by Laura Leone
Then Adam looked down at his food and said, "No way would I live with you."
"Of course," Ryan said, "if you'd visit me, I'd like that. You could come to my place." Seeing the familiar frown of wary suspicion creep across Adam's face, Ryan added, "You could watch TV. Raid the fridge. Play with my dog."
"I'd like to see your dog," Adam admitted. "I like dogs."
"I should warn you, Macy's idea of playing is just sleeping while you scratch his belly. He doesn't fetch. Or run. Or even walk much. I thought he had a thyroid problem, and Sara kept nagging me until I took him to the vet. But the vet did some tests and said, no, Macy's fine, he's just lazy, and I spoil him too much."
He was babbling. However, Adam seemed to find this an amusing story and asked a lot of questions about Macy.
"You can come see him any time you want," Ryan said.
The kid surprised him by saying, "Today?"
Ryan checked his watch. "Today's not good."
Another mood shift. "Oh, well. Forget it."
"It's just that I have to go to work soon." He'd told Adam he was a model.
"Whatever."
"What about tomorrow?" When Adam shrugged, Ryan said, "I could come get you in the morning." Seeing Adam puzzle over whether or not that sounded potentially dangerous, he added, "We could go by bus, if you want. So you'd know the way by yourself after that."
"Bus?"
"It's too far to walk."
"Do you come here by bus?"
"I usually bring my car and park it in a garage." He wasn't careless enough to leave his Infiniti sitting out on the street in this neighborhood.
Adam pondered this. "The bus sounds okay. Then I could leave whenever I want to."
"Okay. And once you know the way, you can come over whenever you want to, too."
"So I could see Macy tomorrow?"
Ryan smiled. "Yeah. And you can meet Sara... Oh, no, she won't be there tomorrow. She's going to her sister's for the day. But you can meet her next time." Struck by inspiration, he added, "Actually, I'd really like you to come over tomorrow, because it's my birthday."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"So how come your girl won't be there, then?"
"I forgot to tell her. And she wasn't my girl last year, so she doesn't know."
"Your birthday, huh? Well, I guess it sucks to be by yourself on your birthday."
"It totally sucks."
"I guess I could come over," Adam said.
"But the thing is," Ryan said, trying to get back to the discussion he wanted to have, "although you can visit me, there's a lot of reasons you can't live with me."
"I don't wanna live with you."
"Well, I wanted you to."
"You did?"
"So Sara tried to find out how we could do that. I've told you how smart she is. She's really good at finding out about things. And what she found out is that there's no way they'll let you live with me."
Adam shrugged and poked at his food.
"So then we started to look at other places you might be able to live."
Adam went still and gave him a dark glare. "Like what?"
"Well, there's this place I went to see yesterday..."
"What kind of a place, man?"
Ryan started describing Bernice Village. He was only a few sentences into his speech when Adam started protesting. And if Ryan had been negative when Isabel first suggested the place, Adam was positively livid.
"You're not putting me into another one of those places! No way!"
"It's not like that, Adam. I went to see it, and it's nice."
"Fuck you, man!"
"And I promise, no one is 'putting' you anywhere. We can just talk about this."
"Fuck your talk!"
"I won't ever try to make you do anything you don't want to do—"
"Why are you doing this? Why don't you just leave me alone?"
"—and I won't let anyone else make you do anything you don't want to do."
"Why don't you just stay away from me?"
"Because I'm worried about you."
Adam started sliding out of the booth where they sat. "Well, I don't need you worrying about me. And I sure as hell don't need you trying to put me away somewhere, where they can— can— I won't go!"
Ryan threw some money on the table and followed him out of the diner. "It's not safe for you, living on the streets."
"Yeah, well, so far it's better than the last place they put me!"
"No one's putting you in a place like that again."
"Bullshit, man!"
"Adam, you have no future on the streets. It's dangerous, you're not getting any education—"
"Just stay the fuck away from me!"
People were staring. Ryan ignored them as he pursued Adam down the street. "Will you just talk with me about this? I'm just asking to talk. Nothing more."
"Get away!"
Realizing that crowding and hounding Adam now would just make things worse, Ryan said, "Okay, I'll go now." He had to get ready for work, anyhow. "But I'll be back tomorrow. "
"Don't bother, man!"
"If you don't want to talk about this anymore, we won't."
"I don't want to talk to you at all."
"And if you want to talk about anything—not this, just anything—before then, or if you need help or something, you've got my phone number, right?" When Adam didn't respond, Ryan said, "Can I give it to you again?"
"I don't need it again," Adam snapped.
"Well, say it back to me, so I know you know it."
Adam made a rude gesture, turned around, and stalked away.
"Oh, that went well," Ryan muttered to himself. "Yeah, I could really make something worthwhile out of my life by doing this."
Chapter Fifteen
Sara felt cranky and morose when she got home on Sunday a full hour later than anticipated. Traffic coming back into the city had been awful, and the sun was low on the horizon by the time she opened the door to her apartment, came inside, and kicked off her shoes.
She immediately glanced out onto the balcony to see if Ryan was there. When she saw that he was, her heart gave a little skip. She opened her French doors and stepped out into the early evening breeze, longing to be with him.
He was leaning against the balcony rail, gazing out across the gradually darkening expanse of the park. The soft wind stirred his hair, ruffling it so the fading light could find the gold hidden somewhere in its dusky depths if only he'd favor the sun by turning his head just the right way. He wore old jeans, ragged around the cuffs, and a white shirt that he hadn't bothered to tuck in. He looked as carelessly beautiful as a wild animal, a wary creature willing to take food from her hand because he had grown to trust her.
She saw him stiffen a little when he heard the doors open, then turn his head slightly to acknowledge her presence.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi."
The shifting shadows emphasized the slant of his cheekbone, the slight hollow beneath it, the firm line of his jaw, the breath-stealing good looks which she knew by heart. His shoulders—straight, square, and smoothly muscled beneath the cotton of his shirt—moved with a single deep breath. Then he raised his arm to take a sip from the drink in his hand.
Sara came forward to stand beside him, looking in the direction of his gaze as she rested her hands on the balcony rail. Her heart pounded with sudden awareness. Drumming heavily in her ears. Echoing through her blood. Aching with anticipation inside her chest... because it knew what she had decided even before she acknowledged it in her mind. Even before she admitted to herself why she had come out here to join him in the seductive apricot light that turned him into a fawn, a golden panther, something both innocent and feral. Something she couldn't leave alone or turn her back on.
She heard the ice cubes click together in his glass, and she glanced sideways as he took another sip.
"Scotch?" she asked as he drank the last of it.
"Yeah." After a moment, h
e added, "I don't suppose you want any." His voice, soft as sand, sent a shiver through her.
"No."
"How was lunch at Miriam's?" he asked.
"Well, Jan's a better cook than Miriam is, thank God."
His mouth quirked. "That's not exactly what I meant."
"If you'd ever tasted Miriam's cooking, you'd realize how important that is."
"I meant," he said, "how was it, seeing your sister playing house with her lady love?"
"A little weird." She started chuckling, her mood shifting a bit now that she could finally share the day with him. "Of course, my father made it even weirder by doing his best to casually work the names of famous lesbians into the conversation."
Ryan's shoulders shook with silent laughter. "Of course."
"Mostly literary figures. Aunt Minnie got into the spirit of things and started mentioning Hollywood lesbians, but Dad had never heard of any of them." Smiling at Ryan, Sara admitted, "Jan bore up very well. But Miriam got a little short-tempered after a while."
"Go figure." He asked, "Do you feel better about Jan and Miriam now?"
"Yes, I do. Jan seems very good-natured, and it's obvious that she loves Miriam. They seem very happy together. So happy they're almost giddy." Sara folded her arms on the railing and rested her chin on them. "I felt a little uncomfortable, and I'm sure Miriam knew it. But, in fact, as 'meet the family' meals go, it was much better than when Miriam first brought David home."
"Well, he was a schmuck, after all."
She smiled. "I'll get used to the two of them together."
"You will."
"Miriam's happy. That's what matters."
"Right."
"I think that's what my father has decided matters, too." After a moment, she added, "He kept talking about my mother today. I guess because Jan can never meet her." Sara turned her head a little and watched the breeze toy with Ryan's hair. "To tell the truth, today would have been much more awkward if my mother had been there. But, of course, Miriam and I didn't contradict Dad when he kept saying he wished Jan could have known her."
He nodded absently. "I'm glad the day went all right."
Silence fell between them. After a while, she asked, "What did you do today?"
He frowned. "Tried to get Adam to talk to me."
"About Bernice Village?"
"No, I tried that yesterday. And he was furious about it. Today I just tried to get him to talk to me at all. About anything." Ryan shook his head, his expression bleak. "No dice."
"I know you're worried, but you knew it would be tough," she said. "You knew he'd reject the idea at first. I mean, Ryan, you rejected the idea at first." When he didn't respond, she put her hand on his arm.
He pulled away from her touch and stepped out of reach. "I know. I'm just a little..." He shrugged.
Sara straightened up, her heart starting to drum heavily again. "Are you going out tonight?"
"I'm off work today," was the bland response. After a moment he made a sound which might have been amusement—or might not. "It's my birthday. Catherine never makes me work on my birthday."
She turned to him. "Today? Your birthday?"
He looked into his empty glass. "Twenty-seven."
"Ryan! Why didn't you say something?"
He shrugged. "Just did."
"Before now, I mean," she chided.
He shrugged again. "What for?"
"So we could celebrate." When he didn't reply, she added, "We still can. Let's go out."
"Nah. Don't feel like it."
It hurt her to see him looking so downcast. She put a hand on his arm again.
He moved away as if she'd burned him. "Don't."
"Ryan."
"Just don't."
"But I—"
"I've just had a big shot of really good scotch on an empty stomach, Sara," he said. "Don't test me now."
"I'm not."
"If you touch me, you're testing me," he snapped. "That's how it is. So just back off, okay?"
He certainly hadn't intended that as a seductive speech, but his outburst made her head spin with desire.
"I don't want to go out, either," she said. "I have a better idea."
He caught the suggestive note in her voice and looked at her suspiciously. She held his gaze as she came toward him, tingling with nerves and excitement and the glow of passion finally let out of its cage. He went tense all over when she took his glass out of his hand. She delicately licked the rim where his lips had touched, then took a sip of the scotch-flavored melting ice. Their eyes met again, hers telling him what she wanted. He drew in a swift, sharp breath.
"No." He shook his head. "You said—"
"I don't care what I said."
He took a step back. "You'll regret it later."
She took a step forward. "I don't care about that, either."
He took his whiskey glass away from her. "I'm going inside now," he said, retreating as he spoke. "And tomorrow, you'll thank me for it."
As he turned away from her, she said, "Ryan, I love you."
He stopped in his tracks, lowered his head and made a choked sound. "Not fair, Sara."
"Not fair?" She pressed her body against his back and wrapped her arms around his waist. "My sister is so happy in love she's practically levitating. I felt so lonely, seeing the two of them together. You know what's not fair? I'm in love—"
"Sara..."
"—and I'm so lonely I wanted to cry all day. Why don't I get to be happy now that I've found someone, too?"
"I never wanted to hurt you like this."
"My father kept talking about my mother, and he misses her so much, his eyes got misty and his voice got choked." She felt Ryan's ribs moving in and out with his breath, felt his tension and his wary indecision. "I drove home all the way thinking, what if I died in a pile-up on the highway this afternoon? When I took my last breath, what would be my favorite memory? What would be my biggest regret?" She whispered, "They would both be you."
She felt a shudder go through him as she slid her palms across his stomach. One of his hands covered hers convulsively, gripping too hard. She closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. He didn't even breathe for a moment, and then he started breathing too hard.
Sara murmured, "And I couldn't even bear to think about how I'd feel if you died. It would be worse than pain, worse than grief, to lose you." She stroked his torso, her palms moving over the flesh-warmed fabric of his shirt. "Especially without ever having loved you the way I want to love you. It feels like criminal stupidity, like mortal sin to squander this, Ryan."
"If we make love..." His voice was dark and husky.
"Yes, let's make love," she urged, swamped with longing. "I want to feel you inside me and wrapped all around me."
"Sara." He dropped his glass, which clunked hard on the wooden balcony. "Everything will be different."
"I want it to be different."
He turned his head to rub his cheek against her hair. She heard him swallow. "You know where I've been."
"I don't care where you've been," she told him, meaning it. "I just want you to be with me."
"Don't change your mind afterwards," he whispered, turning in her arms.
"Don't change your mind now," she whispered back.
She met his kiss as his arms came around her. He was rough for a moment, squeezing the air from her body, grinding his lips against hers, shoving her back against the door to his apartment so hard that she grunted as she hit it with a thud. And then suddenly he was gentle, nuzzling her as his hands stroked and squeezed, murmuring her name and pressing soft, warm kisses upon her forehead, her cheek, her neck, and upon the flesh which he bared as his fingers worked at the buttons of her blouse.
She clutched his shoulders when she felt his breath on her cleavage, and then his hot, tender lips. He unfastened her bra, pushed it out of his way, and sought her breasts with his mouth. She sagged in his arms as her knees gave way and dark heat flooded her senses.
It gave her an absurd thrill that his eagerness made him clumsy. He laughed shakily because he couldn't get the door open right away, and then he apologized in horrified tones for accidentally whacking her with it when he yanked on it.
"I'm so sorry!"
"Come inside," she insisted, tugging on his hand.
"Are you okay? Does it—"
She kissed him. "Mmmm, that's better."
He forgot his earnest apologies and kissed her again, his tongue hot and sweet inside her mouth, his hands moving over her with possessive urgency. They stumbled across the living room together, their mouths clinging ferociously while they fumbled with each other's clothing. She made a frustrated sound as his buttons confounded her, and she stopped kissing him to look at what she was doing. He seized her chin and brought her mouth back to his again, then dealt with the buttons himself. He shrugged out of his shirt as he backed her towards the bedroom, his mouth still moving hungrily on hers. His back and shoulders were naked under her hands, his skin smooth and warm and satiny. The tender fuzz of his chest brushed against her breasts as he tugged off her blouse and her bra.
They bumped into a wall and he pressed her against it, moving his hips snugly into hers, letting her feel the effect she had on him. She arched her back, rubbing her breasts against him, and cupped his bottom to pull him even closer.
He drew in a breath through his teeth and pulled his head back, putting his hands on either side of her face so he could look into her eyes.
"Tell me again," he said.
Dazed with passion, it took her a moment to realize what he meant. "I love you."
He kissed her, his lips soft, his breath hot.
"I love you, too," he said. "You know that, don't you?"
"I guess I do."
"Don't guess." He burrowed his fingers into her hair and pressed his forehead against hers. "You're the best thing in my life. The best thing that's ever happened to me."
She smiled, her heart melting. "You're the best thing in my life, too."