Sherryl Woods

by Devaneys 01 - Ryan's Place (v5)

  Ryan stood as if frozen while she moved to a mirror on the foyer wall. Once the sparkling clips were in her hair, she turned to him with a smile. “They’re perfect, the very best present anyone ever gave me. Thank you.”

  Ryan didn’t know how to cope with either her gratitude or the too-obvious love shining in her eyes. It was all too much for a man who’d rarely been the recipient of either, at least not from anyone who’d truly mattered. Panic rushed through him. Not five minutes ago he’d told her that he was wrong for her, and now, apparently, she was more convinced than ever that they were exactly right for each other. He’d never realized before that a gift could speak volumes, could even contradict words, no matter how emphatically they’d been expressed.

  “Maggie, I’m sorry. I can’t do this,” he said, turning toward the door. Before he could bolt, however, she stepped in front of him.

  “Do what?” she asked.

  He gestured toward the rest of the house, which was crowded with O’Briens. “The family thing. I’m no good at it.”

  Her gaze locked with his, unrelenting, yet tempered with understanding. “If that’s true—and I’m not saying I believe it for a minute—then it’s time you told me why. The whole story, not bits and snatches.”

  Ryan sighed at her reasonable request. “Yes, I do owe you an explanation, but not today. Your family’s waiting for you in there.”

  “They’re waiting for both of us,” she corrected. “There are plenty of appetizers and Dad’s eggnog. They won’t mind waiting a little longer.”

  So, he thought, this was it. “Is there someplace we can talk privately?”

  “My room,” she said at once.

  Ryan balked as if she’d suggested going upstairs to make love. “I am not going to your room with you, in front of your entire family. Are you nuts? What will they think?”

  “That we’re looking for someplace private,” she replied reasonably. “In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a crowd in the kitchen keeping my mom company while she cooks. There’s a crowd in the den watching football. The kids are in the rec room downstairs. And there are at least a half dozen people in the living room listening to every word we’re saying right now. Do you have a better idea?”

  He latched on to her hand, grabbed a coat off the rack by the door and dragged her outside to his car. He turned the heater up full blast, then turned to look at her. Only then did he realize that he’d mistakenly grabbed a coat belonging to someone much larger. She looked lost and more delicate than ever in the folds of dark-blue wool. Her wide eyes watched him warily as if she were uncertain what sort of storm she’d unleashed.

  Before he could drag her to him and kiss her the way he desperately wanted to, he forced himself to take a deep breath and tell her everything—about the way his parents had run off, about the devastating day he’d been separated from his brothers, about the roller-coaster ride he’d taken through the foster care system, about Father Francis catching him just as he’d been about to break into a neighborhood quick-mart for something to eat on a bitterly cold Thanksgiving eve.

  “It wasn’t the first time I’d broken into a store, and probably wouldn’t have been the last,” he told her, his gaze unflinching. “I was a thief.”

  “You were a hungry kid,” she countered, her eyes overflowing with sympathetic tears.

  “Don’t excuse what I did because you feel sorry for me,” he retorted sharply, hating that she seemed so eager to overlook the truth. “And don’t you dare pity me. I didn’t deserve it then, and I certainly don’t now. I knew right from wrong.”

  “You were a boy,” she insisted, still fiercely defending him. “You were obviously desperate.”

  “I was old enough to know better,” he countered just as harshly. “I was just a no-good brat. Obviously, my parents knew that.” He took a deep breath, then blurted the secret guilt he’d kept hidden in his heart for so long. “It’s why they left, why I could never fit in with any of the foster families.”

  Maggie stared at him in shocked disbelief. “No,” she said, flatly refusing to accept his explanation. “Whatever the reason your parents left, it wasn’t that.”

  Ryan was startled by the depth of her conviction. He wished he were half as convinced that he’d had no role to play in their leaving. What else was he to think, though? He’d been the oldest. If only he’d taken on more responsibility, behaved better, perhaps things would have been different.

  “I’ve asked this before, but you’ve avoided answering. Have you ever tried to find them or your brothers?” she asked, her voice suddenly gentle.

  He shook his head.

  “I’ve asked before, but I’ll ask it again—why not?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? They wanted no part of me or my brothers. Why should I go crawling after them?”

  “If it were me, I’d want to know why they did it,” she said simply. “I’d have to know.”

  “Some things defy explanation.”

  “And some things are less painful when you’re old enough to understand the truth.”

  “That’s nothing more than a bunch of psychological mumbo-jumbo and you know it,” he accused. “I don’t need it.”

  “Then what do you need from me?”

  He regarded her sadly. “Nothing,” he insisted, lying through his teeth. “Absolutely nothing.”

  Maggie didn’t say a word, but she looked shattered. Before he realized what she intended, she was out of the car and running up the sidewalk. Ryan sat there, the open passenger door letting in the freezing air, and realized that never, not even on the day he’d been abandoned by his parents, had he felt quite so alone.

  The pounding on the door to his apartment would have awakened the dead. Ryan scowled but didn’t budge from his chair. The drink he’d poured himself when he’d returned from Maggie’s was still full. Even as he’d filled the glass, he’d known the solution to his problems wasn’t alcohol. Unless he drank the whole blasted bottle it wouldn’t grant him the oblivion he sought.

  “Dammit, I know you’re in there,” Rory shouted. “Open the door or I’ll have to break it down.”

  Ryan sighed. He knew Rory was not only capable of such a thing but, given the heat in his voice, probably even eager to do it. He crossed the room in three long strides and threw open the door.

  “What is your problem?” he demanded.

  “I’m not the one with the problem,” Rory said.

  “Oh?”

  “Maggie called. She’s worried about you.”

  “She shouldn’t be,” Ryan said.

  “Then call her and tell her that.”

  “I don’t think so.” As horrendous as this pain in his chest was, he knew that dragging Maggie back into his life wasn’t going to work. It was better that they end this with a clean break.

  Rory noted the glass of scotch beside his chair. “I thought you didn’t drink.”

  “I rarely drink. There’s a difference,” Ryan said. “And if you nose around a little more closely, you’ll see that I haven’t touched that drink, either.”

  Rory gave a nod. “That’s okay, then. Want to talk about what happened?”

  “No.”

  “Interesting. Maggie didn’t say much, either.”

  “How discreet of her,” Ryan said sarcastically. “It’s a pleasant change.”

  Rory frowned at him then. “Maligning Maggie won’t fix whatever’s bugging you.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?”

  “Talking it out might help.”

  “I am not discussing this, not with you, not with Maggie,” Ryan said forcefully, his gaze leveled at his friend. “Are we clear on that?”

  “Whatever you say,” Rory said. “I suppose I’m expected to call her and tell her you’re still among the living?”

  Ryan shrugged. “Up to you.”

  “Perhaps I should drive out to console her,” Rory suggested slyly.

  Ryan felt his gut tighten. “Don’t expect me to object.”

/>   “Okay, that’s it,” Rory declared, plopping down on the sofa. “I’m not leaving here until you tell me what happened. The day you say it’s okay for me to pay a visit to Maggie is obviously the next-to-last day of the world.”

  Despite his foul mood, Ryan felt his lips twitch. “It’s nothing that dire. It’s just that it’s over,” he told Rory, keeping his tone surprisingly even. “Not that there was anything to begin with, just the promise of something.”

  “And you ended it, I suppose.”

  Ryan thought back over the scene outside of Maggie’s. He’d said the words that had ended it, but it was Maggie who’d walked away. There was equal blame, if he wanted to be honest about it. No, he corrected, the blame was all his. He’d done what he was so good at doing. He’d shut her out, this time with a declaration she couldn’t ignore.

  “Yeah, I suppose I ended it,” he admitted.

  “Why the devil would you do a lame-brained thing like that?” Rory demanded, clearly dumbstruck. “And on Christmas, too? Have you no heart at all?”

  Ryan met his friend’s scowling gaze. “No,” he said evenly. “And isn’t that the point?”

  “Sure, and if that’s so, then why does it appear to me that it’s not your hard head that’s suffering so tonight? It seems to me it’s your heart that’s broken,” Rory said, then headed for the door. “Think about that one, why don’t you?”

  When the door clicked shut, Ryan closed his eyes against the tide of anguish and regret washing over him. He tried once again telling himself that he’d done the right thing, but being in the right was cold comfort.

  The remainder of Christmas day passed in a blur for Maggie. She managed to keep a smile on her face, but she didn’t really fool anyone. She knew, because they all tiptoed around Ryan’s sudden disappearance, not a one of them asking why he’d gone. Matt quietly offered Father Francis a lift back to the city, and the priest left after giving Maggie’s hand a sympathetic squeeze. Obviously, not even he intended to try to explain away Ryan’s abrupt departure. Of course, Maggie already knew the answer to that. He’d left because he couldn’t bear to spend another minute in her company…and because she’d run at the first sign of trouble.

  The fact that her call to Rory had been as pointless as every other attempt to get through to Ryan only made her heartache worse. He’d called back to confirm that Ryan had gotten home, adding nothing more, not even a glimmer of hope that Ryan’s brooding state was likely to change come morning.

  After several restless, sleepless nights, by the following Monday morning Maggie had convinced herself that she ought to search for the Devaneys if Ryan wasn’t going to do it. They were the key to this.

  Downstairs, though, in the clear light of day, she knew that finding Ryan’s family wasn’t up to her. No matter how important she thought it was for Ryan to confront the past, he was the only one who could make the decision to do so.

  “Maggie?” her mother said, studying her worriedly. “What’s troubling you? I haven’t wanted to pry, but did you and Ryan have a fight the other day? Is that why he left?”

  Had it been a fight? Not really. He’d simply told her he didn’t need her, that he never would. She’d walked away without a word.

  “No,” she said wearily, stirring sugar into the tea her mother set in front of her.

  “Then what?”

  “I can’t talk about it, not just yet,” she said.

  “I saw the hair clips he gave you. They’re lovely.”

  Maggie smiled. “Aren’t they? He couldn’t have picked a more perfect gift.”

  “Did you give him his present?”

  She shook her head. “I never had the chance.”

  “Will you take it to him?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  “Because you don’t want to be the one to take the first step toward mending fences? Pride’s a lonely bedfellow,” her mother reminded her. “If it were me, I’d take it today and resolve whatever disagreement you had so you can start the new year fresh.”

  Maggie sighed. It wasn’t pride that had her considering staying away from the pub. It was a matter of protecting her aching heart.

  But deep inside, she knew that staying away was impossible. The two most important people in Ryan’s life had turned their backs on him at a critical time. She was not about to be just another person who loved him and let him down.

  And she did love him. She’d accepted that weeks ago. She’d also accepted that she’d found her niche at the pub. She liked working side by side with Ryan. She loved making the customers feel welcome, loved the homey feel of the place, the impromptu singing that livened the atmosphere on many a night. Who would have thought that Father Francis would have a voice like an angel?

  Maggie was not going to give up any of that without a fight. She stood up, then bent to kiss her mother’s cheek. “Thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “For reminding me what’s important,” she said.

  “Did I do that?” her mother inquired innocently.

  Maggie grinned. “You and Dad do that every day, just by being who you are.”

  A serene smile stole across her mother’s face. “If we’ve given you an understanding of what marriage can be at its full potential, then we’ve done well by you. Now run along. I have faith that you can teach Ryan the same lesson with a little patience and a lot of love.”

  “I hope so,” Maggie said. “Because I do love him, Mom.”

  Her mother gave her a hug. “I know you do. I also know he probably doesn’t make it easy. But if you ask me, he returns those feelings. I just don’t think he recognizes it quite yet, perhaps because it’s such a new experience for him.”

  Maggie thought about her mother’s words on the drive into Boston. She held tightly to them as she braced herself, put on a sunny smile and walked into the pub as if she’d never been away. She dropped his present casually on the bar, then moved on to hang up her coat. Before she turned away she saw the surprise in Ryan’s eyes and something else, possibly a hint of relief.

  Determined to act as if nothing were amiss, she grabbed her apron and immediately went to work, grateful that the place was packed and she could delay actually speaking to Ryan.

  When Maureen caught up with her, she said, “Maggie, thank God you’re back.”

  “I can see you’re swamped,” Maggie said.

  “It’s not the crowds I can’t handle, it’s Ryan. He’s been grouchy as a bear since Christmas. It’s a wonder he hasn’t driven all the customers away, to say nothing of the staff. Even Rory’s giving him a wide berth.”

  That news gave Maggie more confidence. When she eventually passed behind the bar, Ryan caught her hand and held her still, his blue eyes searching her face.

  “I’m sorry for what happened on Christmas,” he said finally. “I behaved like an idiot.”

  She studied his dear, familiar face and saw the genuine remorse. She touched a hand to his cheek. “I know.”

  “I’m glad you came back.”

  She permitted herself a small smile. “I know that, too.”

  He drew in a deep breath as if gathering his courage, then declared, “I’ve had nothing to do but think the past few days, and I’ve come to a conclusion. I want you, Maggie O’Brien, and if you say you know that, as well, I’ll have to kiss you, right here in front of everyone.”

  Her smile spread. “I know everything about you, Ryan Devaney. Get used to it.”

  It was tantamount to a dare and they both knew it. Heat flared in his eyes right before his mouth covered hers. This was no coaxing, tentative kiss. It was a crushing, demanding kiss that had her blood turning to fire. The new urgency and neediness turned the kiss even more dangerous than all the others that had gone before. His tongue swept inside her mouth, and Maggie felt the world spin.

  The only thing that stopped the kiss from lasting an eternity was the cheer that erupted from the entire bar. Ryan backed away from her as if he’d been burned.

&nb
sp; “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice husky.

  Maggie scowled at his words. “Don’t you dare apologize,” she said.

  He grinned at the ferocity of her response. “We’ll finish this later,” he promised.

  “The kiss or the discussion?”

  “Probably both,” he admitted with a rueful grin.

  It was all the opening she needed. Maggie’s gaze locked with his. “It could be a good night to close early,” she suggested with a wink.

  Ryan shook his head, suddenly all practicality and reason, as he grabbed a cloth and began polishing the bar. “Monday-night football.”

  She’d already learned not to let reason kick in with him. It kept him safe, not alive the way a man should be. He needed to work on his spontaneity.

  She glanced around at the sea of mostly familiar faces and said loudly, “Don’t any of these people have televisions at home?”

  The question was greeted with laughter and a sudden flurry of activity, and the place cleared out in ten minutes flat. Even Maureen had vanished with a promise to come in early to count the receipts in the morning.

  “You can sleep in,” she said to Ryan with a wink.

  After Maureen had gone, locking the door behind her, Ryan gazed around with a stunned expression, then faced Maggie with feigned indignation. “You trying to ruin my business?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. Just trying to get your clothes off.”

  He swallowed hard at that, then turned out all the lights except for the neon shamrock in the window, picked up his unopened gift and grabbed her hand. “Well, then, since it looks as if I have the night off, let’s go upstairs and see what we can do about that.”

  Maggie gave him a considering look. “What’s wrong with right here?”

  “You want me to strip in the middle of the pub?”

  “I’m a risk taker. How about you?”

  “The condoms are upstairs.”

  Maggie hesitated, then glanced around the room with regret. “I’m not that much of a risk taker. Upstairs it is.”