Shy Kinda Love

by Deanna Eshler

  Again, my dad looks from Ryder to me, very unsure of his next words. “I never told you this,” He begins. “You hated me enough, and I was okay with that, I deserved your hate. I thought if you knew the whole truth the pain would be too much, but I can see you need the truth.” He draws in a long breath. “Once I realized what sort of business I had bought into, I wanted out. After trying to talk my way out multiple times, I knew they would never let me just walk away. So I went to the police. I went to the local police, I mean… shit… it’s not like I had a number for the FBI,” he says, gesturing to Ryder. “So, anyway, I went to the station and told an officer I had some information on the local human trafficking ring. He had me meet with the lead detective who was in charge of that specific criminal group. The guy took all my information, and told me he would get back to me in a couple of days. He told me to go about business as usual, not letting anyone know I’d talked to him. So that’s what I did. Well, two days later your mom disappeared.” I gasp, as I watch tears spill down my dad’s face. “She didn’t leave us, baby girl, they killed her because I’d gone to the police.”

  I lean into Ryder, burying my face in his shirt. I allow myself to cry for my mom who lost her life because of my dad, and I cry for my dad, who lost his wife because of his choices. Somehow, in the midst of my own pain, I feel great sadness for my father. I hear him continue to speak through his tears, so I pull my face from Ryder’s chest to listen to more words that will break my heart.

  I watch as my dad struggles, running both his hands through his hair, causing it to stand on end. Now, looking like a man who has lost control, he turns back to face me. “They took away any choice I had, Nicole. That’s what I need you to understand.” He closes the distance between us and reaches out for my hand. The little girl inside of me is desperate for this moment, so I reach out my hand and allow him to lead me to the couch. Ryder remains standing, ready to do whatever I need.

  “The choices they gave me were barely choices at all. One option was that they would take you. As horrible as your life was in our home, if they had taken you…” He trails off, then looks away from me. “Well, anyway, I know my choices weren’t right.” His face is distorted as he sobs, sniffles, and gasps for breaths between words. “After that first night, when I realized what they were going to be doing to you, for who knows how long…” Another shaky inhale and sniffle. “…I considered killing us both… but the visual of putting a gun to your head…”

  “Jesus Christ,” I hear Ryder mutter.

  Now I’m gasping and snorting as I release even more sobs. I lean into him, allowing my dad to wrap his arms around me. The gesture is so common among girls and their fathers, but for me, in this moment, it is both healing and heartbreaking. “I didn’t know what to do. I knew if I tried to get help again, I’d lose you, too.” He keeps one arm wrapped around my shoulders and uses the other hand to rub the top of my head. “I love you, baby girl. I’m so sorry I made the decision that ruined us all.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? We could have run, together.”

  “I can’t tell you how many times I considered that, planned for places for us to go, but I knew they’d find us. Kill us both,” he said. “It was as if they knew when I was planning it, too. We would go months without one of them visiting your room. I would think ‘well, maybe they aren’t paying attention,’ and I’d start planning our escape. Then, within days, one of them would come for you.”

  “I would have rather died then lived through what they did to me,” I tell him.

  He nods. “I know, and that’s why that last night,” he says, wiping at my tear-stained face, “as I watched Samuel enter your room, I knew I couldn’t do it anymore. I stood in the living room, trying to decide how to get him out of our house, when I heard you yell. I ran to your room and when I saw you under him, terrified and helpless, I decided then and there he wasn’t leaving our house alive. When I left your room, I went to get my gun. I was going to kill him and we were going to run.” He places his hands on both sides of my face. “But my baby girl was stronger than me. You had already killed him by the time I got back to the room.”

  I wrinkle my brow. “But I thought you left. I thought you left me there with him.”

  He shakes his head, and I see his eyes fill with tears again. “No, Nicole. Jesus. I know I let horrible things happen to you, but I was done being the dad that let his little girl be raped. When I got back to the room and saw he had stabbed you, and then you’d killed him, I panicked. I had no idea who to call. You needed a doctor and we needed the police, but both those people would lead the bad guys right to us.” He turns to look at Ryder., “Then Ryder came to the rescue. I don’t know how you did it, but an hour after you left, while I was still sitting on the floor of the bedroom staring at a dead body, an FBI agent walks through my front door.” My dad looks back at me. “He informs me that you’re safe and are being seen by a doctor. He also tells me that I can go into witness protection if I agree to testify.” He reaches up and places a hand at the back of my head, pulling me closer into his chest. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. I’m so sorry for everything.”

  We sit like this, me wrapped in my father’s embrace with Ryder standing over us, for several long minutes. Eventually my dad pulls back and places a kiss on the top of my head. Even though he made the mistakes that led to our family’s destruction, I can’t help but feel comforted by his touch. I know that I should recoil and yell at him to leave, but somehow I’ve just found a way to still love this man.

  “I have to go,” he says, as he kisses my head one last time and stands to leave.

  Ryder, obviously not feeling any less hate for my dad, nods and gestures to the door. I stand too, then ask, “Where will you go?”

  My dad shifts his eyes from me, to Ryder, then to the floor. He is weighing his words again. When he looks back up, he gives me a half-smile. “I’m going to go find Munro before he finds you.”

  I jerk in surprise. “What? He’ll kill you.”

  My dad reaches out one hand to cup my cheek, “That’s not the plan, but if he does, hopefully that will be enough for him and he won’t come for you.”

  I pull my face away from his touch. “Dad, you don’t have to do that. Call your marshal; it’s his job to protect you, and mine will protect me.” I know I shouldn’t care; that I should let him go because of all the times he stood by and let me be hurt, but he’s still my dad.

  He shakes his head. “It’s time for me to fight for my baby girl,” he says, just before turning and starting for the door.

  “That’s the first thing you’ve said that we can both agree on,” Ryder spits out.

  My dad glances up to me, nods, then turns and walks back out of my life.

  I fall onto the couch, pull my legs up to my chest and drop my head onto my knees. I feel someone sit next to me, then an arm slides around my shoulders. I turn my head and lay my cheek on my knees, looking at Ryder as he struggles with his own emotions. Neither of us speaks.

  After few minutes I hear someone come through the front door. Thinking it may be my dad again, I look up, but find Keegan watching me in Ryder’s arms.

  “What the hell just happened, Shy?” she asks.

  I look to Ryder, knowing he will have something to tell her. He stands and takes her by the shoulders. “You can’t tell anyone, not even Kade, about what happened here today.” Keegan tries to speak, likely to tell him she doesn’t know what happened, but he holds up a hand to stop her. “I’m gonna take Shy with me now and we’re going to try and sort this all out. Once we have some answers, we’ll be back to talk to you. Okay?” he asks.

  Keegan looks very concerned, but I know that if she promises not to tell Kade, she won’t tell Kade. After staring at Ryder, considering her options, she finally nods. Ryder’s pulls her to him and kisses her on the head. “Good girl.”

  Chapter 32

  On the drive to Ryder’s house not much is said. The only thing I ask is how Ryder knew to come. He
explains that Keegan called him when I told her to leave. I guess Keegan assumed I would let Ryder help, even though I wouldn’t let Kade.

  Once we get to his house and barely through the door, Ryder turns to me. “Talk.”

  This boy knows how to get straight to the point. I let out a long breath that I may have been holding for the entire drive, then walk to the living room and claim a seat on the couch.

  “Ryder, I’m not even sure what all just happened.” I drop my head in my hands, beginning to feel the stress of the last hour in every part of my body.

  Ryder has not yet sat down so I hear him stalking around the couch to the front windows. “I’m gonna need more talking, baby,” he tells me, seeming way too calm for the situation. I lift my head to see him standing with his back to me, hands in his pockets, looking out the window. Although his posture appears relaxed, I can see the tension in the muscles across his back and shoulders. He is trying to look calm. For me?

  I lean back into the couch and decide to just put it all out there, not having the energy to screen what Ryder already knows against what I discussed with my dad today. I run down the conversation, from me seeing my dad, to the moment when Ryder got there. I’m sure I left out some details, since I was virtually in shock during most of that time.

  At some point during my ramble, Ryder comes to sit next to me on the couch. As I finish my story he reaches over and picks up my hand in his. “I’ll take care of this. I’ll call Hudson now,” he says, referring to the U.S. marshal assigned to me. He’ll come and help us sort this all out. Also, I’m calling a couple of my guys, who can be here even sooner.”

  Unsure how to respond to his plan of attack, I say something that is bothering me. “I cried for him, Ryder. When he was talking about losing my mom, then about watching me slowly die, I felt my heart breaking a little more. What the hell is wrong with me? What kind of person feels bad for a father that used them the way he used me? What kind of person still wants that father to love her?”

  Ryder squeezes me a little tighter. “The kind of person who has a heart and is able to love, regardless of what she believes of herself.”

  I pull back and look up at him. “I don’t want to love. Love and trust is what caused all of this pain.”

  Ryder tilts his head and arches a brow. “Shy, do you really believe you can go the rest of your life without falling in love, or ever trusting someone? You can’t let that asshole of a father take that from you.”

  It’s then that I realize what has to happen. I look at Ryder and tell him what he probably already knows. “I’m already in love, and now I have to leave him.” I stare at Ryder, waiting for him to tell me I’m wrong. “I’m going to be relocated, aren’t I?”

  Ryder just watches me as I let all the pieces fall into place. My dad is right; if he found me, then Marco can surely find me. He has always been able to elude the police and the FBI, so he will be able to do it again. Even if my father finds him, Marco will be ready for him. So, my mother is dead, my father will be soon, and I have to leave Kade and my friends.

  “Ryder, what am I going to do,” I breathe out. “Kade and I just got good. I can’t leave him… ” I clutch at my chest, unable to say it all out loud. My life is over… again.

  Ryder pulls me tight against him. “I’m so sorry, baby. You don’t deserve any of this, yet you keep getting hit.”

  “I have to let him go, Ryder.” I say what we both already knew.

  “I’m so sorry, baby,” he replies, knowing there is no other choice to make.

  A few minutes later, Ryder kisses my forehead, retrieves his phone from the floor, and tells me he needs to make a few calls. I roll over, facing the back of the couch, and close my eyes. Emotionally and physically exhausted, I’m asleep before Ryder begins his first call.

  ***

  When I wake up, Ryder and I are not alone. He introduces me to “one of his guys,” Smoke. I don’t even have the energy to ask where he got his name. I honestly don’t care. Ryder fills me in on his conversation with Hudson. “He’s going to be here in about an hour.”

  I need one last night with Kade. One last night.

  I nod, letting him know I heard him, then go to take a shower. It’s after ten p.m. and I haven’t talked to Kade all day. I’m sure he’s texted me several times. Once I’m dressed and ready to go, I find Ryder and Smoke in the kitchen, both sitting at the island. “I’m going to see Kade,” I announce to the room.

  Ryder’s head snaps up. “You’re keeping that ass right here,” he says.

  I shake my head. “No, Ryder, if I have to leave him, I at least get this one last night with him.”

  Ryder closes his eyes and I see his jaw muscle twitch. “I’m taking you,” he insists.

  I shake my head again. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I’ll only be gone for a couple hours. I just need to see him.”

  Ryder draws in a long breath, looking very frustrated. “What are you going to tell him?”

  I shrug. “I have no idea. Probably nothing. This will be my goodbye, not his.”

  Not allowing time for further arguments, I pick up my purse, grab Ryder’s keys, and tell him, “I’m taking your car.”

  Chapter 33

  On the drive back to my apartment, back to Kade, I try to shove away all the details of the day. I have no idea what I’m going to say to him; the only thing I know right now is that I need to be in Kade’s arms, in Kade’s bed, one last night.

  As much as I want to drag this out, look for other options; options I know don’t exist. Not letting go, is not an option.

  I text Kade when I’m parked in our driveway, asking if he is in bed. I’ve missed several texts from him today. At first he was just checking in, then he became concerned when I didn’t respond. He responds letting me know he’s in his room finishing schoolwork.

  Feeling as though I am about to walk myself down death row to the execution chamber, I pull myself out of my car. The first few steps are slow and heavy, my body not wanting to make the journey. As I get closer to the house, I lift my head and try to remove the expression of misery from my face. Max is on the couch watching TV when I enter their apartment. He says hello and I attempt a smile for him, but I’m sure my face looks like it hurts. Although I spent several years hiding my history and real name, I’m a horrible actress.

  I drop my eyes to the floor, not wanting to see the curious look I’m sure Max is wearing. When I get to Kade’s door, I knock as I enter. Kade is sitting at his desk, chair facing me. “Hey, Filly,” he says, reaching out a hand for me.

  Swallowing back the sob that threatens with his words, I close the distance and take his hand in mine. He tugs, trying to pull me into his lap. I shake my head and tell him, “I’m tired. Can we lie down?” I’m struggling to hide the shaking in my voice and the tears in my eyes.

  When Kade doesn’t instantly stand, I glance back to see the look of concern he is not hiding. “What’s wrong, Shy? I haven’t heard from you all day. Now you look like you’re about to cry, or you’ve already been crying.”

  I drop his hand and walk to the bed, needing to catch my breath. I pull back the sheets and crawl in then roll so that I am facing Kade. “It’s just been one of those days.” I shrug, trying to play down my level of misery. Kade stands and walks to the bed, pausing to stand over me. His hands are in his pockets, head tilted slightly, watching my expression closely. I maintain his gaze, knowing that if I look away he will ask a hundred more questions. So I stare into his eyes as he looks through me; inside me. I know he sees more than I want him to see, but he says nothing. Instead he lifts one knee onto the bed and places one hand next to me, near my ribcage.

  After pulling his other leg onto the bed, Kade positions his other arm; his elbow is against my ribs, and his hand curls up under my shoulder. I lift both of my hands to his face and pull his lips down to mine. As I feel his lips open slightly and then his tongue gently sweep across my bottom lip, my heart picks up pace. Thoughts of this being our last night
together are at the front of my mind. He leans to one side, taking all his weight with him. He pulls away from the kiss as he takes one of his hands to remove one of mine from his face. I know he can feel that something has shifted.

  Kade takes our hands and places them on his chest. Saying nothing, we sit like this for at least a full minute. Looking into Kade’s eyes I know what he is trying to ask me without using words. I can’t stand to see the emotions in his eyes, knowing what I have to do. The moment becomes so intense that I have to break it. I pull him down and kiss him. In that look, this moment, this kiss, I know what I am going to do.

  These last couple months have been the best of my life. I’ve opened up and shared my story. I’ve embraced my relationships with friends, and I’ve learned to let others love me. I have also fallen in love. Now I have to let that love go. Knowing I have to walk away from Kade again, this time forever, I decide I am going to take one more thing from him; give one more thing to him. Kade is the only person I have ever trusted with my body, and now I am going to let him take it all. I can’t imagine ever having this trust with another guy, and I want to experience the intimacy of making love. I want this night with Kade to replace all of those horrible nights from my teenage years.

  Giving this to him and then walking away is going to kill him. I know that. Perhaps that’s part of why I need to do this. The pain I will inflict when I leave may be what keeps Kade from chasing after me.

  I pull back from the kiss, pull my hand from his, and reach down to lift his shirt. As I’m adjusting my position to better remove his shirt, Kade stops my hand with his. I pull back from the kiss and see the question in his eyes. “Kade, I’m ready. I’m more than ready,” I tell him, knowing he is going to need a lot more convincing.

  I can almost see the thoughts processing as I watch his eyes change from question to concern. “Is this what has been bothering you? Do you think I need this? That I can’t wait until you’re ready?”