“Hey.” She rubs her hands over her thighs, keeping her gaze focused on the wall in front of us.
“What are you doing today? Any plans?”
“Not really, just hanging around here. I think my dad wanted to have dinner again.”
Reaching out, I turn her head toward me, catching those beautiful blue eyes of hers, soulful and full of her multitude of expressions. “You’re hanging out with me. I have the day off and want to show you something.”
“But what about Rory and Stryder?”
“We’re good. We’re going to be putting together a crib,” Rory says as she pokes her head past the wall. Clearly we weren’t alone like I thought. “Go have fun with Colby. You guys haven’t hung out in a bit.”
“Come on.” I stand and grab her hand, pulling her to her feet. “Put on some shoes and a jacket and let’s get out of here.”
I can see her think about it, the wheels in her head turning, her apprehension, and . . . tentativeness.
Where is that coming from? Ever since I’ve known her, she’s been bold and ready to take on the world, but right now, she’s so unsure it’s fucking with my head. Did I do something again? Did I piss her off and not know about it? She’s been such a fucking mystery to me the past few months; I don’t know how to handle her anymore. I’m hoping this day out will renew our friendship.
“I’m not going to bite.” I nod toward the door. “It will be fun.”
“Go on, Ryan,” Rory encourages her from the doorframe. “We’re good here. Go have some fun.” She winks and then goes back into the kitchen.
Ryan twists her lips to the side, debating until she finally says, “Give me a second. I have to put some socks on.”
Thank Christ.
“Okay.”
She takes off toward the back of the house, which gives me an opportunity to talk to Stryder and Rory privately for a second. Keeping my voice low, I force them to turn off the water to the sink. “Is everything okay with Ryan?”
They look at each other and slowly nod. There is definitely something they know but they’re not telling me, and I don’t have enough time to squeeze it out of them, so I go with the one question I need answered. “Is she okay? She’s not in any kind of trouble, is she?”
They both shake their heads. “No, she’s not in trouble.”
“But there is something going on?”
“That’s a secret recipe. Sorry, dude, you can’t have it,” Stryder awkwardly says making me believe Ryan is behind me.
When I hear her voice my suspicions are confirmed. “Okay, I’m ready.”
Plastering a smile on my face, I turn around and put my arm around her shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”
* * *
I put the car in park and face Ryan who’s looking around, completely and utterly confused. If I were her, I’d be acting the same way.
“Okay, slight concern. You brought me to a storage unit. Are you going to kill me and stuff me in one of these things?”
Maybe I wouldn’t be acting the same way.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
She chuckles. “It’s just, you know, different.”
“It is, but are you up for it?”
She gives the empty lot of storage bins another glance. “I mean, I’m always up for anything, but if you kill me, please make sure I’m clothed, keep my dignity.”
My eyes practically roll out of their sockets as I exit the car, Ryan falling closely behind.
“You know that’s a legit concern of mine. Being found naked and dead somewhere. It’s bad enough I’m dead, but do I really have to be naked too?”
On the ride over here, Ryan started to lighten up, her mood morphing as we talked about meaningless and stupid things like if we were astronauts, who we’d want to be? Ryan knew nothing about astronauts, but she pretended to and made up an entire story about a guy named John Armstrong. The combination of John Glenn and Neil Armstrong didn’t slip past me. I laughed, fucking hard, and it felt great. Just in the short drive to the storage units, I felt the tension and confusion leave my body. I was able to enjoy the moment, enjoy her company.
“You realize when you die, they strip you down anyway?”
“Yes, but that’s different. I wasn’t found naked. I don’t want some detective walking up to my body, pad in hand, pen poised to take notes and staring down at my flat nipples thinking, ‘Wow, wonder what they would have been like turned on.’”
I’m in the middle of unlocking my storage unit when I face Ryan. “Do you really think that’s what detectives do? Stare at nipples wondering what they would look like turned on?”
She holds her head high and nods. “Yup.”
“You’re fucked in the head.”
She pokes my side, the playful gesture making me chuckle. “And you choose to hang out with me.”
The lock comes undone, and I bend at the waist to lift the roller door. “Because you keep things interesting, that’s for damn sure.”
When the door is completely open, I reveal where I keep all the important things in my life, the things I collected over the years that belonged to my dad before he passed, things my grandpa owned before he passed, and the planes I grew up flying, planes I take out every once in a while to shed dust off their wings.
Slowly, arms crossed over her chest, Ryan walks inside and takes in the labeled storage bins, the model airplanes hanging from the ceiling, and the old uniforms folded neatly to the side.
“This is where you keep all your valuables, isn’t it?”
I lean against the wall, letting her take everything in. It should feel weird having someone in my very personal space, seeing a part of me few know about it. Yet with Ryan, it feels . . . right. “Yup. Things that are precious to me, that I don’t want to move around with, I keep in here. When I retire from the Air Force and buy a home, I’ll unload this storage unit and give everything a proper place, but until then, I visit the unit every once in a while, fly the planes, and look through the memories of the two most important men of my life.”
“Your dad and your grandpa.”
“Yup.”
She nods and turns her attention back to the boxes, reading the labels.
Dad’s belongings.
Gramps’s medals.
Toy planes.
Pictures.
It’s all here. Everything that morphed me into the man I am today fits perfectly in this tiny storage unit.
“What’s this?” Ryan asks, lifting a blanket to look underneath.
I help her, removing the entire thing. “This is my first ever model airplane. My dad bought it for me. Up until he gave me this, I only had the little plastic models that I painstakingly put together, but this was my first ever remote-control airplane. It’s an Eaglet 50.”
“Red and white. I like the colors.” Her fingers drag over the wingspan, her gentle touch and appreciation for the hard work it took to put together putting a smile on my soul. “So you’ve flown this?”
I nod. “Many times. When my dad was still alive too, I flew it for him a couple times.” I run my hand over the wings as well. “There was a brief break where I couldn’t fly her, but now she’s up and running again.”
“A brief break? Why?”
Memories easily come back to life, one of the worst moments I’ve ever experienced flooding my mind. “My stepdad snapped the wings over his knee on my birthday. He was on a rampage and found my planes. Made it his mission to destroy everything I ever loved.”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe he did that.”
I press my thumb against the wing where the split happened. “I can believe it. I’m just surprised it took him that long to not only find my plane but break it.”
“Wasn’t your birthday the day your dad died as well?” When I glance her way, she blushes. “Sorry, Rory shared a lot when you two were dating. I hope that’s okay.”
Not caring, I shrug. “Makes it easier on me. I don’t have to tell you everything and r
elive it again.”
“Are you over it all?” she asks, a tilt to her head and a hopeful look in her eyes.
“Am I over what my stepdad did to me? The neglect from my mom?” I push my hand through my hair and let out a long breath of air, releasing the demons starting to build inside me again. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over it. What they did is a part of me, an imprint I can’t wash away, but what I can do is not let it dictate my life. I learned that a few years back. If I keep dwelling on the past, there is no way I can move forward into my future. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, it makes a lot of sense.” She goes back to running her finger along my plane, deep in thought before saying, “Can we take the old girl for a spin?”
I light up. “I was planning on it. It’s why I brought you here, actually.”
“Yeah? To fly planes?”
“Yup.” I take the plane to the back of the car where I pull out a little jug of gasoline. “Hey, in the box below the shelf, there’s a tool box and a remote control, want to grab those?”
“Sure.” She bounces around, collecting the items and then follows me to the open parking lot, where I start checking the engine and filling the plane up with gas.
She watches over me, handing me things when I ask, showing interest by asking questions about what I’m doing.
It reminds me of when Gramps used to take me to the airfield to fly planes. Back then it was me asking question after question, wanting to know every little thing about flying. And just like Gramps, I take my time explaining things to her, watching how her mind starts to understand and she starts using the correct terms. And when she gets the terms correct, she fist-pumps the air, extremely excited that she’s talking the “lingo” with me. Her words, not mine.
“Okay, are you ready?”
She rubs her hands together. “I am so ready. Do I get to take her off?”
“Uh, no.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because I’m not about to let someone who’s never flown an RC plane before take off, or land for that matter, so don’t even ask. Crashing this guy is not an option.”
“Who says I’m going to crash it?”
I point to my chest. “Me.”
“Oh come on, give a girl a chance.”
I shake my head. “Maybe when we’re back in Vegas and we’re flying a less important plane, like the one I just finished building.”
“I’m going to hold you to that, Brooks.”
Hell, I’ll let her crash any one of my planes in Vegas if that means I get to hang out with her more.
I really think this was exactly what we needed—a refresher—something to remind her why we’re such good friends. The ease we have when it comes to conversation, the fun without really trying. And all the joking and teasing? Fuck, this feels good.
Maybe this isn’t just what we needed, but what I needed. The last few weeks have been painful. Being away from home, away from Ryan, from Sage, dealing with Bent’s mood, living in a hotel room and with reassignment looming, it catches up to you. Every once in a while, you need to take a break from it all.
This is my break.
“What are you waiting for? Get that girl up in the sky. My grabby hands are getting excited.” She comes after me with her fingers, but I scoot away before she can reach me.
“Okay, it’s going to be loud for a second, but once she’s up in the air, it’s going to be a lot of fun.”
“I’m so freaking ready.”
* * *
“I’m ready for my own too.”
I pull up to Ryan’s childhood home and take in the simple craftsman style two-story, evergreens in the front with a mix of rocks and boulders. A mailbox in the shape of the house at the end of the driveway, their name on the side.
It’s a beautiful home.
A home you would think lived a picture-perfect family on the inside, but from what Ryan has mentioned before I know it’s not true, I’m not the only one with a shitty childhood. I peer into the windows and wonder what happened behind those walls?
I bring my attention back to Ryan and say, “Maybe for Christmas I’ll get you your own plane. You can even pick the colors.”
“Yeah? That would be exciting. I think I would go for a mosaic look, something unique and different.”
“You can bet there won’t be another mosaic-covered plane out there.”
“Always looking to be original, that’s me.” She leans against the side of the door and takes off her seatbelt. “Thank you for today. I had such a good time, Colby.”
“Thanks for coming along and dealing with the nerdy side of me.”
“It’s not nerdy. It’s cute.” She looks away and bites on her bottom lip. I can see she wants to say something, that there is a confession of some sort dancing across the tip of her tongue, wanting to be unleashed, but before I can ask her what it is, what she’s hiding from me, she says, “Well, I should get going. My dad hates eating late.”
“Okay, yeah.” I pull on the back of my neck as she exits the car. I decide to do the same and walk to her side.
When she shuts the door and turns toward me, she clutches her purse close to her side and shifts on her feet, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Are you really breaking up with Donovan?” I don’t know why I ask it, but I feel that in order to sleep better tonight, I need to know the answer. I need it confirmed.
“Yes. I am. You were right, he’s not the guy for me.” Her lashes lift and her eyes fix on mine, blue and brilliant, and for a brief moment I have the urge to ask her who the guy for her really is. I’m tempted to figure out who this mystery man would be, the type of guy she’s looking for, but I hold back.
“Go ahead and gloat.” She turns away, but I pull her back to me, clutching her small chin between my forefinger and thumb.
Her mouth falls, her lip trembles, and her eyes widen as I take a step forward. “I don’t want to gloat, Ryan.” I take another step forward, invading her space. “I didn’t want to be right about Donovan. As a matter of fact, I wanted nothing more than to be proven wrong about him, but unfortunately for him, you are way out of his league.”
She tries to shake her head but I hold her still. “You are.”
She blinks rapidly, her eyes filling with tears. I feel this strong pull to comfort her, to not let her go, to keep her safe in my arms at all times.
And that realization hits me hard.
I stroke my thumb over her jawline, her head pressing into my touch. Closely, I observe the way her eyes flutter shut with each pass of my thumb, the way her neck moves when she swallows, and the slight part of her lips every time my thumb nears them.
She’s beautiful—stunning—and even more so without all the makeup she’s wearing. She doesn’t need it. She has the kind of natural beauty that brings a man to his knees to beg for her attention.
“Colby,” she whispers, pressing her hand against my chest. I lower my other hand to her hip, where I slowly caress the soft fabric of her jacket.
The cool night casts a dark blanket over our heads, and tiny sparkles of stars, partially obstructed by the clouds, shine above us as the street lamps come on for the night. A cool breeze starts to drift in, and I feel something deep within me I haven’t felt in a really long time.
I can’t pinpoint what it is or where it’s coming from but one thing is for sure, it’s the type of moment—connection—that makes me fucking happy. Being with Ryan.
My thumb moves closer to her mouth where I pull on her bottom lip briefly.
The air stills around us as her hand grips my sweater tightly.
My hand glides to the small of her back.
Our breaths mix as I keep my eyes trained on hers, and our chests both rise and fall together.
A blink of her eyes, a flutter of her lashes.
Another step closer.
A press to the small of her back.
She stands on her toes.
Her other hand rounds th
e back of my neck.
My mind goes blank, as all I can think about is the warmth of this woman, the way she makes me feel, the joy she brings me with a simple smile.
I think . . .
Fuck. I think—
Ring. Ring.
My phone blares in my pocket, scaring the shit out of the both of us. Ryan pushes off me, both hands in her hair, a look of disbelief in her eyes.
Unsure of what to do, of what was about to happen, I pull my phone out of my pocket and whisper a slew of curse words under my breath when I see Sage’s name flash across the screen.
I answer it and say, “Hey, can I call you back in a second?”
“Of course, is everything okay?”
“Yeah, just saying bye to Ryan.”
“Ryan is in Colorado Springs?”
“For the weekend, yeah.”
“Oh . . . fun. Tell her I said hi. Give me a call when you can.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you,” she says back, the term of endearment sounding slightly strangled.
When I hang up, Ryan is already halfway to her door, so I jog to catch up to her, pulling on her arm to get her to stop when I reach her.
“Hey.”
Keeping her gaze anywhere but on mine, she says, “Thanks for everything, Colby. Bye.”
She tries to pull away, but I stop her. “Hey, come here. Give me a hug at least.”
“I can’t.” She rips her arm from my grasp. “I just can’t.”
“Ryan,” I call out as she walks away. “Fucking talk to me. Don’t keep running away.”
“I have to run away, Colby, because if I don’t, I don’t know what will happen.”
Arms stretched wide, I ask, “What the hell does that mean?”
Backing away, she shakes her head and makes it to her front porch where she quickly says, “Good night, Colby.”
And just like that, she’s gone.
Fuck.
I grip the back of my head, the fine and short strands of my hair being tugged and pulled on as I make my way to the car, my mind whirling, my heart spiraling, my control slipping.
The Duets Page 83