Now the snickers are directed at Declan, which he’s not such a fan of.
“What the . . . ?” He gives me an openmouthed stare.
“Careful, or you’ll have two papers to write.”
He clamps his mouth shut. In the eight years I’ve been teaching, I’ve often had to assign the profanity paper to one student, early in the school year. I’ve never had to assign a second one, though.
The bell rings, and my class clears out. Declan keeps his head down, not even trying to give me a dirty look. Between my job as my high school’s football coach and the tattoos visible on one of my arms when I’m wearing a short-sleeved shirt, most smartass boys don’t run their mouths to me. And if they do, they usually regret it.
I don’t have a bad temper. It’s the opposite, actually. I’m unfazed by dumb adolescent behavior, but I do call it out and enforce repercussions. Teaching and coaching are very similar—it’s all about action and consequences. My boys know if I tell them we’re conditioning, it’s gonna be a long, hard session, but I’ll be right in there beside them.
Coaching football is the only reason I still have abs. The rest of my body is in peak physical shape too. If Sienna wanted to be with a guy based on looks, I’d have a damn good shot. But she’s a smart, amazing woman who wants it all. And she can’t have it all with a man she thinks of as a brother.
I wouldn’t give up my past with Sienna for anything, even though it means I can’t have the future I want with her. Any other man she’s with will never know her the way I do.
I was there when she pulled out a loose tooth during a neighborhood baseball game, stuck it in her pocket right there in the batter’s circle, and continued with her at-bat. She hit a single, too.
When her grandma passed away, I sat next to her at the funeral, sweaty and awkward in a suit my mom made me wear, and she leaned her head on my shoulder for a few seconds as she cried. At the time, I was silently put off by my best buddy’s younger sister leaning against me with a runny nose and tearstained cheeks, but now . . . I’d give anything to be her comfort.
The next time I saw her crying, I wasn’t disgusted—I was pissed. Coop and I were sixteen then, and we were playing football in his front yard when Sienna came running down the sidewalk and up the driveway, sobbing. She was crying so hard she was hiccupping, but Coop finally got out of her that a boy from her class had asked her to be his girlfriend, taken her behind the school to mess around with her—which included putting his dirty little hands up her shirt—and then promptly dumped her when she told him to stop. Coop and I paid a visit to that twelve-year-old piece of shit and helped him see the error of his ways.
Protecting her has been second nature to me for a long time, but a decade ago, it stopped being brotherly for me. I’d walk through fire for Sienna because I’m deeply, irrationally in love with her.
My days of fantasizing about her over dinner at her parents’ house are long gone, though. Things will be awkward as fuck from here on out, all because of my stupid idea to get closer to her as RoughRider.
I’m still ignoring Coop. He’s been messaging me constantly, though he seems to have cooled off a bit. There’s no way I’m dealing with his bullshit anytime soon. Sienna rejected me, which hurt like hell even though it’s what I expected. I’m not apologizing to Coop for loving Sienna. It’s outside my control, and I’d die before I hurt her.
My last hour of the day is my planning period, so I sit down at my desk and force myself to focus on grading papers. I’m almost halfway through the stack when my Foxy app dings with a new message.
My heart stalls for a couple seconds. The only person I use that app to message with is Sienna. I grab the phone and read the lines on the screen.
SIENNAM: Ryan, are you there?
ROUGHRIDER16: Yeah, I’m here. Hi.
SIENNAM: Hi. Is this a good time?
ROUGHRIDER16: Yeah. How are you?
SIENNAM: I’m good. You?
ROUGHRIDER16: I’m okay.
SIENNAM: Was that enough small talk?
ROUGHRIDER16: More than enough for me. How are you, really?
SIENNAM: That makes me think of you asking me, ‘Who are you, really?’ But you already knew, didn’t you? You’ve known me almost my entire life.
ROUGHRIDER16: No, I didn’t know you the way I wanted to.
SIENNAM: Do you know me better now?
ROUGHRIDER16: Better than I did, but not as well as I’d like.
SIENNAM: It’s taken me a few days to let things sink in. I was so shocked, Ryan. In some ways, I still am.
ROUGHRIDER16: You were never supposed to know. When you said ’911,’ though, all I could think about was getting to you to make sure you were okay.
SIENNAM: That seems a little cruel to me. Professing these feelings for me as RoughRider, making me have feelings back, and you never planned to reveal yourself?
ROUGHRIDER16: You had feelings back?
SIENNAM: Couldn’t you tell?
ROUGHRIDER16: No . . . sorry.
SIENNAM: It feels like you were leading me on.
ROUGHRIDER16: That was never my intent.
SIENNAM: What was your intent?
ROUGHRIDER16: To see a side of you I didn’t think I’d ever get to see.
SIENNAM: You’re Coop’s best friend, and my friend too. I care for you and would never want to hurt you. I hope you know that.
ROUGHRIDER16: You don’t need to do this. I got the message—you’re not interested in me.
SIENNAM: I just can’t see Ryan Lennox and RoughRider as one and the same. I can’t even wrap my mind around you being interested in me. I’m just Coop’s lost puppy dog little sister. You can get any woman you want.
ROUGHRIDER16: I want you.
SIENNAM: I’m moody and impatient.
ROUGHRIDER16: You’re determined. That’s a good thing.
SIENNAM: I’m independent and terrible at relationships.
ROUGHRIDER16: I know who you are, Sienna. I love your independence. And you’re terrible at relationships because you choose losers who don’t treat you right.
SIENNAM: How would you know?
ROUGHRIDER16: Coop. For years, I’ve gritted my teeth as he told me about the latest douchebag to hurt you.
ROUGHRIDER 16: Still there?
SIENNAM: I’m here. I just don’t know what to say.
ROUGHRIDER16: You don’t have to say anything. You don’t owe me anything. I just hope you know how sorry I am. I’d never hurt you. What I did was selfish.
SIENNAM:You don’t need to be sorry. I’m sorry, though. It’s not you.
ROUGHRIDER16: You’re killin’ me, Pup . . .
SIENNAM: I’m sorry.
ROUGHRIDER16: Stop saying that. :/
SIENNAM: Okay, new subject . . . You’re a history teacher, aren’t you?
ROUGHRIDER16: Yep.
SIENNAM: So what was the Bob and John promotion thing about? You don’t have any employees, do you?
ROUGHRIDER16: It was about two players on my football team. I took your advice, btw, and “John” is killing it as a starter.
SIENNAM: Not his real name?
ROUGHRIDER16: No. His name is Brendan.
ROUGHRIDER16: Hey, that psycho who pulled a gun on you—is she in jail?
SIENNAM: Yes. She hasn’t been able to make bail.
ROUGHRIDER16: Good. What will do you if she does get out?
SIENNAM: I don’t know. I should have a security system installed at my house, I suppose.
ROUGHRIDER16: You should. What kind of locks do you have on your doors?
SIENNAM: There’s lock on the door handle and a chain on both doors. We always lock them.
ROUGHRIDER16: You need deadbolts.
SIENNAM: Good idea. I’ll ask the security company to install them.
ROUGHRIDER16: I’ll do it. I can come by tonight after practice.
ROUGHRIDER16: It’s not a backward effort to see you. I’m genuinely concerned.
SIENNAM: If you’re a
ble to do it, I’d appreciate it. I know you’re concerned. Thanks.
ROUGHRIDER16: If you want shooting lessons, I can teach you. I have a handgun you can borrow.
SIENNAM: OMG no. I don’t want a gun in my house. I’d never be comfortable shooting one.
ROUGHRIDER16: You’d get comfortable if that maniac client broke in to your house . . .
SIENNAM: I’ll think about it.
ROUGHRIDER16: No, you won’t. I know you, remember?
SIENNAM: You’re right, I won’t . . .
ROUGHRIDER16: Be careful, okay? You’ve seen what this lady’s capable of.
SIENNAM: I will. Promise.
ROUGHRIDER16: I’ll install a camera at your front door too, so you can see who’s there before opening it.
SIENNAM: You know how to do that?
ROUGHRIDER16: It’s not hard.
SIENNAM: Let me know what I owe you for the supplies.
ROUGHRIDER16: Nothing. I just want you to be safe.
SIENNAM: Promise me we won’t let it be awkward between us now.
ROUGHRIDER16: Promise.
SIENNAM: Okay. See you tonight?
ROUGHRIDER16: See you then.
#likelukeandleia
WHEN I OPEN my front door and see Ryan standing there in black shorts, a gray “Oakhurst Football” T-shirt spanning his broad chest, his dark hair damp from a shower, it’s definitely awkward.
In a way, it’s like I’m seeing him for the first time. The tattoos he’s had on one arm since right after he finished college seem different somehow. The dark stubble on his face doesn’t make me react the same way as it would on my brother’s face this time. My insides are a melted mess, and the intense look he’s giving me only makes it worse.
“Can I come in, Pup?”
I force my mouth to close and give him a smile. “Yeah . . . sorry.”
He walks in and sets his toolbox next to my door, looking at the doorframe in silent, Ryan-like fashion. He’s always been the sort who doesn’t talk just to fill space. If Ryan speaks, it’s because he has something important to say.
But RoughRider liked to chat, even about small, insignificant stuff. It strikes me yet again how different the two personas seem. Maybe I don’t really know either of them. Or maybe I have to know both to know the whole man.
Do I want to know the whole man, though? Really know him, inside and out? What turns him on and sets him off? Before meeting RoughRider, I would have said no. But now . . . I’m not sure.
I sit down on the couch and grab a magazine, not really reading it but wanting to look busy. This is beyond awkward for me. I’m picturing Ryan sitting in his bed as I sat in mine, messaging me about the dirty things he wants to do to me.
I’d kiss you until your lips were tingling and your chest was rising and falling as you panted my name.
I know of some great ways to work out stress before bed.
You’d clench around me really tight and I’d feel you start to spasm.
My cheeks burn with embarrassment at the memories. At least, I think it’s embarrassment.
It’s at least forty percent embarrassment. And I’m not ready to admit the other sixty percent of the reason I’m warm right now.
This is Ryan Lennox. Coop’s best friend. I was arriving home with my mom when she busted the two of them sneaking girls out of our basement when they were sophomores in high school. They both had messed-up hair and nervous smiles, the smells of Axe body spray and guilt rolling off of them.
Ryan witnessed my humiliation when I tried to leave the house in sixth grade wearing a white T-shirt and a black bra. He and Coop had snickered when my mom insisted I change into the training bra she’d gotten me.
I hated that term then, and I hate it still. What sort of training do breasts need, anyway? I’m pretty sure my disdain for the term stems from that day my mom threw it around in front of my older brother and his friend with no regard for my pubescent embarrassment.
“Why are you reading my Junior Woodsman magazine?” Jack demands, entering the living room with a skeptical look my way.
“I . . . uh . . .” I glance down at the magazine I absently grabbed and sigh through my nose. “I like foxes. I thought this article sounded good.”
I chance a glance at Ryan and swear I see a hint of a smile tugging on the corners of his lips.
“Who’s he?” Jack frowns in Ryan’s direction.
I stand up and put the magazine back on the table. “Have you guys never met?”
Ryan looks up from his toolbox. “We met at your parents’ house one year at Christmas, but Jack was just a little guy then.” He stands up and extends a hand to Jack. “You probably don’t remember me. I’m Ryan.”
“Hi,” Jack says solemnly, putting his hand in Ryan’s.
Ryan smiles down at him. “Not bad, but try again and grip my hand tighter this time. Like this.”
They shake hands again, and then Jack furrows his brow and squeezes Ryan’s hand in a tighter grip.
“Nice.” Ryan gives him an approving smile. “That’s a man’s handshake right there.”
Jack’s expression lights up. “What are you doing to the door?”
“I’m gonna put in some deadbolt locks. I have to drill into the frame and the door.”
Jack nods his approval. “I know how to use a hammer if you need help.”
“Yeah? I could use some help, actually.”
Ryan explains every tool to Jack and shows him how to use each one. He corrects him gently and praises him liberally. Jack has trouble grasping the small pieces Ryan passes him, and he drops them often. He can’t help it—the loss of motor skills is part of the disease that’s going to take him from us one day. But Ryan takes it in stride, telling Jack it’s okay every time he gets frustrated because he let something else fall to the floor.
Carmen is leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen, watching them, tears shining in her eyes. I hope they’re happy tears over Jack’s excitement, but I know how hard it is for her to watch his disease slowly steal away his ability to do things.
Jack doesn’t remember his dad, and he doesn’t have many male role models. Carmen has told me before that he asks her why his dad isn’t around, and it breaks her heart every time. No matter how many times she tells him it’s not his fault, he doesn’t seem to buy it.
“If he loves me, why doesn’t he want to see me?”
When Carmen told me Jack said that to her one night as she was tucking him in for bed, she cried and then I did too. She’s an amazing mother to Jack, but she can’t be a father to him too, no matter how much she tries.
She considered telling him his dad passed away, so at least Jack wouldn’t know his dad is alive and well but doesn’t care about seeing him, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie to him.
It takes Ryan at least twice as long to install the front door deadbolt with Jack’s help than it would have taken alone. Carmen starts dinner as they move on to the back door, and I pace around the living room by myself.
RoughRider is in my house right now. Specifically, he’s in my kitchen, teaching Jack how to use a drill. I don’t know if that’s crazier than the fact that he’s actually Ryan. It all seems kind of crazy right now.
Ryan is a good man. He’s patient but firm, and he was made to be a teacher and a coach. I’ve always known that side of him. He played football in high school and college, and he never messed around with any behaviors that could get him kicked out of the sport he loves. He’s like a brother to Coop—always there, for fun times and tough ones.
I never thought I’d know this other side of Ryan. His RoughRider side is brooding yet sweet, impatient at times yet . . . willing to go without women if he can’t have the one he wants. And I still can’t believe that’s me.
I didn’t think about who I really am until Ryan asked me as RoughRider. I’m realizing I also never thought about what I really want in a man before him. I spent so much time focusing on what I didn’t want and founding Alpha Mail based
on those things, that what I do want didn’t seem important.
Realizing what I don’t want in a man and opening a business because of it changed my life. But pacing in my living room, I consider for the first time that getting in touch with what I do want in a man could change my life even more.
I stop walking and take a deep breath, then walk into the kitchen, talking before Ryan even has a chance to realize I’m there.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why did you keep this to yourself for . . . a decade?”
He looks up from his crouched position next to the doorframe. “You want to talk about this now?”
His tone is surprised, but level. That’s Ryan. Always calm, cool, and collected, even when I’m feeling a little unhinged.
“Why not?” I throw my hands in the air.
The hint of a smile comes back as he takes a part to the deadbolt that Jack was holding for him.
“I didn’t tell you because I knew you didn’t feel that way for me.” Ryan looks at the piece he’s drilling rather than at me, the patience in his tone grating on my nerves.
“How did you know that? Why did you think you were better at knowing how I feel than I am?”
“I was right, wasn’t I?”
“Well . . .” I fold my arms and consider. “Now that we’re twenty-eight and thirty-two, yeah, but . . . maybe if you had said something back then . . .”
“I didn’t know for sure what I was feeling. I wasn’t sure if it was just attraction or . . . love.”
Jack inhales sharply. “Love? You love her?”
Ryan nods. “I do.”
“You guys are like Princess Leia and Han Solo.” Jack looks back and forth between us and grins.
“For her, it’s more like Leia and Luke Skywalker,” Ryan says.
Jack gives me a dirty look. “What?”
I throw my hands up in frustration. “I don’t even know what that means!”
“He’s not your brother.” Jack shakes his head and then turns to Ryan. “Are you?”
“No,” Ryan says it emphatically. “I’m definitely not.”
Carmen intervenes. “Jack, let’s run to the store and pick up some ice cream.”
Alpha Mail Page 12
