* * *
The next few days passed quickly for Ryan. He’d moved out of Crystal’s room the day they’d shared the pizza with Callie, finding another hotel where he wouldn’t have to run into her.
He’d been furious with Crystal for trying to hurt Leila, but he’d also been glad to see that the comment about his supposed girlfriend hadn’t fazed Leila. Obviously, her feelings for him only scratched the surface, and she’d be off and running in no time. Now that her daughter was well, she could get on with her own life and find a little happiness for herself. She’d meet a nice man, settle down with him, and live happily ever after.
Why the hell did that bother him so much? He wanted her to be happy, didn’t he? She was much too young to be a widow forever. Callie would enjoy having a father figure around, and as she entered her teenage years, a guiding hand would keep her on track.
A man like him sure wouldn’t be of any use. What did he know about living up to expectations and staying clean and out of trouble? Hell, he’d done just about everything a man could do without killing himself from stupidity. He was anything but a role model.
No. A woman like Leila would marry a university type, someone with a PhD who’d wear tweed jackets with leather patches at the elbows. And corduroy pants. And plaid shirts. Or, even worse, polo shirts. He’d keep an unused pipe in his jacket pocket.
Oh, poor Leila. Maybe he should stick around a little longer and save her from that fate.
He had half a mind to tell the taxi driver to turn around and take him back to the little white Victorian house on the outskirts of Princeton. But his flight was leaving in a couple of hours and he’d best be on it. He’d made enough mistakes in his life and he didn’t need to make more. Sure as anything, if he hung around Leila long enough he’d never want to leave, and then his idyllic world would be totally screwed up.
It had taken him years to rebuild himself from the inside out, to make a good life for himself. He liked who he was, and he liked what he did for a living. How many men could go to work each day and be surrounded by turquoise seas, a clear blue sky, fascinating marine life, and pretty girls looking for adventure?
How much better could it get?
He’d have to have his head examined if he even considered giving up paradise and staying in Princeton. It would never happen anyway. He wasn’t the settling down type, for starters. He was the love ’em and leave ’em type, remember?
“Here we are, sir.” The driver checked his fare. “That’ll be $110.”
Ryan paid the man and hauled his bag out of the trunk. He walked through the swinging doors into the airport terminal and found the check-in counter for Qantas.
The line was long and slow, and by the time Ryan reached the front of it, he was ready to snarl. He was a lousy traveler. He hated waiting, lines, chatty strangers, pre-packaged food, and flying unless he was in the pilot’s seat. Still, he was anxious to leave and forced his bad temper back down.
He handed his ticket to the agent and asked if the flight was on time.
“Yes, sir, but this flight is overbooked, so we’re asking for volunteers to give up their seat today and fly out tomorrow. We’re offering compensation, of course.”
“No, thanks. But I was hoping I might be able to upgrade my ticket from coach to business. Those skybeds looked pretty comfortable.”
“Sorry, sir. We are completely full, business class included.”
“Okay. Just don’t put me near any screaming kids.”
“We could give you an exit row. No kids allowed.”
“Fine. That works.” Within minutes, he had his boarding pass and was lined up to go through security. This line was even longer than the first one, and he’d used up all of his patience. He still had a couple of hours left. Time for a beer. Perhaps by that time the line would be shorter. Or his patience longer.
He hopped out of line and went to the nearest bar. Sat down and ordered a Fosters.
He took a long drink, enjoying the cool refreshing beverage sliding down his throat. He wondered what Callie was doing right now. She’d be going home in another week, and she sure was antsy to get out of that hospital. Couldn’t blame her none. He’d only been there overnight, and that had been one night too many.
Would Leila be with her now? Or was she using the remainder of her free time before her daughter came home to sneak in a date or two? She was hot-blooded, he knew that. And even though she hadn’t slept with anyone since Nick died, her hormones were on overdrive now. He hadn’t meant to start something, but like always, when he was around, things just happened.
Shit.
He rubbed his hand over his eyes, and an image of his parents flashed into his mind. Anger simmered just below the surface, like a boiler pot ready to explode.
Well, he just wouldn’t let it, that’s all.
He polished off his beer and ordered another. His father had always called him a quitter, a loser, and ridiculed him because he hadn’t been smart in school. But to be called a coward in front of Leila and Callie had definitely been one of the low points in his life. The fact that he had been hiding in the bathroom—like a coward—only made it worse.
A lot of unfinished business lay between his father and him, and maybe one day, before the old man croaked, he’d figure out what was really bugging his dad. Hell, he knew better than anyone that all people were not created equal, and he couldn’t even blame his parents for favoring Nick. He had been special, no doubt about it.
But he hadn’t set out to be the village idiot. He’d tried to do well in school, and maybe if his ADHD had been diagnosed earlier, he would have gotten the help he needed. But he’d been stuck in special ed classes that had bored the shit out of him, and it had gone downhill from there.
The bartender checked his glass. “Would you like another beer?”
He shook his head. Without conscious thought, he played with the coasters, arranging them into neat little rows. The simple act of keeping things neat and orderly reduced his stress level. His heart rate slowed down, and he felt reasonably calm—as much as someone who hated waiting around could in an airport.
He wondered if the line in security had lessened any. Grabbing his carry-on, he left the bar and headed back to the checkpoint. The line now appeared endless; it must have doubled while he’d been in the bar.
That was it. He was not going to wait. Whatever compensation they offered, he’d gladly take it. No way could he deal with this big of a crowd. He returned to the ticket counter, handed back his boarding pass, and was told he’d be upgraded to first class on the next flight out and would receive the equivalent in air miles, so his next flight would be free.
He grabbed a taxi and told the driver to take him to Princeton. Sometimes, second chances came along when they were least expected, and he was seizing this one. He had some unfinished business to attend to. And it was time to settle old scores.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
He called Leila on his cell phone.
“I was at the airport and the flight was full,” he told her. “I volunteered my seat, so I’m here for another day. I’d like to see you, Leila.”
“You would?” she said warily.
“I would. But first, I need to go to say good-bye to my parents. Do they still live in the old house?”
“Ryan, you’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?”
“No. I just want some questions answered. I think it’s about time. Don’t you?”
“I think it may be too late for that.” He heard her sigh, then she told him his parents had moved a few years after he left for Australia. She told him the address, adding, “But please don’t make me regret giving it to you.”
“I won’t, and thanks. I’ll see you later, right?”
“Yes. Good luck with your parents, Ryan. I hope, whatever the outcome, that it brings you peace.”
“Not likely for that to happen.”
“Then why—”
“Because it’s time.” He hung up.
>
* * *
Leila’s heart was pounding with excitement. She tried to tell herself not to get her hopes up, that he was only coming to say good-bye. But when did hearts ever listen to reason? Besides, how often do second chances come along when least expected? She was grabbing this one.
She ran around the house tidying up, making sure everything was lined up correctly, just the way Ryan liked it. Then she took a shower and washed and dried her hair. Yes, she was primping, but she didn’t care. This would be the last time she would see him for a very long time, and she wanted to look her best.
She took special care with her makeup, then dressed in a new pair of tight jeans. Glancing in her full length mirror she checked out her butt and was happy she’d dished out all that money for Sevens. She topped the jeans with a silk shirt that brought out the blue in her eyes.
She smiled at the mirror, feeling incredibly happy and hopeful. Ryan wasn’t leaving town until tomorrow and she had the house to herself. A little seduction might go a long way. She certainly had nothing to lose.
* * *
Ryan paid the driver and watched him leave. He stood on the curb looking at the house, wondering what in the world he was doing standing in front of his parents’ home. Why had he come? What did he have to say to them after all these years? It was a little late for explanations, and even later for forgiveness.
He should keep on walking and never look back. Still his feet took him up the front path, and a moment later he was ringing the doorbell. He could hear footsteps as someone approached the door.
He swallowed hard and felt perspiration dampen his shirt. Dammit! Why was he afraid to face them? They couldn’t hurt him anymore. He didn’t care what they thought of him. He hadn’t cared for years.
The door opened, and his mother gasped when she saw him. She actually took a step back, then recovered and invited him in.
“I’m so glad you came,” she said.
He didn’t say a word, but followed her down the hall into a formal living room, where obviously they entertained guests—and sons who were more like strangers.
The house, he noticed, was crowded with furnishings and antiques, and art hung on every wall. It was too busy for his taste, but then his taste ran toward minimalistic. He deplored clutter.
The room faced a lush garden, and he imagined his mother spent most of her time in it from April through October. Even when he was a child his mother had spent hours in her gardens, and he remembered the joy it had brought her.
“You’ve done a nice job,” he said to her.
“Thank you. I still enjoy it,” she added with a faint smile. “The weather is pleasant tonight. Would you like to sit outside?”
“No. I’ll only stay for a few minutes. I wanted to speak to Jack.” He couldn’t use the word father. It left a sour taste in his mouth.
“I’ll go get him. He was reading the paper and fell asleep in his chair.” She smiled with obvious affection for her husband. “Would you like tea?”
“No. I don’t need anything.” His mother left, and he wanted to bolt himself. It took great willpower for him to sit down in one of the armchairs and act nonchalant.
He could hear his father grumbling as his wife woke him up. Then he bellowed, “What’s he doing here?”
Heat flooded Ryan’s body, and he stood up, ready for what lay ahead. He was glad his father was angry, because his anger fueled his own.
Not wanting to wait for his father, he walked out into the hall and followed their voices to the family room.
“I have a few things to say,” he announced as he walked into the room, “and then I’ll be off. You’ll never have to see my face again.”
“Good,” Jack said. “What do you want with me?”
“The truth.” Tension clamped down on his shoulders and the back of his neck. He flexed his muscles to release the strain.
“You know the truth. You were never any good, and the wrong son died.”
His mother made a gasping noise. “Now, Jack. That is a terrible thing to say. You don’t mean that.”
“You know I do, Margaret, and so do you.”
“No! It’s not true. I loved both my boys.” She seemed to wilt before his eyes. Her face lost its luster and went slack, and she sank into a chair.
Ryan braced himself for a head-on with his father. “Where was Nick the night Corbin Bradley died?”
“How should I know? I wasn’t your brother’s keeper.” His father leaned his head to the side, watching him with his one good eye.
“You know,” Ryan said quietly. “You’re just not telling.”
“Meaning what?”
“Nick was a good lawyer because he knew things weren’t always black or white, that there were lots of gray areas. He also knew he’d never get caught.”
“Go to hell. Don’t try to pin anything on that boy.”
“Ryan,” Margaret began, “I’m not sure if bringing this up now is going to do anyone any good. Nick is dead, God rest his soul. And that other poor fellow is too. Let’s forget it and talk about something different.”
“It wasn’t an accident, Mother. I’m damn sure it was Nick.”
“No, it couldn’t be,” his mother whispered, but Ryan could see the doubt in her eyes.
He nodded. “The reason nobody looked at Nick as a suspect was because they were too busy pointing their finger at me.”
“So what if he did?” Jack yelled. “I’m not saying he did it, but if he did, so what? Justice was served, you were out of jail, and the law had nothing on you. You got away scot free.”
“Nobody believed me, dammit! I was innocent on both charges, but even my friends looked at me funny. You.” He jerked his chin at his father. “You knew I wasn’t guilty, but you washed your hands of me.”
“You took off for Australia. That wasn’t my doing.” Jack turned his chair toward the hall, as if eager to escape.
“I had to start somewhere fresh. How could anyone think I was innocent when my own family turned against me?”
“You’re nothing but a cry-baby,” Jack thundered. “Nick did your dirty work for you, because you never had the guts.”
“You knew all along, didn’t you?”
His mother stared at her husband. “Is it true, Jack? Is it true?”
He didn’t say anything for the longest time, then his shoulders slumped in defeat. All the anger and fight seemed to leave him. He nodded, and tears streamed down his cheeks.
“Something woke me up. I got out of bed and looked out the window. Nick was washing the car, and it was after midnight.” He rubbed a shaky hand over his face. “I knew something wasn’t right.”
“You never told anyone,” Ryan said quietly.
Jack ignored him, lost in his memories. “Damn fool. I had to protect him.” He looked at his wife, asking for forgiveness. “I couldn’t see another son of mine go to jail. You see that, don’t you?”
His mother didn’t answer. She looked at Ryan with grief stricken eyes, and then walked to the window, staring out at her garden.
“Now we’ve finally arrived at the truth,” Ryan said. “There was only one murderer in this family, and it wasn’t me.”
“He did it for you,” Jack whispered. “He was a good brother, a good son, and he loved you.”
“Yes. But I was already free. He didn’t have to kill for me.”
No one had anything more to say.
Ryan touched his father’s shoulder, and walked over to kiss his mother’s cheek. “Good-bye, Mother.” With that, he turned and left.
CHAPTER FORTY
A sense of calm enveloped Ryan as the cab drove him closer to Leila’s house. All the anger, bitterness, and frustration that he’d carried around for years were gone. Just like that.
He thought about telling Leila what he’d learned tonight, about Nick, and decided against it. He didn’t want to destroy her wonderful memories of him, and to sully Nick’s reputation now would only hurt the ones he’d loved.
&
nbsp; Although he’d never been a whistling man, he was in a whistling kind of mood. Out came a tune that sounded a little like Waltzing Matilda, and it made him grin and laugh. Damn but he felt good—like a new man. He couldn’t even feel the lingering ache in his side. He was whole, he was fit, and mentally he’d never felt better. Having confronted his past and laid his demons to rest, there was only one last piece of business to take care of.
Leila. He was in love with her and, dammit, he deserved love as much as the next guy. Heck. Maybe more. She might have loved his brother, but he knew she cared for him and that her feelings ran deep. With any luck at all, by this time tomorrow he would be on that flight to Australia knowing that Leila was his. They’d have all sorts of logistical problems to work out—such as where they were going to live—but he had faith that they’d reach a solution. After all, the most important thing was being together, being a family.
The thought of having a family again, no longer filled him with dread. Quite the opposite. He felt rich and powerful, like a man who’d won the lotto or been crowned king.
* * *
Leila opened the door, astonished when Ryan swept her into his arms. Whatever she’d expected, it certainly wasn’t that.
“What are you doing?” She laughed, pretending to fight him off, when in reality all she wanted was to grab on tight.
“Making amends,” he answered lightly, and gave her a long and thorough kiss.
She licked her lips, loving the plump fullness that his kiss had inspired. “Amends for what? You had every right to be disappointed in me. I let you down.”
“You never let me down. You could never do that.” He nuzzled her neck. “I was unreasonable. There, I admit it!” His arms were still around her waist, and he was smiling down at her. “My parents are a different story, but I no longer even care about that. I’m so glad I confronted them, and we talked things out.”
“You did? That’s wonderful.” She touched his cheek, gazing into his eyes. “Does that mean all is forgiven?”
He laughed. “No, it doesn’t.” He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her mouth, until she trembled, weak with love. “It simply means I no longer give a shit.”
ESCAPE INTO ROMANCE- 4 Book Bundle Page 24