side of the misunderstanding. Doesn’t mean I’m not hurt or angry over the lack of trust she has in me. She’d run off with the neighbor¸ giving him time that should’ve been mine—letting him touch her, kiss her, and whatever else he’s done with her. Yeah, I’d say I’m pretty pissed, and I plan to play with her head a bit before I give her the truth.

  Now we’re sitting in the back of the bar, and the person I came to see isn’t here yet. The douchebag mentioned her mother had called unexpectedly, so she’d be running a few minutes late. That was nearly an hour ago. My eyes keep roaming over to the entrance, expecting to see her walk in.

  Her boyfriend wasn’t happy when I’d taken the seat across from him. I reveled in the clear disappointment on his face. He’d been shocked to see me, and I’ve watched him pound back four or five beers since then. He hasn’t put any effort into joining our conversation either, which is fine by me. I’d rather he sit quiet the rest of the night. It’ll help me keep my fists to myself.

  Logan sits beside me, and Gia next to him—obviously on better terms than earlier; in fact, they’re so close they’ve got their chairs touching.

  “Book your room yet, brotha?” Logan asks, hounding me about Vegas. I’m not thrilled about the idea of hangin’ with the four of them, but now that I know what I know, I’m starting to consider it.

  I cross my arms over my chest, letting out a breath. “Still haven’t decided.”

  He looks disappointed. “Decide, man. Time’s runnin’ out.”

  “I’ve got a couple days.”

  “You have to. It’ll be fun!” Gia joins in. “We’ll lay by the pool, drink dirty martinis,” I roll my eyes, and she adds, “Drink whatever you want. It’s going to be a good time.”

  Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t.

  “Everything’s got to be booked already,” comes from Sean across the table.

  We all stare at him. Funny he chose this time to offer his opinion.

  His eyes move between us. “What?”

  “You afraid of a little competition?” I lean back in my chair.

  “Just trying to save you time. The fight isn’t the only event in Vegas next week. It’s going to be packed.”

  “Don’t matter,” Logan retorts. “We got a couch in our suite. Worst-case scenario, you sleep on that.” He flashes his teeth. Sean guzzles the rest of his beer, avoiding eye contact, hating the idea of my going.

  I slip my straw into my mouth, watching him closely. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Accept it, man. You’re going.” Logan grabs his empty mug and looks around the bar. “I need another beer. Where the fuck’s our waitress?”

  “Be nice,” Gia scolds.

  The waitress appears a moment later. “Sorry it took me so long. Your server must have left in a hurry, and she transferred your table without letting me know. You guys ready for another round?” She uses a pitcher to fill up our waters.

  “Yes,” Logan replies dramatically, drumming his knuckles on the table. “I’ll take another Sierra Nevada. Make sure it’s a tall.”

  She digs out a pad of paper and writes it down, before her eyes move to Gia. “For you?”

  “Ignore my boyfriend. He’s slow,” she says, making me chuckle. “I’ll have another Dirty Martini, please.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” she smiles sweetly. “Oh … hey you!”

  I blink, recognizing her long blonde hair and heart-shaped face. Scooting out of my chair, I greet her with an awkward side-hug. “Brandi, what are you doing here?” Last I’d heard she was living in Flagstaff with my sister. They’re attending college together … at least they were at one point.

  “It’s sort of a long story.” Her blue eyes move about the bar. “I’ll fill you in when it dies down a little. My tables are all filling up, and I’m running behind.”

  “No problem. Do what you got to do.”

  She smirks. “You’ll have to go easy on me. I’m still learning.”

  I swing my thumb over to Logan. “The only one you need to worry about is this guy over here.”

  He whacks me with a menu. “You know he’s full of shit, right?”

  “I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough,” she replies, her eyes shining. Pointing at my mug, she asks, “What about you? Want another beer?”

  “Not yet, but there’s one more joining us. Can you bring her a water?”

  “Sure!” Flicking her gaze over to Sean, she adds, “Last but not least, can I interest you in a drink?”

  By the lust in his eyes, you’d think she was standing buck-naked.

  “Sir, would you like another drink?” Her cheeks turn pink while she waits for him.

  �
�Yes, I would,” he finally says, focusing on her tits.

  She smiles coyly. “Okaayy, can you tell me what it is, so I can bring it out for you?”

  “I’ll take another Black & Tan,” he winks, tipping his mug. Someone needs to cut this prick off.

  What the hell was that? I toss a glance at Gia and Logan, but they’re too into each other to notice, scooting out of their chairs. Logan rests a hand on the small of her back, pushing her forward.

  “She left her phone in the car,” he smirks, leaning in. “It’ll be quick, man. I need this.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me. I narrow my eyes at him. “You know that ain’t smart.” Leaving us here like this.

  “Look, I’m ‘bout ready to shoot in my pants. You gonna help me out with it?”

  “Fuck no.”

  “Well, there you go. All I need is two minutes.”

  “Better hurry your pecker along then.” I glance at Gia, who now has her hands on

  her hips, probably wondering why we’re arguing. She doesn’t even know what she’s in for. “I’m startin’ the clock,” I tell him.

  He turns away and rushes her toward the exit. I readjust my hat and focus on one of the many televisions, unable to look at this guy without contemplating violence.

  A woman comes stumbling toward our table, wearing a condom hanging from her necklace and a crown on top of her head that displays the words, Bride To Be.

  “Sorry to bother you,” she says shyly. “My friends dared me to ask.”

  I glance toward her friends, who are watching from several feet behind her … all of them are giggling. I’m almost afraid to hear the question.

  A grin tugs at her lips. “Are you Luke Ryann?”

  I’m surprised she can see what’s in front of her. “Yes I am,” I tell her, amused.

  “I knew it! Would you mind if I gave you a hug? My fiancé’s a huge fan.” She sways to the right, gripping the table for balance. “I promise to leave you alone after that.” She looks back at her friends, and a few of them wave.

  I ponder the possibility that I may be wearing her vomit, but don’t want to come across as a dick. So I give the ‘Bride To Be’ what she wants, congratulate her on her nuptials, and allow her friends to snap some pictures.