"Are you sure you don't want me to come out? I can, you know."
"I know," I say, wincing, not only because I don't want her to but because I know the reason she can is because Evan's not with her anymore. I still hate it. "I'm fine. Already tapering off the hydros. Icing. Elevating. Stretching. I might try and walk a bit today."
"Don't push yourself, honey. You need to heal."
"I know. I need to keep up with my studies as well. I'm going to go in for Grand Rounds on Friday."
"Don't you think that's too much too soon?"
"Mom, I can't fall behind. I'm on a tight schedule here. The fact that I've had four days without doing anything—five if you count being off on Saturday before—I'm already behind."
"Okay, well, I guess I'll let you go then."
"Thanks for calling to check in on me, Mom. I appreciate it."
"Oh, honey, I do wish I was there, taking care of you. Feeding you. Oh—" her voice grows loud. I pull the phone away from my ear to compensate for her excitement. "You will never guess who emailed me yesterday!"
"No, I probably won't guess who. Why don't you just tell me, Ma?"
"Rio Pascucci! I couldn't believe it. I haven't heard from her in years."
Huh. I wonder if that was before or after she kissed me. And she asked me not to tell my mother. What was she doing emailing her? "Yeah, it does seem rather unbelievable. You said she dropped off the face of the earth."
"She did. She never comes home. God, every time I run into Sierra, she tells me she's at her wit's end with Rainne and all of her … well, things and kids, you know. And all she wants is for Rio to come home and help out."
"That seems about right for her. I bet Rainne and her kids and everything are a lot to handle. I can't say I blame Rio for not wanting any part of it. If Rio has her life together, why should she have to give it up because they don't?"
"I know. I want to tell her mom that, but I don't think Sierra'd listen. She's never listened to me when you kids were growing up, even though it was clear she had no control over the house. You know, I'm proud of Rio for getting out of here and standing up for herself. I just wish she'd have stayed in better contact. I miss her. She was always so nice to Evan. I hope she's successful. She deserves to be. She didn't really say in the email. Do you know what she wanted?"
That is such a loaded question. But I answer truthfully. "I have no idea what Rio wants."
"She wanted my recipe for beef stroganoff! Isn't that funny? She said she was having a craving for it, and no one makes it the way I did."
"How about that," I say, not knowing what to make of this news.
"I wish I could be there to make it for you. I know it's your favorite. Green beans and all."
My heart sinks a bit, the fact that my mother didn't remember that it was Evan who liked the green beans, not me. It's a small thing, and it doesn't really matter. "I know you do, Ma. It's the thought that counts."
We disconnect, and I pull myself up to sitting, propping the pillows behind me. In this position, after removing the ace wrap, I slowly go through my exercises, which are mostly bending and straightening the knee and lifting my leg up while I keep it straight. That sounds a lot easier than it is. That takes a fair amount of mental and physical focus, leaving me surprisingly tired after. I close my eyes—for just a minute, I promise myself—and then the thought hits me.
She emailed my mother for the recipe.
And she must have remembered about the peas. How could she hang onto such a small detail like that all this time? Why would she?
I feel like something breaks free in my chest, and my eyes flying open, as I look around her room, searching for answers that a flat iron and a pile of clothes can't give me. I need more of her. I need to know what she's been doing and what she likes.
I need ... Rio.
There's very little that's personal in this room. No pictures of Rio or Rainne or their mom, or even the kids. Just a framed print of some mountains covered in fall foliage hanging on the wall. The autumnal colors pop against a clear blue sky. I wonder why this picture. Why this scene? What about it caught Rio's fancy?
Her comforter is white with deep reds and gray in it. It doesn't look like anything she'd pick. Again, I wonder about her choices. All her choices.
I need to know more. The fact that I knew her every day for the first nineteen years and then nothing for the past ten kills me. A void within me I never knew existed is suddenly huge and cavernous and consuming. I get up and attempt to straighten the covers. It takes me a while but I manage to clean up and shave. I'll be able to shower tomorrow and will be eternally grateful for that. I pick up the living room a bit and head to the kitchen. I don't know when Rio will be home, but I want to do something nice for her.
Cooking is a little beyond my energy level at the moment, so I do the next best thing, which is order a pizza.
And tonight, I'll convince Rio to tell me everything about the last decade. About who she is now and what makes her tick. And then, maybe, things will finally start to make sense.
Chapter 16
Rio
My eyes feel like they are filled with sand, and my limbs are made of lead. After several more back and forths, I resubmit the ad package to Ted and the Caparazzos. I feel like I should vomit or pass out or something monumental. Instead, I sit at my desk and stare at my black computer screen, too tired to even stand up. I weigh the possibility of putting my head down and sleeping at my desk. Maybe I could crawl underneath and stay there?
Let's face it, it's not like I have a place to sleep tonight. Plus, the idea of walking home seems daunting given my current level of fatigue.
Cailynn pokes her head around my divider. "Oh God, you're still here? What's wrong with you?"
I blink once and then again. "You're here too."
"No, I left. I went to spin and stopped back because I forgot my charger. My phone is almost dead. Can't have that!"
"Oh. Yes, I suppose that's true." I stand up. "Well, I'm going now."
"Why are you here so late? Don't you want to go home?"
"Yes. No. I don't know." I shrug. "I finally finished up the reboot."
Cailynn squints at me. "Couldn't you have finished it tomorrow? You can't spend your whole life here. You'll never meet anyone that way. And let's face it, it's not like there's anyone worth dating here."
"Why do I have to be dating someone?" I stand up and stretch backwards, feeling a small pop in my lower back.
"Aren't you lonely? No offense, but you seem lonely. How can you be on your own all the time? You never talk about people." I pretend not to hear the pity in her voice.
"Because I can. I'm fine." That's been my go-to answer for so long that I don't know how else to respond. Grabbing my bag from under my desk, I walk more quickly than I would have thought capable and head toward the stairs. Cailynn, fresh from her spin class, struggles to keep up. I look back toward her. "Thank you for the concern, though."
"Oh God, you're taking the stairs? No thanks, I'll wait for the elevator."
I chuckle at her contradiction. I'm happy for this reprieve and am out the door and down the block before Cailynn makes it to the ground floor. The desire to be home is so overwhelming that I head for the T. As I sag into the hard plastic seat, I ponder the dinner choices. I'm so tired that a bowl of cereal seems like it might be all I can do tonight. I almost manage to forget about Ian until my stomach clenches as I enter my building.
This time, I take advantage of the elevator, sagging against the wall on its ascent. Maybe if Beth is working again, I can stay in her room. She can't get upset at that since she's the one who invited Ian to stay in our apartment in the first place.
But when I open the door, a delectable scent hits my nose. My apartment smells like a pizza parlor. A peek into the kitchen reveals a large white box and a smiling Ian.
"I was about to send out a rescue party. You're late."
"I was working."
"All this time?"
/> I know in the back of my mind that Ian's being friendly. Concerned, even. But what he's doing is irritating me. "You're not my mother. Frankly, my mother never noticed if I was late and only cared if I was making money to contribute to groceries so she could use her money for going out."
"Whoa. Easy there, killer. I just didn't know you worked this late. You were home a lot earlier yesterday."
"That's because I left early to stop at the store and check on you. I had work to make up." I plop in a chair, opening the pizza box. Not even bothering with a plate, I take a large bite out of a slice I’d pulled off.
"And I appreciate it. Hence, I cooked."
I finally stop and look at Ian. He's clean shaven and his hair looks neater. He's in different clothes and a glance around the kitchen reveals an empty sink and dishes on the drying rack.
"Did you clean up?"
He nods and gives me a tight smile. "I tried to. I realize I'm imposing, and thought if I could be helpful, I should."
"Shouldn't you be resting?"
"I can only rest so much. I slept for like five hours straight. It was the best. I love being in your bed."
At least I'm not the one who said the stupid thing this time. Before I can say any one of the thousand things running through my head Ian corrects, "You know what I mean. Thank you for letting me sleep there. It helped a lot."
"When do you think you can go home?" It comes out more harshly than I intend.
"I'm going in for Grand Rounds on Friday. I'm going to see if I can start PT then, but I might have to wait until Monday for it. I'll need to be cleared to do the stairs."
"It's a lot of stairs." I take another bite, unable to come up with something else to say.
We're spared any more awkward silences when Beth breezes in and deposits a large stack of textbooks and a small laptop on the table in front on Ian. "There you go. I'm done being your pack mule. Pardon me while I go pass out for a few hours." She reaches in and grabs a slice. Muttering as she leaves the room I hear her say, "You owe me big time, McCallister. Get caught up on your sleep now." And then her door slams, leaving Ian and I staring at each other again.
Finally, Ian stands up, patting the books. "I'm glad she brought these. I've a lot of studying and prep work to do."
"But you're out of work. You're injured."
"Work doesn't stop for a resident. And it won't stop for me next year when I'm a fellow either. Probably only when I get hired, but then I'll be the new guy and low man on the totem pole. So …"
I stand up too and begin packing up the pizza. "So you're never going to have a life again."
"Maybe in about five years. That'll pass by in no time." Ian looks from the books on the table to his crutches and back again. "Um, can you help me get these out to the couch?"
The books are heavier than I expected, forcing me to take a few trips. I can't believe he's really doing this—a doctor. Probably the only thing sexier he could do is be a firefighter. I can't even pronounce half the titles of these books, making me realize that Ian's got one sexy brain too. He's just sexy everywhere. On the last trip I mutter, "Well, I guess I know how you keep your studly physique, hauling these around all the time."
Ian pauses mid-stride and stands straight up. He then proceeds to do a slow and exaggerated bicep curl, arching the crutch through the air as if to show off his power. He grins at me seductively and winks.
"You know that'd look a whole lot sexier if you didn't have pizza sauce down the front of you."
He stops and looks down at his spotless shirt.
"Made you look." Sticking my tongue out at him, I proceed to saunter into the living room, fully aware that he's watching my ass. Apparently, being around Ian makes me either horny as hell or it makes me revert back to my nine-year-old self. Sometimes, it does both.
The knowledge that he's looking at me gives me a sense of power while stripping away my IQ at the same time. As I approach the coffee table, I bend over slowly, giving Ian no choice but to focus on my backside, like a reverse bend and snap. I glance coyly over my shoulder. The look on his face causes me to stand quickly and turn.
"I'm sorry," I offer. I can't meet his eyes but what I saw in them will stay with me for a good long while.
Want. Longing. Desire. If he were any more obvious about it, he'd be drooling.
Shit.
"No, by all means, I was enjoying the show. Maybe at some point you'll let me know what the hell is going on." Ice drips from his voice as a guarded expression takes over his face.
"I don't know what you're talking about." I know exactly what he's talking about. Even I'm making my head spin with these mood swings and the hot and cold.
The moment I stop trying to hold up the walls I've so carefully crafted over the past ten years, the second I forget that I need to keep him away, every fiber of my being screams at me to be his friend. His lover. His caretaker.
His everything.
I know that's not going to work. I need to be better about holding up those walls all the time.
Except I don't want to.
He pats the couch next to him. I stand there for a minute, thinking about what to do. What does it mean if I sit? Should I stand? Is it rude to stand? Should I sit?
"Jesus Christ, Rio. I can smell the smoke burning from over here. It's not a hard thing. Plant your ass and be done."
I do. And as I lower myself down next to him, I know it's a mistake.
I know I'm a goner.
The walls crumble away.
Ian
This girl is killing me. Absolutely killing me.
I'll be the first to admit it; when we were kids, I never really thought of Rio as a girl. She just was. She was my friend, and she was smart and was good to Evan. She took care of Rainne and her mom and was nice to everyone.
But now … I want to kick my teenage self for going for Rainne instead of Rio. I mean, Rio's still everything she was back then. And so much more.
She's a woman. All woman. Hot. Sexy. Funny. Smart.
And she's messing with my head. One minute she's saying something suggestive. The next she's running away. The next she's acting like old times. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
"What the hell is going on in that brain of yours?"
And suddenly, it's like all the air leaves her body, and she sinks into me. I wrestle my arm free and drape it around her shoulders. Rio lets out a deep sigh.
"What, Ri? What's wrong?"
"This."
"This? How can this be wrong?" I don't want to freak her out, but I've never felt something so right in my life before.
It hits me.
This is right. It's so right.
It's right what I need.
I need her in my life like I need air.
"Two old friends, hanging out. Sometimes I cook. Sometimes you cook. Sometimes you maim me. Sometimes you kiss me."
"We sleep in each other's beds, but not with each other," she adds, her head fitting snugly into the crook of my shoulder. "We keep flirting."
"I don't know, Ri. This feels kind of right." Dammit, I said it. I didn't mean to. It's only going to freak her out.
"I know."
Wait, what? She knows? Then why is she acting like a freak all the time?
Before I can ask her that she sighs again. "But it's not right, and we both know that."
"Because of Rainne." I don't have to ask it. I know it bothers her. Rio's silence confirms it. I thought it would bother me, but it doesn't. I need to get her to the same place. "Well, we need to figure out a way to move past it."
She lets out a bitter, tight laugh. "Easier said than done. There's no moving past her. Even moving away, I can't escape. You're proof enough."
"But she's there and we're here. Surely eight hundred miles is enough. I thought you don't talk to her anymore."
"It's not that."
"Then what?"
Rio is silent for so long that I think she may have fallen asleep. I close my ey
es, resting my cheek on the top of her head. I may or may not doze off.
"Ian. Ian!" A swift elbow to my side jerks me awake.
"I'm up."
"No, you're not. You fell asleep on me. Like, literally, on me."
"I thought you were asleep."
"I was thinking."
"Did you figure it out?" Please God, let her have figured it out. Let her see that the past is the past, and it doesn't matter. That we matter.
Rio stands up and offers me a hand. I accept and rise. I don't let go of her, and there's not much room for both of us to stand in between the couch and coffee table. I look down at her, still holding my hand.
"My head hurts. My heart hurts. I can't think anymore tonight." Her voice is soft. Maybe even a little sad.
"You don't need to think. Just be. Right here, right now. Don't worry about yesterday, and don't think about tomorrow. What do you want right now?"
Those beautiful chocolate eyes stare all the way to my soul. And dammit if she doesn't lick her lips. I lower my mouth toward hers.
"Right now," she whispers, "I want to go to sleep."
"That's it?"
"That's all it can ever be."
I feel like someone dumped a bucket of ice cold water over me. "Why?"
"Because … I can't."
I slide my arm around her waist and pull her in close to me. Her lips part and her breathing increases. I imagine her dilated pupils match my own.
"Why can't you? We're adults. That's the thing. We get to do whatever we want."
She blinks and then I see her gaze drop to my mouth. "I want to. You have no idea how much I want to." Her words are saying one thing, but her eyes are saying another. I don't know whether to be frustrated or excited.
"Well, let me just throw this out there. I want to too. But, and I can't even believe I'm saying this, I can't."
She jumps back, stumbling to get around the coffee table, panting as if she'd just run a mile. "What? You can't? What the hell are you doing to me, Ian?"
Paradise by the Dashboard Light Page 11