by Joya Ryan
“You’re a modest one, aren’t you?” Gwen winked. “So, you two met at the gala,” she pushed. “You from New York, then?”
“No. Chicago, actually.”
“Oh, lovely city. What brought you to New York?”
I cleared my throat, hoping to get a few spare seconds to figure out how to handle that line of questioning. Before I could think too hard, Rhys answered for me. “Emma was in the city for work.”
Gwen nodded. “I see. Is your work in New York temporary or . . .” She was obviously fishing for how serious Rhys and I were and geographical location was a huge clue to that.
“Yes, she’s in New York temporarily,” Rhys said. “She’ll be going back to Chicago in a few weeks. Just visiting here.”
“Oh.” Gwen’s face fell. “New York is much better than Chicago in some ways,” she offered in a chipper tone. I appreciated that she liked the idea of me sticking around. “Unless, is that where your family is, dear?”
“My brother and his wife are in Chicago,” I said.
“Parents?”
I looked up to see Gwen’s sweet gray eyes, the same eyes Rhys had, waiting for my answer. This is why I didn’t date. Why I didn’t do the “meet the parents” thing.
“My parents, ah . . .”
Rhys jumped in, cutting me off. “That’s not a good subject to talk about, Mom.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry.” She reached across the table and patted my hand. “Sometimes I get too nosy.”
I wanted to glare at Rhys so bad. Was he so embarrassed by my upbringing that he didn’t want his mother to know about it?
“I can talk about it,” I stated. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Yes, it is,” Rhys snapped.
“You don’t have to, dear,” Gwen offered. Now I felt embarrassed because an issue had been made where there didn’t need to be one. How do I get out of this? Say something? Put my head down in shame and shut up? I hated this position I was put in. And worse, hated that Rhys was appalled enough to cut me off before saying the truth about what I was and how I was raised.
Fuck it. I was going with the truth. And if Rhys was that mortified by his mother knowing, then it was best I learn that now.
“I was given up at birth. I never knew my parents.”
“Oh,” Gwen said a little shocked. “That must have been tough. So you have your adopted parents, then?”
“Nope,” I said and took a bite of food, coming off every bit as easy as I felt. Because it was the truth, one Rhys was obviously not thrilled about. “I was never adopted.”
Gwen’s expression fell, then she frowned and balled her fists. “Well, that’s their loss, honey. You’re obviously a very bright, very special girl.”
Her compliment seemed so sincere and had the same inflection Rhys’s voice sometimes held. Just another reminder that he was raised right while I was raised by the state. Barely.
The rest of dinner was fairly quiet and all I could think about was what type of conversation Rhys would want to have later, because I had plenty that I wanted to say to him.
~
“You’re upset,” Rhys said as he opened the front door of the hunting cabin and walked in.
“You’re so astute,” I said, crossing my arms in the same way he did when he was squaring off to “chat.”
“My mother is nosy, but she means well,” he said defensively.
“She was fine, my issue is with you.”
“What did I do?”
“You embarrassed me at dinner.”
“I embarrassed you?” he said and the tone of his voice made me pause.
“Is there something you’re upset with me about?”
He shook his head. “You just talk about certain things like it’s casual conversation and it’s not.”
“Your mom asked me a question and you cut me off. Are you so afraid that my past and the fact that I have no parents would make you look bad?”
“I didn’t think it was something you would want to talk about,” he said.
“Oh, really? And why is that? Because you’re still on this kick that you know me so well? That you automatically assume what I can and can’t handle? I’m a big fucking girl, and I don’t need you stepping in and defending me from myself.” Anger was rising, bubbling just beneath the surface of my skin.
“Forgive me for trying to make things easier on you.” He took off his jacket and tossed it on the table.
“I don’t need you to make anything easy on me,” I yelled. “I’m not a lost puppy and I’m not some cute woman that will break at the slightest mention of something.”
“You’re right. You are the most stubborn, self-deluding woman I’ve ever met. You’re here because you’re lost, yet you deny it.”
My chest stilled for a moment. “That was a shitty thing to say,” I growled. “You wanted me to be honest, and I have been. Yet you refuse to see what’s right in front of you.”
“Oh, I see you, Emma.”
“Do you? Because if you did, you’d see that I’m not the kind of woman that needs saving all the time. I’m in a tough spot right now, yes. And I’m not too proud to say that I enjoy being alive and would like to stay that way. But this trip you’re on about trying to erase what I am — it isn’t going to work.”
“I don’t like the idea of you . . .” He waved his hand in the air.
“Of me, what?”
“Of you suffering,” he snapped.
Something in my chest hurt. Instantly and acutely. I was angry at him for the crap he pulled, but then he goes and says things like that. Like he cares. But it didn’t matter. My past was what made me who I am. If he couldn’t handle that, he couldn’t handle me. And that thought made that stupid pain in my chest skyrocket further.
“This is why we have problems. We’re from opposite worlds, don’t you get it? You like me? Well, good for you. I like you too. But what the hell does that mean? Nothing. You know why? Because you don’t like how I came to be and my guess is, you never will. And I’m never going to have a medal for anything nor am I going to sashay around in a pantsuit driving a minivan to yoga. And you’re never going to understand me.”
He stepped closer. “That’s where you’re wrong. No, I may not understand everything about you, but I see you. And I fucking hate the fact that you had to go through what you did. No, I don’t like your past, but that has nothing to do with today.”
“But it does. Because it is what it is.”
He shook his head, like he couldn’t accept it. And somewhere in my mind, it was like he couldn’t accept me.
“You can’t save everyone. I called out for help once and you came. Don’t mistake that for meaning that my entire existence is in need of your kind of fixing.” I stepped closer. “And you may see me, but I’ve got your number too. You won’t admit to your own shit, yet you criticize me.”
“I’m not criticizing you and I’ve answered your questions.”
“Oh yeah? You gave the overview of your past, but what the hell happened overseas that makes you clam up every time it’s mentioned?”
He stilled and his chest heaved with obviously irritated inhales.
“You can’t say it, can you?” I tilted my head to examine him. “Because it’s bad, isn’t it?”
His nostrils flared and his eyes went vacant for a moment like he was recalling the very thing I was challenging him to think about.
He wouldn’t respond. I shook my head and walked past him toward the front door. My eyes were dry, my bones achy and my chest throbbing. Emotions were heavy and I was buckling under the pressure. I needed some time to think. Some space to gauge what the hell was happening to me and what to do next.
“Instead of being so keen on saving everyone, maybe look at what puts them in danger in the first place.” I opened the front door.
“Where are you going?” Rhys asked.
“I need to clear my head.”
He looked at me for a long moment. “I’ll leave and you can stay he
re.”
“That’s the opposite of what I want. I need to get out of here. Space. You said this town was safe.”
“Fine.” He walked toward me, dug his keys out of his pocket, and handed them to me. “Then take the car.” He grabbed his wallet and pulled out a fifty. “And here. Stay in town.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“Then I’ll come with you.”
“I just need some time, alone.”
“I get that. But you need money just in case you stop somewhere.” Even on the brink of a storm out, he was being gentlemanly. “Either take it or I come with you, Emma.”
I groaned, swiped the fifty and walked out.
I climbed into the car, knowing deep in my heart that Rhys was hurting, that he was a good man and that we would never be on the same page, because we were already in different books.
Chapter Ten
It was nine o’ clock and the only thing open was the damn diner. Seriously, nine and the town shut down? I was already missing the big city where there was always light and something to do. Of course, there were also stalkers.
I contemplated taking the fifty bucks and half a tank of gas and leaving for good. Aside from that being a financially stupid idea, there was something else gnawing at me that just wouldn’t allow my foot to stay wedged on the gas for too long. Rhys.
I couldn’t take off, couldn’t leave him. He had helped me, continued to do so, and for seemingly no other reason than that he was a good guy. My plan to find a flaw in him was failing miserably. I was aware of it, but not happy about it.
I yanked open the diner door hoping Sara wasn’t working and I could just have a glass of something and think in peace for a bit.
Though the place was open, it was pretty much dead. I went and sat at the counter and — ah shit.
“Emma?” Sara greeted me as she walked around the corner and behind the counter, her hair in a tight ponytail and not looking the least bit mangled or makeup smudged.
“Hi, Sara.”
She smiled and looked around. “Rhys not with you tonight?”
“Nope, just me.”
She seemed equal parts happy and disappointed about that and I knew exactly which parts went with which.
“Can I get you something to drink? Eat?”
“I’ll just have a coffee and pour half a shot of rum in it if you would.” Just enough to taste the burn but still be able to drive later.
“Oh, okay,” she said and poured the coffee, then went to the other side of the bar to get the rum and put a shot in. She handed it to me with the same confused look she wore while examining my pancakes the other night.
“Thanks.”
I thought that would be it. Order a drink and typically the waitress gives you space. But no. Apparently Sara was feeling talkative and the world obviously wanted me to understand that a silent moment wouldn’t be happening for me.
“So, where are you from?” she asked.
“Chicago.” I took a sip of coffee. Not trying to be rude, but I just wanted a moment to clear my head. Besides, I was pretty certain I had nothing in common with Sara aside from Rhys. And even that was a stretch because she had been engaged to him while I was just . . . what? Hanging out? Hiding out? There was no title for whatever he and I were doing, which showed right there how lost I really was.
Sara nodded. “I hear Chicago is quite a place. Is that where you met Rhys?”
There it was. The real reason behind her new and obviously not nearly close to finished line of questioning. She wanted details on Rhys and me.
“No.” I wasn’t going to give out more information than necessary, especially since technically I was supposed to be lying low.
Sara could pretend all she wanted, but it was obvious she didn’t care for me. The way her upper lip pursed and she always found a way to look down at me was a dead giveaway. Which was fine. I wasn’t her biggest fan, either. Any woman who could cheat on Rhys was an automatic idiot in my book.
“So where did you meet?”
“New York.” I took another sip of my spiked coffee.
“You two been together long?”
I set the cup down and looked at her. “Why?”
“Pardon?” She blinked a few times, like my single-word question had physically slapped her in the face.
“Why do you want to know how long Rhys and I have been together?”
I used the term “together” loosely.
“Just making conversation.” She smiled and it looked more like something that got plastered to her face than an actual expression of happiness. “Curious about how a good friend of my mine is doing is all.”
“Good friend? You guys are exes.”
“Well, around here you can still be friends with your ex,” she snipped.
“Look, I don’t know you, and I don’t know the relationship you have with Rhys. But we can cut the shit. You and I aren’t friends. I know enough to know I don’t like you purely on principle.”
Her mouth dropped. “He told you?”
“Yeah, he did. And you cheating on him isn’t my business, but I’m not going to sit here and pretend I’m okay with you hurting him the way you did.” I don’t know why I said that, but I felt the need to point out her mistake and defend Rhys.
“Oh, that . . .” Her shoulders relaxed like cheating wasn’t a big deal. What the hell was her problem?
“What did you think I meant?”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter now. But you should really have all your facts before you go around accusing.”
“I wasn’t accusing, I was informing you of why I don’t care to have a conversation with you. I don’t like my business being pried into just like I’m sure you don’t like yours.”
She smiled and shook her head. “You have no idea what kind of man he is, do you?”
What the hell was with this woman? Now she was offensive and almost cackling with some kind of weird evil grin, like a villain unveiling a doomsday plan.
“I have a good idea about the kind of man Rhys is. A good one,” I said.
In that moment, what we had fought about came rushing back. I did understand him. Enough to be talking to wholesome nurse Barbie here and getting thoroughly pissed because she didn’t have a clue as to the amazing man I’d come to know.
“I can see how you’d think that about Rhys,” Sara said, fluffing her ponytail and talking casually. “Some people are reachers.” Her eyes landed on me and there was something scorned there. Something hiding behind the chipper girl next door façade. “And that’s always been Rhys’s problem. He constantly reaches for women who are beyond him. It’s like he needs a project person.”
She openly ran her glare over my entire body, as if she were looking at a barrel of toxic sludge.
“You see, Emma, the reason Rhys and I didn’t work out, was because there was nothing about me to fix. I knew it and so did he. He may not have physically strayed, but he left our relationship long before I did.”
This woman was all kinds of bitchy. My hand was twitching with wanting to slap her so badly. I didn’t even care that she was insulting me by association. I was furious that she was tearing down Rhys. And that shit wouldn’t fly. I shook my head and took one last swallow of coffee.
“You’re bitter because you lost an incredible man and it’s obvious you’re making a play to get him back. And that’s fine.” I shrugged. “You can go after whoever you want. I’m not Rhys’s keeper.”
Something in me wanted to mark him and demand everyone acknowledge that he was mine. The notion was ludicrous.
I leaned in and looked at her the way I did when I stared down Box-Top Freddy twelve years ago when I caught him stealing my shoes. Whatever came from behind my eyes made Sara take a step back and swallow hard. “But if I ever hear you say or even insinuate a single negative word about Rhys Striker again, you and I are going to have problems.”
She pursed her lips and lifted her chin a little but she was nervous, as we
ll she should be. I didn’t like the way she was trying to blame Rhys. Didn’t like the way she looked at me and called me a “project person.” Because truth was, I already knew Rhys took on things like this. Felt it in how he treated me. Like I was a wounded dove in need of fixing. But Sara took my bad mood and confused mind to a whole new level.
My grand plan of getting space and thinking just turned into a fuckall storm with Rhys’s ex and her two cents now swarming dead center.
“How much for the coffee?” I said.
Sara just put her hands on her hips and took a deep breath. “It’s on the house.”
“Thanks.” I stood up and when I got to the diner door, I turned back and told her, “Rhys doesn’t reach for things he has no interest in obtaining.”
Sara’s face fell a little. Good. She needed to realize that Rhys was the catch in all this.
~
After I drove around for a bit, I finally came back to the cabin around eleven and had no more peace of mind than I’d left with. I thought about what Sara had said. There was something about Rhys that screamed protector. Problem was, I didn’t know what to do with that. There was a line between need and shame. A big part of me was feeling like I needed Rhys in certain ways, but that idea was shameful to someone like me.
I didn’t want to be looked at with pity, or sadness, or anything else. I didn’t want to be saved. That ship had sailed a long time ago and I didn’t need saving — not anymore. But there was something about Rhys I connected with. A sense of loss. Like we were both lost in some way. Both running from things in the shadows of our past.
I opened the front door of the cabin quietly and peeked in. Dark, except for a small lamp near the corner. With the back of the couch facing me, I could see Rhys’s long legs sticking out at the end.
I placed the keys next to his wallet on the kitchen table. Taking the fifty-dollar bill from my pocket, I picked up his wallet, opened it and slipped the money back in.