by Mari Carr
“What’s going on here?”
Darcy turned to see her dad coming from the adjoining restaurant, Sunday’s Side. Padraig had already come around the counter to step between the men and to help Ron up.
“You okay, man?” Padraig asked Ron, who simply nodded, his gaze never leaving Ryder’s, which seemed smart.
Ryder was far from cooling off. Completely out of control. His face blood-red, his eyes dark with rage, his expression murderous, as he struggled to break free from Oliver and Gavin’s grip. It was definitely taking both men—who were strong as oxen—to hold him back.
Darcy felt like she was looking at a stranger.
“Ryder. Please,” Darcy said, flabbergasted by his jealousy, searching for a way to calm him down. It was a fruitless attempt, as he never glanced her direction.
Dad stepped between the two men, looking as confused as she felt. “Ryder, son. You need to calm down. Now.”
Her dad spoke with a quiet authority. He was also wearing his police uniform, his badge, and his gun belt. It was his night to work. He always stopped by before clocking in to grab a quick dinner with Mom.
Ryder was breathing rapidly, his chest rising and falling. And while he wasn’t struggling to break Oliver and Gavin’s grip anymore, neither man was letting him go, either. Probably because Ryder genuinely looked like one word would flip the switch again and he’d go back in for blood.
Dad turned toward Ron, taking in the bright red, swollen spot high up on his cheek from Ryder’s punch. He was going to have a black eye tomorrow, no doubt about it. “You okay?”
Unlike Ryder, Ron was calm, almost subdued. “Yeah.”
“Dad…” Darcy started, though she didn’t have a clue what to say. She didn’t understand a damn thing that was going on at the moment.
Dad gave her a regretful look, then looked back at Ron. “You want to press charges?”
Ron shook his head quickly, his eyes darting over to Ryder with something like…
Regret?
Darcy wondered if they knew each other.
“No. I’m good.” Then Ron turned to the other guys he’d been drinking with. “I think I’m gonna take off. See y’all next week at work.”
No one replied, not a single word, as Ron left the pub. It wasn’t easy to render her or her family speechless, but with one punch, Ryder had managed.
Dad turned back toward Ryder, but before he could say anything, Oliver was releasing his hold on Ryder’s arm.
“What the fuck, man? What’s wrong with you? Ron’s a good guy.”
Ryder snorted angrily. “A good guy…” he murmured.
Whatever white-hot rage had been coursing through Ryder started to evaporate, and for the first time since entering the pub, he looked at Darcy.
“Ryder?” she said softly, searching his face for some sort of sign of why he’d snapped so unexpectedly.
His voice when he spoke was wooden, his face completely closed to her. “I told you I couldn’t do this, Darcy. Told you from the beginning.”
His words went through her like daggers because there was no mistaking where this was going. And Darcy didn’t have a clue how to stop it.
“Ryder, wait,” she said, holding her hands up, trying to step closer.
He shook his head. “No. I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this. I can’t do it again. Any of it. I told you that, but you didn’t listen.”
He kept repeating himself, working hard to drive his point home.
“Let’s just take a minute. Maybe we can go—”
“This is over.”
“Please,” she whispered. “You have to help me understand why—”
“I have to go.”
He turned without saying goodbye, and she started to follow. Ryder must have seen her move, read her intent to chase him, because he spun back around.
“Don’t,” he said hotly.
She blinked rapidly, fighting the tears threatening to fall.
“Don’t follow me.” He must have seen her distress because his eyes softened for just a moment. “This is for the best, Darcy. You have to believe me when I say that.”
“No.” She shook her head, but his mask fell back into place. “Please. Don’t do this. I lo—”
“Stop.” Ryder shut her down quickly, wincing as if she’d struck him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, as he turned once more and headed toward the door.
Darcy took one step to follow before her dad gently grasped her hand to stop her.
“I think you should let him go for now, Darcy.”
She paused. If her dad hadn’t added the words for now, she would have shrugged off his grip and run after Ryder no matter what anyone said.
“I don’t understand what happened.”
Dad gave her a sympathetic smile, then gestured toward an empty booth near the back of the pub. “Why don’t we have a seat over there? We can talk.”
She went with him, the two of them sitting across from each other. Padraig followed them over, clearly concerned. “You okay, Darc?”
She nodded once, then shrugged. “I’m confused and…” She shook her head. “No. I’m not okay.”
“I’m sorry, sweet pea.” Padraig placed a soft kiss on top of her head. “You need anything right now?”
Darcy shook her head again, struggling to speak—her throat was closing up.
“Aaron?”
Dad said, “No thanks, Paddy. I’m on duty later.”
“Okay. Wave me down if you change your mind.” Padraig left them alone.
Dad reached across the table to grasp one of her hands in his. “Maybe we should take this from the top. It seemed pretty obvious at Bubbles’s party that you and Ryder are seeing each other.”
“Yeah. We’ve been going out.”
“When did that start?”
“Halloween. We were both trapped in the elevator during the power outage for a few hours.”
Her dad’s eyebrows rose. “And this is the first I’m hearing of that? Why wouldn’t you have called me to get you out?”
Darcy grinned. Her dad would always be overprotective. She held her other hand out. “It was a city-wide power outage on Halloween. I’m sure you were needed elsewhere.”
“Yeah. Okay. So Ryder…”
“Ryder,” she said sadly.
“He’s older than you are,” Dad said.
“I know.”
“And your boss.”
Darcy grimaced. “You’re not saying anything Ryder hasn’t said himself.”
“Neither one of those things is a problem?”
“No,” she said. “They aren’t.”
Dad considered that, rubbing his jaw. “His wife has been gone…what…three, four years?”
“Four.”
“Still grieving?” he asked.
“I didn’t think so. I…don’t know.” As Dad’s interrogation continued, she realized the cop in him was trying to gather all the evidence in hopes of understanding why Ryder Hagen, the least emotional man she’d ever known, had just flipped his fucking lid because she was talking to a stranger.
“How serious are things between the two of you?” Dad asked.
In Darcy’s mind, they were as serious as they got. She’d fallen head over heels for him years ago. And she’d just begun to think those feelings were reciprocated. She knew Rome wasn’t built in a day, but dammit, she’d really believed construction was well underway. Until tonight.
“Ryder’s been resistant to dating anyone again. Says he likes his unencumbered, workaholic life. Plus, there’s Clint to think of.”
“And you changed his mind about that?”
She casually lifted one shoulder. “I suggested a trial run.”
“How many dates have you had?”
Darcy closed her eyes wearily. “Probably like a dozen.”
Dad chuckled. “Doesn’t sound like a trial to me. Sounds like you’re dating.”
“We are. It was real—all of it. At least…to me.”
&
nbsp; Her father sobered up. “You’re in love with him.”
Darcy didn’t hesitate to respond. She nodded, swallowing heavily, fighting overtime not to cry.
“When Ryder said he couldn’t do this, what did he mean?”
“His marriage to Denise…” Darcy tried to figure out how she could explain without sharing more than she should. She longed to open up and pour her heart out to her dad, but so much of this wasn’t her story to tell. “There were some problems. It’s affected the way he sees himself. He blames himself, says he wasn’t a good husband. Plus, I think, since her death, he’s struggled with trusting other people. He’s closed himself off to the idea of falling in love again because he had his heart broken. So now he’s told himself he’s not capable of being in a relationship.”
Dad leaned back and blew out a long, slow breath. “Trust in a relationship—”
“Is everything. I know that, Dad.”
“Jealousy is—”
“A horrible thing,” she interjected.
Dad chuckled. “You’re just like your mom. She never gives me a chance to get a word in edgewise, either. What I wanted to say is, trust in a relationship takes times to develop, and jealousy is often the fallout until that trust is built.”
“He punched a guy, Dad. I hadn’t said more than three sentences to Ron. I wasn’t flirting, I swear.”
“I didn’t say you were. When it’s the beginning of a relationship and a man reaches that point where he’s in love, but still in denial, jealousy isn’t all that uncommon.”
“You’ve never been jealous with Mom.”
Dad laughed. “You’re joking, right? Vegas?”
Darcy frowned. “What about it? You and Mom ran off to Vegas and eloped. It was super romantic.”
“Wow. It appears your mom and I must have left big chunks out of our marriage story. We weren’t dating when we went to Vegas, and we didn’t go there together to elope. I followed her there, in a jealous rage because she’d flown across the country with a married man.”
“Wait. What? Who?”
“Trevor Blankenship.”
“The guy who ran off with the stripper and got lost in the desert? The one who was your best man? I thought he went to Vegas with you and Mom.”
Dad shook his head, chuckling. “Good God, no. Trevor had gotten in a fight with his wife and they’d separated. He and Riley were both in a funk, and drunk, and your mother got it in her head the two of them should take a trip to Vegas to cheer themselves up.”
“Sounds like her,” Darcy said. “I mean the trip part, not the married-guy part.”
“Because that part wasn’t true. And if I’d been thinking clearly, thinking like a man who wasn’t wearing his heart on his sleeve, I probably would have had a less stressful eight-hour cross-country journey to Sin City. Instead, I’d worked myself up into a jealous lather. One that dissipated the second I saw your mom at the blackjack tables, laughing and having the time of her life.”
“Where was Trevor?”
“Draped around the stripper.”
Darcy laughed. “I can’t believe I’ve never heard that part of the story. I mean, I knew about the jealous estranged wife showing up, and the stripper and Trevor getting in trouble with the mob or something, and Bubbles helping you look for them, but I didn’t realize you hadn’t all traveled together.”
“I’ve never said this to Riley, so if you repeat it to her, I’ll flat-out deny it, but her running off to Vegas with Trevor was the best thing she’s ever done. It forced me to pull my head out of my ass and see what was standing right in front of me.”
Darcy wiped away a tear, loving her father’s story, even as her own heart was breaking. “Pop Pop said the same thing happened with him and Grandma Sunday. He thought she could do better, so he pushed her away. But I don’t see how that’s the same as what just happened here.”
Dad reached for her hand again. “That’s because you’re too close to it. You said Ryder wasn’t happy in his marriage, that he struggles with trust and love. You think that’s impacting his feelings for you?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Well, I have a different perspective because I was standing in the opening between the pub and restaurant when Ryder walked in. I saw his face when he spotted you with that Ron guy.” Dad took a deep breath and, because she knew her dad, she understood that he was trying to find the right words.
With her mom, whatever popped into her head came out. But Dad was different. He always carefully considered what he wanted to say. Which was probably why she and her mom could have knockdown, drag-out arguments whenever they disagreed, but with her dad…just a few gentle, well-chosen words from him on something he thought she was doing wrong would have her thinking for days.
“What did you see?” she asked.
“A man doesn’t throw a punch over a woman he doesn’t care about.”
Darcy let that sink in deep, took the words as the gift they were. Unfortunately, they didn’t change what had just happened. Ryder wasn’t finished fighting this thing between them. What if he never did?
“What do I do, Dad? How do I fix this?”
Dad smiled sadly. “That’s the problem. You don’t. Ryder does.”
“But—”
“I’m going to say a word, and you’re not going to like it.”
Darcy closed her eyes because she knew what was coming.
“Patience. You’re going to have to let Ryder figure this out and come to you. If you keep pushing, Darcy…”
“I’ll push him away.”
Chapter Sixteen
Ryder opened the front door just as Padraig reached the top step. He’d heard the car pull in the driveway. He’d expected it to be Darcy, so he was surprised when he saw her cousin climbing out of the vehicle.
“Let me guess. I’m banned from the pub,” Ryder said, still struggling to believe last night was real. It had felt a little bit like an out-of-body experience. He could see himself storming across the bar, throwing the punch, losing his shit, breaking Darcy’s heart, but he couldn’t quite connect the dots, make that man fit with the man he was today…who just felt numb.
“You’re not banned. I was hoping maybe we could talk for a few minutes.”
“Did Darcy send you here?”
Padraig rolled his eyes. “Gonna let you answer that yourself because it’ll tell me how well you know my cousin.”
Ryder shook his head. “No. She didn’t. Darcy fights her own battles.”
“Good answer. Is this a bad time?”
“No. Yvonne, Leo, and the kids went to brunch with your uncle Ewan and aunt Natalie.”
Padraig grinned in such a way that Ryder knew he’d already timed his visit based on that intel.
“Which you knew.”
Padraig didn’t deny it.
Ryder sighed as he stepped aside, gesturing for Padraig to enter. “Your family has issues, man.”
Padraig laughed as he walked in. “Probably, but you’ll never hear me complain.”
The two of them walked to the living room, Ryder making a detour by the kitchen to grab them both a beer. Of all Darcy’s cousins, Ryder figured he’d probably spent the most time with Padraig, though only because the man served him drinks whenever he stopped by the pub for a beer with Leo or a happy hour with Darcy. They’d never had a serious conversation, their past chats limited to bourbon, sports, and the weather.
“Guess it’s pretty obvious why I’m here,” Padraig started once they were settled in the living room, Padraig on the couch, Ryder on the recliner.
“I’m sorry about last night, starting that shit in the pub. Let’s just say that wasn’t my finest moment.”
Padraig shrugged and grinned. “It’s an Irish pub, man. Believe me, yours wasn’t the first fist to fly in there, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”
Ryder took a sip of his beer. “Even so, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, the apology wasn’t necessary, but it’s accepted just the sam
e. Debated whether or not I should come over because I know what’s going on between you and Darcy is none of my damn business. It’s just…I’ve always sort of felt a kinship to you. If that makes sense.”
Ryder nodded. While he didn’t know Padraig well, he felt as if he knew him too. They’d both been widowed when they were young men. “It does. I’ve felt the same.”
Padraig picked at the label on his beer bottle for a moment. “Everyone grieves differently, Ryder. And you can’t work off anyone’s timeline.”
“I’m not still grieving for Denise.”
Padraig looked up and studied his face—really studied it—and Ryder recognized the moment Darcy’s cousin realized that was true. “Good. That’s good.”
And while Padraig acknowledged Ryder’s misery had lifted, Ryder could also see Padraig was still swimming in a sea of it. Still devastated over the death of his wife, Mia.
“I didn’t break things off with Darcy because of Denise’s death. I broke them off because of her life. Our life together. I wasn’t a good husband, Padraig. I worked long hours and even when I was home, I wasn’t really here—always working on the house or zoned out in front of the TV. I was distant and cold and stressed out all the time. No romance. No flowers. No sweet words. I shut Denise out because I thought my damn paycheck and the fact I was home every night was enough to prove that I loved her. That I shouldn’t have to say it all the time. Darcy deserves better than that.”
Padraig tilted his head. “How old were you when you married Denise?”
“Twenty-four.”
“And when did Clint come along?”
Ryder gave him a rueful grin. “Six months after the wedding.”
“Do you think you would have married Denise if she hadn’t gotten pregnant?”
Ryder had had a lot of years to consider that question, but he’d never spoken the answer aloud. Even now, he couldn’t make himself say it. “I really liked Denise when we were dating, but we’d only been together a few months. After we got married and Clint came along, I loved her.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No,” Ryder sighed. “I wouldn’t have married her.”