I have no idea how to respond to this. It’s clear as day that Rebel is having a crack at me over something, but I have less than no idea what she’s referring to. I mean, it could be the fact that I’m knocked up to my ex’s twin, but that seems too obvious for such a dig.
I glance back at Ryan, hoping for some clarity, but he’s still glaring at her in a way I’ve never seen from him before. Anger is radiating from him so intensely I swear I can almost see him shaking, and if I wasn’t so nervous and confused, I think I’d find it sexy as hell.
Rebel just looks back at him, totally unfazed, one brow raised in challenge.
I feel sick and I don’t even know why.
Our food arrives at that very moment, and I’m not even sure how I’m meant to eat a single bite. Filling my stomach feels like the opposite of a good idea to me right now.
We eat in awkward silence – I mostly shift food around my plate – and the minute Ryan finishes his meal, he takes my hand in his and asks me gently if I’m ready to leave. His tone is so soft and sweet, I don’t know how he manages it, given that I can sense how angry he still is.
I nod, not caring that my food is barely touched. I can’t wait to get the fuck out of here. I was so worried about this encounter, and somehow, it’s gone even worse than I’d imagined, and I don’t even know why.
He gets up without saying a word to the woman sitting opposite us, and then holds his hand out for me, to help me slip out behind him.
“This was fun, let’s do it again sometime,” Rebel says as he leads me away from the table without so much as a backward glance.
I follow along behind him, bewildered and intimidated.
It’s not until we’ve been driving in the car for about ten minutes that he turns to me and finally speaks again.
“I’m so sorry, princess.” His voice – the agony in it – I just want to make it better.
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not even close to being okay,” he replies quickly. “I promise you, I’ll never let that happen again.”
The silence stretches for a few beats.
“Why does she hate me so much?” I finally say, “she doesn’t even know me, and she already can’t stand me?” My voice wobbles at the end, and I feel tears welling in my eyes. “What was she talking about?”
He pulls over to the side of the road and clasps my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him.
“You’ve done nothing wrong, Darce, okay? I promise you, I’ll fix this.”
“She’s your best friend,” I carry on, almost sobbing now – stupid pregnancy hormones, “I want her to like me.”
“Rebel is as stubborn as a mule, but she’s wrong this time, and if she can’t see that, then she has no place in our lives.”
I can see the complete and utter sincerity in those green eyes of his, I know he would do it – for me... for us... but I also know damn well that cutting off Rebel would kill him, and it’s the last thing I want.
I drag my thumb over his bottom lip, the rough scruff on his jaw grazing my skin. I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything. Instead, I kiss him.
“I need to pee,” Steph states, as she always does, before sliding her chair out and getting up from the table.
I’ve been filling them in on my dinner with Rebel and what a disaster it was. I almost feel bad about saying anything now as both of my best friends have jumped straight on the bandwagon. I’ve unintentionally set up an ‘I hate Rebel club’. That’s not even what I want, or how I feel. I don’t hate her, I fear her. She worries me, I don’t know what happens if her and I can’t find a way to get along. I don’t know how we both fit in Ryan’s life without being in each other’s too.
It’s a mess, one that’s probably not being helped by Steph repeatedly ranting about Rebel sounding like ‘a bitch’ or ‘a pain in the arse’, and getting me all riled up, but still, I knew that’s how she’d be – she’s loyal to a fault and has quite the temper. I once saw her drag a chick out of a bar by her hair for saying something rude about the dress a friend of ours was wearing. Rebel and Steph would probably butt heads something chronic. At least Freya has slightly more chill and the capacity to be more diplomatic.
The ring of my cell phone startles me; I hardly ever get calls anymore. Ryan sometimes rings me on his way home from work, but he’s in a meeting with his staff right now, so I’m confident it won’t be him. I’m here with Steph and Freya, so it’s not either of them…. Work only ever emails… there’s not a lot of other options left; my circle is small.
I pull it from my bag and look at the screen, but it’s a blocked number. I don’t typically pick those up – my tolerance for scammers is pretty low – but it could be the doctor’s office or something to do with my next check-up, so I answer.
“Hello?”
“Darcy,” the voice on the end of the phone says, the tone familiar, but wrong. Somehow wrong.
“Ah... yes?” I reply, confused. It sounds just like Ryan, but I’m not sure. “Who’s this?”
The penny drops a fraction of a second before he says the words. “This is Jacob.”
My heart starts thumping against my rib cage and my palms sweat instantly.
I have no idea why Jacob would be calling me, but I know one thing – it’s not going to be about anything good.
“Jacob?” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why are you calling me?”
Freya’s hand lands on top of mine and I look up, wide-eyed, to meet her stare.
She doesn’t even have to speak, I can tell by the expression on her face that she’s worried... and pissed off.
“Can’t a man call the woman he loves?”
The sound of the word ‘love’ coming from him makes my stomach roll. Jacob doesn’t love anybody but himself. Probably never has, probably never will.
I don’t know what to reply to him, I’m torn between hanging up and then smashing my phone for good measure… or ripping him to shreds for having the audacity to speak to me like he never crushed me into a million pieces. This is the man who walked out on me at the altar and never even looked back. Never gave me a reason why. Never checked to see if I was coping. He never did a thing. He just carried on with his life as though he didn’t just destroy mine.
How dare he call me now and say something so ridiculous.
I don’t know where I find the strength, or the volume, but I reply, my voice firm and sure. “What the hell do you want, Jacob?”
Steph overhears me say his name as she sits back down, her jaw dropping open when she realises I’m on the phone to the person we’ve been referring to as ‘he who shall not be named’.
“What the fuck?” she mouths to Freya. Freya shrugs, looking more and more furious by the second. Her grip on my free hand tightens. Steph rounds the table to crouch next to me so she can press her ear to the phone and listen in.
“I want you back, Darcy. I made a mistake.”
A whoosh of breath slips through my lips. What the actual fuck? I think I’m in shock.
“Is this prick for real?” Steph demands, having heard what I just heard.
In a different scenario, a different place, a different time... I would have found her outburst hilarious, but I don’t even have the energy to laugh right now. I can’t move. I can’t speak. I can’t even think straight.
Steph prises the phone from my frozen fingers and presses the end button before tossing it down onto the table with a heavy thud. I want to tell her off for being so rough, but I get it. I’d burn that thing if I could afford to replace it – it’s tainted by him now.
“You didn’t block his number?” Steph demands.
I look at her dumbly, unable to speak. My hand flies to my stomach, cradling it protectively. I can’t explain the feeling coursing through me right now as anything other than fear. It makes no sense. Jacob has never laid a finger on me physically. He’s certainly left his fair share of emotional scars, but he’s never been a threat to me.
&nb
sp; I don’t know how or why, but he feels like one now.
Freya picks up my discarded phone and scrolls for a moment. “Blocked number,” she explains to Steph when it becomes obvious that I’m in no way fit to contribute to this conversation.
Jacob could have called me from his own number, I haven’t even blocked it. Blocking someone that wants nothing to do with you seemed kind of counterproductive, so I never bothered. But in saying that, if I’d seen his number flash across the screen, I probably wouldn’t have answered. I guess he knew that too.
“What did he say?” Freya asks Steph.
I’m grateful to them both for not trying to get me to speak right now. They know me well, and they know when I need a moment inside my own head.
“He said he wants her back and that he made a mistake.” Steph growls the words.
I hear Freya’s sharp intake of breath. “No shit, dickwad, we all know you made a mistake.” She mutters a string of curse words. “Who the hell does he think he is, trying to waltz back in?”
“A Steele,” I reply, my voice even and dull. “He’s a Steele.”
I feel a little bad referring to their family like that, as though being a Steele is a death sentence – Ryan is a Steele too, my baby will be a Steele – but Ryan’s nothing like Jacob or his father. He’s not calculating, manipulative or ruthless. My baby won’t be either.
“So what?” Freya scowls.
“So they always get what they want. Jacob always gets what he wants. I was with him for five years and I never saw him lose. Not once.”
“Well not today, Satan,” Steph quips, “he burnt this bridge good and proper. He’ll have to get through us first.”
The baby starts wriggling around, I can feel his or her little feet softly kicking me.
“I want to leave,” I reply quietly.
I can’t explain the feeling I’m having right now – it’s like I’m too exposed here in the middle of this cafe – I feel like a sitting duck. I want to be at home – at Ryan’s, in his arms where I feel safe. The only place in the world I feel like nothing can hurt me.
Ryan. I should tell Ryan about this, but I’m not sure I can, he’ll completely lose the plot.
I go to stand up, but I feel all shaky.
Freya grabs my arm and loops hers through it while Steph collects up our stuff. They sort out everything, and it’s not until I’m in the car, driving back to Ryan’s that the tears start to fall.
16
Ryan
I’m running out of patience, fucking fast.
Two weeks have passed since Rebel was rude as hell to Darcy and disrespected me, and she’s still yet to acknowledge that she stepped over the line.
Actually, fuck that, she didn’t just step over the line – she sprinted over it, wearing one of those pairs of heels that leave permanent dents in the floorboards.
Darcy hasn’t been back to R&R’s with me since then, she hasn’t outright said that she doesn’t want to, but she’s made up excuse after excuse to get out of it. We’ve been here for dinner a dozen times without issue, but that one time with Rebel would be enough to put anyone off.
Speak of the devil and she shall appear.
Rebel strolls into our office, her focus on her iPad as she taps away. “We need to get the dinner menu updated so I can send the proof to the printer.”
I couldn’t give a flying fuck about the menu. She knows what needs to be done, the fact that we’re still going back and forth over it, arguing about what the final decision will be – something we never do – is just further fuel to the fire already smouldering away between us.
“Just add whatever you want,” I mutter.
She sighs heavily. “Can you not? I know what will happen. I’ll add it and then in a few days when we get it back from the printer, you’ll bitch and moan that I didn’t listen to you.”
“Then add what I want and save yourself the argument later,” I suggest.
I’m being a wanker, I know I am, but she’s being a bitch. So I figure fair’s fair.
She sets the iPad firmly on her desk and turns to glare at me. “Alright, I’m sick of this shit – let’s just have it out once and for all and then we can get back to being friends because I’m tired and I do not have the patience for your moodiness today.”
“That’s a bit rich coming from you.”
She’s barking up the wrong fucking tree. If she wants a fight, she’s damn well going to get one. I’m not a patient man at the best of times, and these are far from the best of times.
“Say what you want to say, Ryan, stop beating around the bush.”
“It’s called tact, and you could learn a thing or two about having some,” I fire back.
She doesn’t reply, just stands there, hands on her hips, her brow raised in challenge. It’s infuriating.
Fine. She wants a reality check, I’ll give her one.
“You were a complete bitch to Darcy the other night. You were so rude it embarrassed me.”
Her expression changes, and for just a flash of a second, I see hurt before it’s quickly replaced with irritation.
“Are you seriously still upset about that?”
Is she for real?
The stack of papers about our liquor license leave my hands and go flying across the room. “Yes, I’m still upset!” My voice thunders, almost making the small space shake.
She opens her mouth to respond, but I cut her off. “You disrespected not only me, but the woman I love too, and I don’t know how the fuck you can justify the behaviour in that head of yours.”
“It wasn’t my intention.”
“Bullshit. You knew exactly what you were doing. It’s what you always do – come at people with that arrogance and attitude, acting like you’re better than everyone else.”
I regret it the moment I say it – it might be how she’s dealt with Darcy, but it’s not a fair statement about her character in general. I’m hitting below the belt.
“Tell me how you really feel,” she deadpans, obvious hurt in her eyes now.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Sounds like I deserve it.”
“I went too far.”
She drops her hands from her hips and falls into her chair. “I did too.”
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I shouldn’t have been such a bitch.”
“No shit,” I reply, the fight leaving me now that she’s lost the bullshit bravado.
It’s silent for a few beats between us. I know Rebel is trying to find the right words. She’s not the best at admitting her fuck-ups, but I can see she’s trying.
“I don’t know why I was so hard on her. I guess I’m just scared that she’s going to hurt you again. I’ve seen the way she crushed you, Ry. I don’t want to see it again.”
“That wasn’t her fault. She’s never set out to hurt me.”
“I know,” she replies on an exhale.
That’s the first time I’ve ever heard her admit that out loud. For years, she’s blamed Darcy. I think she just wanted someone to blame for my pain – and Darcy was where the finger got pointed when blaming my brother wasn’t satisfying enough.
“I’ll admit, she seems nice, but she’s broken, you know that, right? I can see it in her eyes.”
“Everyone is a little broken, that’s life. Find me someone who says they aren’t, and I’ll make a liar out of them.”
She nods slowly, in contemplation and agreement.
“You’re dealing with a heart you didn’t break, Ryan.”
“Do you think I don’t know that? My brother screwed her over. On the day of that wedding, she was a shell of the woman I once met, but she’s back, Rebel, she’s still in there, and every day I see more and more of her. We’re healing each other.”
She meets my eyes and I finally see acceptance in there. “Okay.”
“Okay, you’ll stop being so hard on her?”
“I’ll stop.”
“Promise?”
“Want to pinky swear or can we just skip that part and go straight to the pillow fights and hair braiding?” she says with a roll of her eyes.
I smirk. She’s an absolute fucking nightmare sometimes, but she always knows how to make me laugh.
“I am sorry,” she says, her sincerity ringing true. “I know I was hard on her. I’ll apologise. It was that time of the month and –”
I make a show of covering my ears. “Special time, got it.”
I chuckle and duck the balled-up bit of paper she throws at me.
“You’re going to be having a baby soon, a little bit of shedding of uterine walls is the least of your worries.”
I grimace at her choice of words, but she’s not wrong either.
“I’ll talk to her when I get a chance. I know you’ve been avoiding this place and that’s on me. I’ll make it right.”
“I hope you can, because she means a lot to me, and I love you, you know I do. But she wins. In any situation, any contest... she wins.”
She nods in sad understanding. Rebel might not have found the right man for her yet, but she will one day, and then she’ll understand where I’m coming from. I’ll remind her of this when that day comes. It might make it sting a little less.
“Would you get out of here already; the meeting finished an hour ago, and I’m sure you’ve got better things to do tonight.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
I get up out of my seat. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I know that something isn’t quite right with Darcy at the moment. She seems on edge.
She’s fine when we’re at home together, but it’s as though she’s seeking solace in my arms for some reason. It’s not that I mind; spending a couple of days in bed and on the couch, wrapped around her is my idea of a perfect time, but if something is wrong, I’d rather know – but she insists she’s fine.
‘Fine’ – I swear to god, ‘fine’ is where reassurance goes to die.
I push the thought out of my mind. I’ll deal with it later, right now I have to finish getting everything set up in the nursery before Darcy gets back.
The First Rule: A Standalone Second Chance Romance Page 12