Unforgettable

by Alexander, S. B.

  Haven

  Six days had passed since Ryker had broken down at the cemetery. That night, I’d learned it was the first time he had cried since he’d lost his family. I hadn’t been surprised. Sometimes the shock didn’t wear off for weeks, even months. I’d seen that happen to my father. He’d refused to believe that my mom was gone. He’d drunk and moped around, but I didn’t see him shed a tear until about three months after we’d buried her. Then one day, I’d found him on the couch, sobbing. I had stayed by his side, consoling him, crying with him, and helping my dad heal.

  For me, the process of being there for someone when they were grieving gave me a sense of peace. I couldn’t tell Ryker that the pain would ease or that it would get easier, because I still had bad days when I thought of my mom.

  Ryker had asked why I was in his life. I now knew the reason. I was there to help him get through this tough time. I was there to give him my shoulder and support. I wasn’t a religious person, but I did believe in God and fate, and fate wanted me to help him. To a certain extent, Ryker was helping me.

  Before we’d left the cemetery, he’d accompanied me to my mom’s grave. We’d both shed tears—lots of them. And when we had driven away, I believed we’d both stitched up a hole in our hearts. I wouldn’t say he was out of the woods yet, but processing death was a journey, and I wanted to help him in any way I could.

  Ryker and I were walking into Woodcreek High. He’d invited me to join him at an art festival the school was having. A painting Leigh had done was on display, and according to Ryker, he wanted some company or a shoulder to cry on just in case. Lucas was supposed to attend, but something had come up at the last minute. I jumped at the chance to help a friend despite my father’s rules.

  “I need to send a text,” I said as we approached the entrance.

  After our first kiss at the Marriott, I’d worried that Tabitha or Beverly would tattle on me to my father. However, all had been quiet. Father had been traveling, and with election day approaching, he was knee deep in getting out to talk to voters.

  Ryker studied me, his gray eyes glinting in the late-afternoon sunlight. “Something wrong?”

  “Just something I forgot to do. Go. I’ll be in shortly.” The last thing I wanted to do was bring up my father and ruin Ryker’s night. However, as we’d gotten out of the car, I realized that Mr. Bridges might be there. Considering he was friends with my father, I’d decided it was best to nip any potential problems in the bud.

  I watched Ryker as he strutted in, his shoulders seemingly tense. He’d been quiet in the car on the way over. I hadn’t needed to ask him to know that he was thinking of his sister.

  I typed furiously on my phone so I could get inside to hold his hand.

  Me: I’m at an art festival. Ryker is here. So don’t be surprised if your spies tell you that.

  I started to pocket my phone since I didn’t expect to get a response, but it pinged right away.

  Father: Thanks for the heads up. Tell the quarterback to keep winning games.

  Me: Are you warming up to him?

  Father: No. I just want to make sure the money I donate sees a return.

  Unbelievable.

  My phone pinged again.

  Father: Haven, remember our deal.

  I was tempted to send the middle finger emoji, but instead, I slipped my phone in my purse.

  Bastard.

  As I headed in, Zack came out of nowhere and grabbed the handle. Opening the door, he waved me in. “After you, my lady.”

  The little girl inside me blushed. Zack was a handsome boy with a chiseled jaw and eyes the color of dark chocolate.

  Silence followed us toward the library for a beat.

  “Were you dating Leigh long?” I asked, turning a corner.

  “Since the end of our sophomore year. Are you dating her brother? I saw you get out of the car with him.”

  I giggled as though I were back in high school. On top of that, all those butterfly feelings I hardly experienced swarmed my belly. “Nah. Just friends.”

  “No offense,” Zack said, “but Ryker doesn’t do girls as friends.”

  “Maybe he’s turning over a new leaf.” I liked the idea of being friends with Ryker, although I wasn’t sure how long our friendship would last considering I wanted to jump his bones. Friends with benefits could work.

  Zack opened another door for me. “Leigh would like that.”

  I would too, but thoughts of friends and girlfriends faded as we walked into the library, which was filled with a hum of chatter. Zack went over to a young lady whom I remembered from the funeral service. I believed her name was Jessica if I weren’t mistaken. She was tall, curvy, and had long, wavy brown hair and big dark eyes.

  I scanned the room, looking for my new friend when Mr. Bridges came up to me. “Haven? What are you doing here?” His baldhead was shiny as ever.

  Here we go. I was glad I’d given my father a heads-up. “To support a friend.”

  “You mean Ryker,” he said.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Yes.” I had no reason to lie.

  “Does your dad know?” he asked.

  I glared at the nice man. “So you know why my father hates him.” It wasn’t a question because the resolve in his eyes told me he knew exactly why my father didn’t want me with Ryker.

  “You may not believe this, but your father wants the best for you.”

  A not-so-nice laugh erupted from me. “My father wants what’s best for him.”

  “Believe what you will.” Mr. Bridges started to leave.

  I caught his arm. “Wait. So my father really thinks that Ryker is no good for me because… what? He sleeps around?”

  “Your father thinks you can do better.” Then he melted into the crowd.

  Unbelievable.

  Not once in my memory had my father talked to me about boys, men, dating, or anything having to do with love. I’d learned about the birds and the bees at boarding school and in sex education classes. I shouldn’t have been shocked, though. My father hadn’t told me he loved since way before my mom died.

  I shoved Mr. Bridges’s words into an imaginary drawer for the moment. I’d almost told Mr. Bridges that my father had nothing to worry about. But maybe my father had a keen sense of what type of men I liked. If I compared my father to Ryker, they had a lot of similarities. They were both powerful in the sense that they could command a room. They were confident, handsome, and strong-willed, although the one difference was compassion. Ryker had that. My father didn’t, or if he did, I hadn’t seen that side of him since my mom was alive.

  Ryker was talking to Principal Holland near where the artwork was displayed. Groups of parents, teachers, and kids were scattered around. Some were talking while some were sipping drinks out of red cups.

  As soon as I joined Ryker, he draped an arm around me like we were going steady.

  A butterfly flapped its wings inside my stomach.

  Principal Holland’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Glad you could join us, Ms. Hale.”

  “I’m here for a friend.” I leaned into the hunky quarterback.

  “Good talking to you, Ryker. I’ll be sure to call you when we’re ready to take down the display.” Then the principal moved on to mingle with other families.

  “I thought you ditched me,” Ryker teased. “It must’ve been a long text.”

  I was about to relay my father’s message when my jaw went slack.

  Ryker tensed, or more like dug his fingers into my arm.

  Beverly Sims smiled as though she’d just found the Holy Grail. “I knew I would see Ryker here, but not you.” She said the word you like it was a swear word.

  Confusion clouded my brain as to why she was at a high school art festival until a middle-aged woman glided up, dressed in a flower-patterned sundress. My jaw bounced off the floor.

  The beautiful blond woman had the same genes as Beverly, the same blue eyes, and the same seemingly fake smile plastered on her face. “You must be Ryker.
I’ve heard all about your sister’s talent. I’m Lorna Sims, the guidance counselor here.” Then she swung her attention to me. “Haven, right? Beverly told me about you.”

  I doubted that. But I knew someone who had probably filled her in about me.

  “Are you new here?” Ryker asked. He hadn’t let go of me, although he’d lost some of his tension. He’d probably thought Beverly was following us until her mother showed up.

  As for me, my muscles were strung so tight that if they snapped, they would fly around the room and sting someone.

  “I started at the end of last year,” Lorna said.

  I wanted to ask where her other daughter was, but my tongue had gone to sleep while my mind scattered, wondering if Lorna Sims knew I’d seen her and my father together… or more like I’d seen my father’s lips stuck to her neck and his body pressed to hers when I’d walked into the kitchen.

  I had to hand it to my father. He had balls if he would corner a woman in our house while his wife entertained dinner guests. I couldn’t say for sure if my father had screwed Lorna, but I would bet my trust fund and more that he had.

  The Sims sisters were out to snag a rich man. I imagined their mom wasn’t any different.

  “Mom, we should mingle,” Beverly said.

  Lorna fixated on me. “Are you two dating?”

  “We are,” I said as my tongue suddenly woke up.

  Ryker’s chuckle was a little ragged.

  Beverly gasped and narrowed her eyes at Ryker. “Since when do you date?” Her tone was mean and dirty.

  Ryker clutched me to him like I was his lifeline. Little did he know he was mine, because he was holding me upright. I was a second away from freaking the heck out. But one thing came into focus—Beverly and Tabitha were the moles that my father had hired. I would bet everything I had on that fact.

  As polite as he could muster, Ryker said, “It was nice to meet you, Ms. Sims.” He ignored Beverly. Then he guided me over to his sister’s painting.

  I stumbled as I gave the Sims family one last look. Beverly’s features were tight and red, and her nostrils flared. I wanted to jump up and down for joy that I’d driven a proverbial knife into her chest.

  My happiness died a quick death when I thought of my father. Sure, I knew he had hired someone to watch me. I’d also suspected Beverly or Tabitha of being the spy. Yet confirming that fact made me want to scream. I now wondered if my father wanted me to stay away from Ryker because of the Sims sisters. Maybe he wanted to make sure he kept them happy and not me.

  Ryker’s breath fanned my earlobe. “That was weird.”

  Not weird but unbelievable.

  “Don’t let go of me.”

  “I got you, dollface.”

  Normally, I didn’t like that nickname. But now that we were friends, “dollface” wasn’t so bad, only because “I got you” held more weight and substance than “dollface.”

  I sighed as Ryker’s aftershave wafted around me. It smelled like a cool spring day, and it helped mask the anger that had taken up a home inside me.

  “This is Leigh’s,” he said softly.

  I zeroed in on a picture of him, a perfect canvas of Ryker James in a football jersey that had Woodcreek stitched on the front. The detail had been done to perfection, right down to the angle of his jaw. I swallowed hard at how Leigh had captured the happiness in his gray eyes and the cockiness in his expression.

  “You seem happy in that painting,” I said, holding back a burst of tears for some stupid reason.

  Memories of my childhood flooded my brain. I swallowed the sob that was lodged in my throat as I thought of the day my mom had pushed me on a swing at the park.

  “Higher,” I’d said.

  “Baby girl, I don’t want you to fall.”

  “Please, Mom,” I cried. “Higher.”

  When she did, I felt like a bird with wings, flying through the air toward the bright-blue sky. I swore that day that I would touch the sky or at least try. I never did, but Mom and I had had a great time and many more in the park after that day.

  I shook my head hard, trying to rid myself of the past and the anger I had in the pit of my stomach at my father, and to a certain extent at the world, for taking my mom away from me.

  “High school was a great time.” Ryker’s voice was soothing and tickled spots inside me. “Want to make some memories of our own?”

  I quivered and smiled. “Lead the way.”

  He closed his hand over mine, and whatever memory he wanted to make, I wouldn’t protest.

  25

  Ryker

  Haven was a zombie from the high school to my parents’ house. I’d asked her once on the way if she was okay, and she’d nodded and stared out the window the whole time. I suspected that the interaction between her and Beverly was what had Haven in a shell.

  I found it odd that everywhere I turned, Beverly was lurking somewhere nearby or in my face—parties, my bedroom, the charity event, and now the art festival. But my brain wasn’t interested in deciphering the reasons why.

  What I wanted at the moment was to sit my ass on the couch, drink a beer, and maybe get naked with the redhead who was nuzzling her way into my heart—the same woman who had a way of easing my pain.

  Stale air choked me as I walked deeper into the house and over to the sliding glass door. The house had been vacant since Aunt Kari returned to England.

  Haven kicked off her sandals before sinking her feet into the carpet in the family room.

  After opening the slider, I grabbed two beers out of the fridge. Then I wound my way around the kitchen island and a recliner in the family room until I was handing her a beer.

  Grabbing the bottle, she pointed to a picture of my brother and me. We were holding up a fish he’d caught at one of our fishing expeditions. “Nice catch.”

  Randal had been so excited that day when he’d caught his first bass.

  I tapped my bottle against hers. “Cheers.”

  She chugged the amber liquid down like she was in some sort of contest.

  I watched in awe at the way her throat worked and her beautiful features relaxed. I knew that feeling of how booze could seep into the veins and punch the shit out of the cloying feelings that poisoned me.

  “Whoa,” I said. “Slow down.”

  She drained the entire bottle then licked her lips. “I needed that.”

  I took a long pull of my beer. “Care to tell me what’s bothering you?”

  She plucked my bottle from my hand then set both down on the coffee table. “No talking.” She proceeded to unbutton my shirt, sucking in her bottom lip.

  My cock jerked. Hell, I had a permanent hard-on when I was around this woman.

  When my shirt was open, showing off my abs and that happy trail that women went gaga over, she dragged a long nail down my stomach to the waist of my jeans.

  The vision of her mouth around my dick flashed like a neon sign in the frontal lobe of my brain. Blood rushed down in a frenzy to grip my balls. I swore, if she breathed on my dick, I would lose my load in one second flat.

  Her small hand flew past my belt and cupped my cock.

  I closed my eyes, moaning while I shoved my hands through her thick auburn hair. Then I wrapped it around my hand and tugged her head back gently.

  I rained kisses down on her neck as her expert fingers massaged my cock through my jeans, and I saw stars.

  “I’ve been dying to taste you again,” she whispered in a breathy tone.

  A girl who loved blow jobs only made me harder.

  A phone buzzed.

  Fuck me.

  She proceeded to unbuckle my belt, ignoring the pesky sound.

  I knew it wasn’t my phone because I wasn’t a fan of Johnny Cash. His song “Walk the Line” continued to play.

  The phone stopped ringing then started again.

  “Someone is trying to get ahold of you.”

  She fumbled with my zipper. “Not interested in answering right now.”

&nb
sp; I chuckled. “Let me.”

  The ringing stopped then started once again.

  “Answer the phone,” I said in exasperation. I mean, fuck. I couldn’t concentrate. I hated distractions when my dick was begging for attention.

  She huffed, stomping over to her purse, then plucked the phone out, flaring her nostrils.

  My guess was that it was her old man. No one else could get her amped up to the point where she looked like she wanted to throw the phone against the wall. Or maybe she had a boyfriend I didn’t know about. If that were the case, then the night was over. I didn’t screw other guys’ girls.

  She typed frantically then shut off the phone before dumping it back into her purse. “Where were we?”

  Well, my dick wasn’t as hard anymore. Of course, it would only take a little stroking, but the anger on her face wasn’t turning me on.

  I buckled my belt. “What’s going on? Is it Beverly? Your old man? A boyfriend?”

  I was an idiot for not continuing where we’d left off or letting her take me to the one place I’d been dying to go—inside her.

  “You said you wanted to make memories.” Her voice cracked like an egg. “You bragged you wanted to fuck me. So here’s your chance.” Her attitude was rude, maddening, and irritating.

  It was a huge turn-off even though she reminded me of myself.

  I laughed.

  That only made her snarl. “Something funny?”

  I rubbed a thumb over my lip. “You and me. We’re a lot alike.”

  “We’re not. I’m fire. You’re ice.”

  I raked my gaze over her sleeveless brown dress that fell to mid-thigh. It accentuated her fine curves and toned body. She sure was fire—hell fire, to be exact. While I was ready to get burned, scorched, and torched, I wanted Haven’s mind and body fully on us. Her old man, if that was the reason she was pissed, didn’t have a place here.

  I clasped her delicate chin with my finger and thumb. “Look at me.”

  Slowly, her eyes lifted—dark-green orbs with shimmering flecks of gold.

  Follow the yellow brick road.

  My pulse thrashed around like the wild night I envisioned of her and me in my bed. “You’re killing me. But before we make music together, I want to be sure your brain is clear. I don’t do half-assed in the bedroom. I want all of you, Haven.” I dragged my fingers along her cheek, up to her temple. “Including your attention. Now tell me what’s going on.”