“He made a mistake,” Ryder said. “He thought he was doing it to protect his mother and you.”
Jared seemed surprised by Ryder’s statement, but he nodded. “That’s exactly what he thought. How did you—”
“He told me. He apologized for shooting me and told me that he was just trying to protect his family, to take care of them before he went off to college. He didn’t think he could leave them in that neighborhood and expect them to be safe. But he didn’t want to stay there, either.”
Jared nodded. “That’s what he told me the night before it all happened. I told him he was crazy, and that it wouldn’t go right. I was afraid it was my fault after it all went down because I’d jinxed him somehow.”
That though saddened Kelly. It was hard to remember that they were talking about children here. Jordan was only sixteen when all this happened. And Jared was fifteen. They were just kids.
Ryder dragged his fingers through his hair and sat back, his attention everywhere but on Jared. Kelly lay her hand on his knee, but he didn’t seem to feel it.
“I was glad to find out the two of you were here, Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield because I’ve been carrying around a lot of guilt after seeing that file. I knew Jordan was part of the gang, knew he had the drugs, but I didn’t know he had a gun. And I didn’t know exactly what had gone down between the two of you that night. But once I did . . . I can’t tell you how bad I felt about everything.” He ran his finger over the rim of the beer mug. “We all lost so much that night. And I made it worse by taking my anger out on you.”
“There was a lot happening back then. Everyone was emotional.”
Jared shook his head. “I didn’t have to do some of the things I did.” He continued to run his finger along the rim of his glass, as reluctant to look them in the eye as Ryder. “I know what happened that night was no one’s fault but my brother’s.”
Ryder gasped a little, turning his head away.
“Mr. Fairfield,” Jared said, reaching across the table to touch his hand, “I’m so sorry for all the things I said and did. I know I made it so much worse for you than it had to be. I’ve been eaten up with guilt all this time, wishing I hadn’t done what I did.”
“You were hurting,” Kelly said softly. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. Jordan shouldn’t have had a gun. He promised me he wouldn’t ever do anything like that! I can’t believe he would do that, that he would take another person’s life for something so stupid!”
“He’s paying for that now,” Ryder said quietly. “I never meant for him—”
“No, man,” Jared said, interrupting him. “That wasn’t your fault, either. We knew that from the beginning, we were just too stupid to understand. You did what you had to do. You could have shot him in the head, could have shot him in the chest. At that range, he would have died right there in that damn car! But you didn’t. You shot him in the arm so that he had a chance. It’s not your fault what happened afterward. No one could have predicted what the bullet would do, not even the doctors.”
Ryder shook his head.
“You did nothing wrong, and I know that now. So does my mom. And everything you’ve done for us since . . .” Jared wiped at the tears that were streaming down his face. “We never would have made it without you. And that’s another reason I wanted to talk to you. I want you to know that we’re okay now. My mom, she got a good job now, and she’s moving out of the projects. She and Jordan, they’re gonna be okay. And I’m here, going to school and doing good, man. We’re all okay. You can stop worrying about us, stop sending the money. We don’t need it no more.”
Jared nodded, his eyes on Ryder. “We’re okay.”
Kelly was crying, too, tears dripping from her chin onto the table. She took Jared’s hand and held it tight between hers as Ryder turned his head away again. She was glad to know Jared was okay, glad to know that terrible night had led to something good. But, most of all, she was glad that someone had finally stood up and told Ryder what it was he’d needed to hear since the moment everything went down.
“My mom,” Jared began again, his voice stronger despite the tears still flowing from his eyes, “I told her you were here, and I was going to talk to you. She asked me to tell you how grateful she is and how ashamed she was of what her child had done. And she wants you to know that she never blamed you for what happened, and she only took the money because she needed it. She wants you to know how helpful it was and how grateful she is.”
Ryder nodded his head; his head still turned away.
“And Jordan . . . He doesn’t speak well still, but I know he knows that he was wrong. And I know he doesn’t blame you.” Jared laughed a little. “I think he’s even grateful.”
Ryder choked a little. “Grateful?”
“You got him out of the gang, Mr. Fairfield. That’s a miracle all on its own in that neighborhood.”
Ryder grunted, lifting a hand to brush his cheek. But he still wouldn’t look at them, wouldn’t let them see what was going on inside of him.
“Anyway,” Jared said after a long moment of silence, “I should let you go and get back to your night. I’m sorry if I frightened you. I was just working up the courage, you know?”
“Thank you, Jared. You have no idea how much this means,” Kelly said as she stood, moving into the young man to offer a hug. He hugged her back tightly, holding her like he might hold a relative he hadn’t seen in a long time. “Thank you,” she whispered a second time against his neck.
“Mr. Fairfield,” he said with all the respect in the world.
Ryder lifted a hand, but he still wouldn’t look up.
Jared and Kelly exchanged a look. She patted his arm. “It’s okay.”
Jared walked away, and Kelly slid back into the booth beside Ryder. They sat there in silence for a long time lost in thought. Then Ryder sighed.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
“Let’s just go up.”
She followed him out of the bar and onto the elevator. He stayed turned from her, as though he was afraid of what she would say if she saw the emotion on his face. He was still working it out, she knew, reconciling what Jared had said with what he’d been telling himself for two very long years. What Jared said changed everything for Kelly, and she was sure it would for Ryder, too, when he let himself feel it. But he was such a stubborn man, with so many walls between the outside world and the core of his emotions, it would take a while for Jared’s words to sink all the way in.
Once in the room, Ryder grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the bar and disappeared into his room. Kelly sat out on the balcony, waiting for him to come out, but he never did. She finally ordered up a sandwich, had a bath, and went to bed. But she couldn’t sleep. All she could think about was Ryder in the next room, struggling with this new version of his old reality.
She’d taken the case file Jared set on the table, brought it upstairs with her. That picture of the bruise on Ryder’s chest hurt still when she looked at it, but she made herself look. She made herself remember the panic she felt that night, rushing to the hospital without knowing if Ryder was alive and well or if he was lying in the morgue, waiting for her to identify him. He’d promised her when he went off to the military, and again when he joined the police force, that he would never put himself in a position where she’d have to bury him. And he’d kept that promise while gone overseas with the military. That day, though, she’d been convinced that he’d broken the promise and she’d have to raise their child alone. She was so relieved to learn it wasn’t true, she had a hard time not feeling an immense level of relief to learn it was someone else who’d been shot that night.
It was guilt that forced her to sit with Jordan Alvarez’s family that night. Guilt that she was happy to learn it was Jordan who was fighting for his life and not Ryder.
She remembered that now and still felt the remnants of that guilt. But she also continued to feel the relief that it hadn’t been Ryder.
No matter the a
bsence he’d forced on her, the separation she was still struggling to overcome, Ryder was alive and that was the most precious thing in the world to her. Losing the baby hurt, it still hurt, but as long as Ryder was in this world, they could try again. Him quitting his job, losing his reputation, those were temporary problems. They could overcome them as long as he was alive.
She still believed that.
But she had to wonder if Ryder believed that.
She picked up the file and went to his room, tapping lightly on the door.
“Go away,” he said, his words slurred.
“I just want to talk.”
“Go away.”
Kelly tried the knob, not surprised to find it unlocked. Ryder was sitting in a chair, facing the wall like a child in time out for bad behavior. The bottle of whiskey was in his lap, half gone.
“Don’t do this, Ryder. Don’t shut me out.”
“It’s done. I walked away from all of this for a reason. And you had to go and bring it all back!”
“I needed your help.”
“You could have asked anyone for help. You wanted me because you can’t let go. But it’s done. I let go for us both.”
“For stupid reasons!”
He grunted. “You’ll never understand why I did what I did.”
“You’re right about that.”
He didn’t respond, just picked up the bottle and took a long slug from its contents. She walked over and dropped the case file in his lap, watching as it fell open and spilled its contents all over his lap and the floor around his feet.
“You were a cop. You knew from the moment you took the job that there would be tough decisions you’d have to make. And when you had to make one, you made the right one, Ryder. Why can’t you see that?”
“Because a boy was left brain damaged because of what I did!”
“But that’s not your fault! Can’t you see that? His condition is no more your fault than the loss of our baby is mine!”
He jumped out of the chair, kicking at the stiff photographs and loose papers, rushing toward her with the bottle in his hand. She should have been afraid, should have seen that bottle as a weapon. But she knew Ryder too well for that.
“You are a good man, and I know that’s why you’re so consumed with guilt over this. I would never expect any less. But that doesn’t mean you have to throw away everything that ever mattered just because one boy put you in an impossible position!”
“Why don’t you understand? I did this thing, and it brought so much hate down on you, on everyone I love. On my mother and our friends and your family, people who didn’t deserve it.”
“And we all weathered it just fine because we love you, and we wanted to be there for you. Couldn’t you give us enough credit? Couldn’t you trust us to be there for you when you needed it the most? After everything you did for us—”
He snorted. “What did I ever do for you other than bring hurt into your life?”
“You gave me the happiest days of my life, Ryder! You were my whole fucking world, don’t you know that? Nothing else mattered as long as you were there beside me. You were the reason I got up in the morning; the reason I put up with the hard stuff in my life, the kids who didn’t want to respect me, the parents who thought I was purposely trying to ruin their children’s futures, the stupid racist gas station attendant who wouldn’t take my money when I needed gas. You were the one thing that kept me from becoming bitter, don’t you see that?” She shook her head, chuckling a little despite the tears running down her cheeks. “And you gave me the inspiration, the knowledge I needed to write these damn books that have helped me survive these past few years.”
She stepped closer to him, laying a hand on the center of his chest. She expected him to brush it away, but he didn’t. But he wouldn’t look her in the eye, either.
“I love you, Ryder. I’ve always loved you, and I will never love anyone else the way I love you. When you left, it shattered my whole damn world. But it also forced me to realize what a strong woman I am, how good it feels to be independent. You made me find myself, and I owe you everything for that. But now it’s time for us to find our way back to each other.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”
“The thing is, you will hurt me again. And I’ll hurt you. That’s just what love is all about, Ryder.”
He groaned, his eyes finally coming up to hers. “You’re still willing to come back to me? After everything?”
“I am. Because I know what life was like with you, and I know what it was like without you. And even though I know I can survive on my own, I really don’t want to. I miss you so much it hurts when I do the simplest things, you know?”
“I hate Sunday mornings,” he whispered. “I hate getting up knowing you won’t be there, making that awful pancake thing you make.”
She laughed. “I thought you liked my pancakes!”
“Hate them. They’re the worst thing ever! But I ate them because you made them.”
She shook her head even as she stepped into him. “I’ll just have to start making something else. Waffles, maybe.”
“Please don’t.”
She slapped his chest, but he laughed, snatching her wrist as he twisted around to set the bottle of whiskey on the seat of his chair. Then he turned to her, drawing her closer to him, his lips softly parted as he pressed them against hers. He lifted her arms and pulled them around his neck, drawing her as close as he could get her, his hands sliding down her back as he reacquainted himself with her curves. She tilted her head slightly, her fingers playing with the curls that hung down over his shirt collar, the familiarity of them sending shivers of pleasure through the length of her.
He picked her up and carried her to the bed, crawling over her as he settled beside her. They kissed for a long few minutes, their touches lingering as they acted like the teenagers they’d once been, making out in her bedroom when they were supposed to be doing homework. This had always been perfection for them, even when they were new at it and fumbled more than anything else. And when it came time to take it a step further, when they awkwardly taught each other about pleasure, it was this that brought them to that moment, this familiar act that led to those other things. It all came back to this.
For some, passion burned hot. For others, it was a low simmer. For them, it was a little bit of both.
Her heart began to pound as his lips created a path down the length of her throat. She ran her fingers through his hair as he buried his face between her heavy breasts, his breath hot and erotic as it blew through the thick material of her dress. He dragged her skirt up, his hand moving over the curve of her thigh, his palm sliding up over her hip and resting on her soft belly. His mouth found hers again, his lips warm and so familiar, the taste of him bringing back so many memories, memories she had tried to push away even as she treasured each and every one.
This was her man. The only man she’d ever wanted and would ever want.
She lifted the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head, smiling as his chest came into view. So handsome! He was always such a specimen of masculinity, but she guessed that his time alone these past two years had led to a lot of time to work out. His muscles were far more defined than they’d been the last time they lay this way, his chest like a marble sculpture created at the hands of a master. She traced her fingers around the definition created by his impressive muscles, around his teeny nipples and the single tattoo that he wore with a mixture of shame and guilt. It was the intertwined initials of Jordan Alvarez and the name they’d intended to give their son, Russel Fairfield, for Ryder’s father. But it was his initials, too, a symbol of the men whose fates would forever be intertwined.
He pulled her hand away and pinned her to the mattress, his mouth hard on hers again. His hand slipped under her dress again, sliding inside her panties and touching a place that hadn’t been touched since he left her. She arched her back, pressing her hips into his hand, needing the releas
e that his touch promised. She moaned against his lips, receiving an answering groan in return.
He rested his head on her shoulder as he watched his hand work under her clothing, making it impossible for her to lie still. She wanted to touch him too, but she was so lost in what he was doing that she couldn’t think of anything but the pleasure that was rushing through her. She closed her eyes, her hand gripping his as she pressed him even deeper against her. He chuckled a little when she did that, the memory of his declaration that he loved the fact that she knew exactly what she wanted drifting through his mind. She did know what she wanted. She wanted him.
“Please,” she whispered as she quickly raced toward that moment of pure pleasure. “Please, Ryder!”
“Tell me what you want,” he insisted in a deep, husky voice, against her ear.
“I want you. I want you inside of me!”
He groaned, his lips seeking hers once more. And then he was on top of her, his hands between their bodies as he first worked her panties out of the way and then his jeans. He was inside of her in an instant, his thick cock forcing its way into tissues that had been untouched for far too long. It took a long moment for her body to adjust to him, but when it did . . . heaven!
They moved together, both ignoring the annoyances of his jeans rubbing against her inner thighs and her dress refusing to allow him access to her full breasts. All that mattered in that moment was the ultimate of intimacies, the connection of their bodies, the pleasure that both had been denied for far too long. At first, her eyes were closed; her mind focused on the intensity of the sensations rushing through her as she wrapped herself around him. But then she needed to see him, needed to watch him as his own pleasure rushed through him. She loved what her body could do to his, loved the suggestion of power that this moment offered. She could make him feel these things. She could give him relief from this amazing height of need. He wanted her and, on some level, that idea still shocked her.
To her surprise, his eyes were open, too. His hand brushed the hair from the side of her face, his movements slow and then stopping.
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