by K. Street
A series of knocks thundered against the wood. Suddenly, all the barking made sense.
“Honey, we’re home,” Carter bellowed.
“One sec.” I shoved off the couch and answered the door.
“Ryder!” Zeke hugged my legs. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too, kid. Why don’t you go put your stuff in your room?”
“Okay. Thanks for taking me to the hockey place, Carter.”
Carter ruffled my brother’s hair. “Anytime, little man.”
Once Zeke was out of earshot, Carter lifted his brow and inspected my appearance. “Dude, you look like shit.”
“Seems fitting.”
Yesterday, after I had left Presley standing in the parking lot, I had come home to get Turtle, and then the two of us had gone to my shop. It was the one place that offered the solace I desperately needed. I buried myself in work and ended up crashing in my office for a few hours before going balls to the wall for several more hours. By the time I’d made it home this afternoon, it had been after three.
“You and Princess Pea have a fight or something?”
“You could say that.”
“What happened?”
I sat on the sofa and gave Carter the short version.
“Damn. Her parents sound like they’re a piece of work. Have you heard from her?”
“She texted. I haven’t bothered reading them.”
“Maybe you should.” He squinted at the pizza sauce on my shirt. “You also might want to take a shower and change clothes. You stink, dude.”
“As far as best friends go, you kind of suck.”
“You should appreciate my honesty. I’m going to head out. Save myself from the stench. Call me if you want to talk things through.”
“Thanks. And thanks for taking Zeke with you.”
“No thanks necessary, man. You know we love having him around.” He strode to the door, pulled it open, and then halted, looking at me over his shoulder. “Lately, you’ve been happier than I’ve ever seen you. Zeke adores Presley, and you’re in love with her. You might want to remember that before you throw it away.” With that, he left.
As if on cue, my phone vibrated from where it rested on the coffee table. Then, it rang. Presley’s face lit the screen. Instead of her pretty face and sparkling dark-ale eyes, I only saw betrayal.
The walls closed in around me. I had to get out of here.
I got off the couch and went to Zeke’s room. He was sitting on the floor next to where Turtle was lying, scratching the dog’s belly.
“Hey, bud, want to go to the park and shoot some hoops?”
“Okay. Can I have a snack first?”
“Why don’t you grab a banana off the counter? I’m going to take a quick shower.”
“Can Presley come shoot the hoops?”
The innocent question bit into my flesh.
“Nah. Not this time.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s busy,” I said more harshly than I’d meant to.
“Oh.”
Shit.
Now, his feelings were hurt.
“We can get burgers and fries for dinner.”
He eyed me, obviously suspicious. “You are not gonna trick me again. I want the yummy ones. Not the bikini kind or the green sticks with the funny tip.”
“You mean, zucchini and asparagus?”
“Yep. Bikinis and a-spear-of-ass are gross.” He stuck out his tongue.
I chuckled. “You’re hilarious, you know that?”
“It’s a gift.”
“Real fries. I promise.” I knelt and then opened my arms.
It was all the invitation my little brother needed.
Zeke threw his arms around my neck and squeezed. “You are the bestest big brother in the world.”
“And you are the best little brother.”
“I love you,” Zeke declared.
“Love you bigger.”
“Ryder?”
“Yeah, bud?”
“You really need a shower.”
Later, after Zeke had gone to bed, I scrolled through my text messages.
Presley: I’m so sorry.
Presley: Please talk to me.
Presley: I know I messed up.
Presley: I’ll make it right.
Presley: I love you.
She had messed up. If you loved someone, you didn’t sit idly by and allow another person to shred them regardless of who that person was. Her parents were toxic. If Presley and I got married someday, those people would be a part of Zeke’s life by default.
I ran the gamut of emotions while I stared at my bedroom ceiling, surrounded by her scent. I loved her. Being pissed and hurt didn’t negate that love. When we’d first started this thing, I’d told her it wasn’t just the two of us. Zeke would always be my top priority—at least for the next several years. She’d said she understood. Ultimately, I had to do what was best for him. Right now, that meant I needed to take a step back.
I read over the text messages one more time, and then I pressed the phone icon next to her name and waited for the phone to ring.
“Ryder?” Her rough, raspy voice filled my ear.
“Hey, Pres. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s fine. I’m glad you called.”
“Are you okay?” I already knew the answer, but I asked it anyway.
“No, not really. What about you?”
“I’ve been better.”
“I’m so sorry, Ryder.”
The emotion in her voice made my chest tight.
“I don’t know how to say this other than to just come out and say it … I need to take a step back.”
“Oh.”
She was quiet for so long that I pulled the phone from my ear to see if she was still there.
“Presley?”
“I’m here.” She sniffed. “A step back … what does that mean exactly?”
“Your family dynamic is quite different from mine. If Zeke had been there … if he had heard your mother say those things …” I trailed off. The thought made me sick. “Aside from Mimi, that kid is my entire world. If you’re going to be part of that, I have to trust that you will have my back, and right now, that isn’t the case. I’m not asking you to choose between me and your parents. For now, I’m simply removing myself from the equation. We both need a little time.”
“I understand.”
“It’s going to be okay, Pres.”
“I hope so.”
I didn’t have to see her face to know tears were streaming down her cheeks.
“Take care of yourself.” I pulled the phone away from my ear but stopped when she said my name.
“Ryder?”
“I’m here, sweetheart.” The endearment rolled off my tongue.
“I’m going to fight for us.”
“You can’t fight for us until you figure out how to fight for yourself.”
“I know. Just don’t give up on me.”
“Never.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Pres. Always.” I disconnected the call. Then, I stared at the phone until the screen went black.
Twenty-Nine
Presley
It had been three days since I’d last heard Ryder’s voice. Three days of going through the motions and pretending like I wasn’t dying inside. Three days of Zeke hugging my legs before he lined up with his class at the end of recess. Three days of overanalyzing everything I’d said and everything I wished I had.
Tomorrow, I would fight. I would call my parents, and we would have a rational conversation. As good as it’d felt to unleash on my mother, it hadn’t been the best way to handle the situation, no matter how much she deserved it. If we couldn’t figure out how to move forward, then we needed to move on—separately.
Tonight, I planned to curl up on the couch, watch mindless television, and eat peanut butter by the spoonful straight from the jar. That was, until I pulled into my driveway after work an
d saw my father leaning against his rental car, his hands in his pockets.
I grabbed my belongings, got out of my car, and then came to a stop in front of him.
“Dad, what are you doing here? I thought you had a conference.”
“I did. I had an early morning session. Can we talk?”
“Sure,” I agreed, leading the way.
I unlocked the front door and crossed the threshold. “Come on in. Though I guess you don’t really need an invitation, right? Since it’s technically your house.”
“Presley.” His tone didn’t have a hard edge. It held no warning. He looked exhausted and defeated.
I closed the door behind him.
“I’m sorry. That was childish and counterproductive. Please have a seat. I’m going to put this stuff down and change clothes. Give me five minutes.”
He simply nodded.
After I dropped the load in my arms onto my neatly made bed, I used the bathroom and then stripped out of my clothes. I put on a pair of capri yoga pants and a T-shirt. Then, I pulled in a few deep breaths and went to face the music.
My father stood right where I’d left him.
“Would you like something to drink?” I offered.
“No, thank you.”
I gestured to the couch. “Shall we?”
He sat on one corner, his feet flat on the floor, knees slightly angled toward me. I took a seat on the opposite end, curling my legs under me.
“I went to see your grandfather earlier.”
If there had been liquid in my mouth, I would have choked on it. “You went to see Papa B?”
“Don’t sound so shocked.”
“I am. You don’t exactly make time for him.”
“I know. But I’m going to change that.”
I bit the tip of my finger to keep from gasping.
“Presley, all the things you said the other day struck a chord. I don’t necessarily agree with how you went about it, but I heard you.”
I remained silent because I didn’t know what to say.
“I owed your grandfather an apology, and it was long overdue.”
“I’m glad you went to see him.”
“Me too. I lost sight of where I had come from.” He leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees. “Actually, I was ashamed of where I had come from.” He turned his head to the side, meeting my eyes. “Your mother and I gave you the best of everything. You went to the best schools. Wore designer clothes. You had everything a kid could possibly dream of, except for the one thing you needed most. And for that, I owe you an apology.”
I had never seen my father look so ashamed.
“I can’t remember the last time I told you I loved you. Or that I was proud of you.”
Tears burned my eyes.
He stood and extended his palm.
I stared at it for a few beats before placing my hand in his and allowing him to pull me to my feet.
“I love you, and I am so proud to have you as my daughter. I’m sorry for the times I should have told you and didn’t.”
He hauled me against his chest, and I sobbed in my dad’s arms while he whispered words of apology over and over again.
This moment wasn’t going to magically fix everything, but it was a start, and that was all any of us could really ask for.
Later that night, my father ordered dinner for the two of us. We sat on my living room floor, eating pizza straight from the cardboard box. He regaled me with stories from his childhood and his days as an intern. I told him how Timmy Johnson had shoved popcorn kernels in his nose during snack time.
“How did you get them out?” he asked.
“I was ready to send him to the school nurse, but then Carlos, another boy in my class, told Timmy he was going to die. Timmy freaked out and started hysterically crying. He kept repeating he didn’t want to die. He cried so much that his snot acted like lubricant, and the kernels slid right out.”
My dad chuckled. “Nice.”
“Of course, that led to a twenty-minute conversation about why we don’t stick things in our noses. Because kindergarteners.”
We finished our dinner, and when my dad got up to leave, I accompanied him to the door.
“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but believe it or not, your mother loves you in her own way.”
“Dad—”
“Look, I recognize we can’t fix this overnight. It’s going to take time. All I’m asking is that you give your mother a chance. It’s a big ask. She has a lot to make up for. We both do. We were surprised by Ryder’s circumstances, and your mom has dealt with some shady people in her line of work—”
“It still doesn’t excuse her behavior.”
“I realize that.”
“Ryder is a good man. His circumstances shouldn’t matter.”
“You’re right, honey. Just keep in mind, we were blindsided. We hadn’t even known you were dating anyone.”
I lifted my brows, and my lips set into a thin line. My expression said it better than I could.
“Point taken. Please think about what I said.”
“I’m not making any promises, but I will reach out. And I owe you an apology as well. I’m not sorry for the things that I said, but I am sorry about the delivery.”
“It was a long time coming, so the delivery was probably warranted.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “You and Ryder … how are things?”
I shrugged. “They’re not. We’re taking a break.”
“Because of what happened at breakfast?”
“I didn’t stand up for him or our relationship when it mattered, and I can’t blame him for pulling away.”
He drew me into a hug and kissed the top of my head. “Everything will work out. You’ll see.”
Thirty
Ryder
I raised the shield of my welding helmet and inspected my work, and then I set the piece I was working on to the side. I went over to the shelving unit that housed various parts, reached for the box I needed, and returned to my worktable.
Movement in my periphery caught my attention. A woman stood to the side of the open roll-up door, her face cast in shadow.
“When you said you were a metal artist, I assumed you meant giant lawn ornaments. Like the huge chickens and such you see at roadside stands.”
I didn’t need to see the face because I sure as hell remembered the voice.
“Mrs. Gallagher, is there something I can do for you? If you’re looking for Presley, she’s not here.”
“Actually, I came to speak with you. May I come in?”
“Suit yourself.”
Victoria Gallagher stepped out of the sun’s glare and into the warehouse. She looked out of place in her designer sunglasses, blazer, and black pencil skirt.
“This is incredible,” she stated, taking in my latest piece for the library project.
“Thank you.” I removed my helmet since the woman could not take a hint. “It was inspired by The Giving Tree.”
“How lovely.”
I doubted she had even read the book. If she had, she might have learned something from the tree.
“Mrs. Gallagher, not to be rude, but I need to get back to work.”
“Ryder, I owe you an apology. My behavior last Saturday was deplorable and completely unacceptable. I’m sorry, and I know that doesn’t mean a whole lot, coming from me. But for what it’s worth, I am sorry.”
Whatever I had been expecting to come out of her mouth, that wasn’t it.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is your problem? Because you know absolutely nothing about me. Everything you think you know, you’ve based on assumption. And with all due respect, it’s your daughter you should be apologizing to.”
“I intend to. I came here first. Presley has no idea I’m here in case you’re wondering. My husband said the two of you broke up.”
“I’m going to give it to you straight, Mrs. Gallagher—”
“Victoria. Please.”
“
All right. Victoria,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest, “I love your daughter with all that I am, but there’s more to our relationship than me and her. I have to consider what’s best for Zeke, and you can’t tell me breakfast would have gone any differently had he been there. I highly doubt the presence of a little boy would have made you hesitate to spew your vitriol in the slightest. I think you’re toxic, and how in the hell you and your husband raised a woman as incredible as your daughter is beyond my comprehension.”
“I guess I deserved that.” She glanced around. “To hear my daughter tell it, we didn’t raise her. Her revolving door of nannies did. She isn’t wrong. Presley has changed, and I think you are partly responsible for that. She stood up for herself for the first time in her life, and she stood up for you. Maybe she didn’t do it in the moment. Maybe you didn’t get to see it for yourself. But know this: my daughter loves you. Don’t punish her for my mistake. I am terribly sorry for the way I disrespected you, and I hope you’ll find it within yourself to accept my apology.”
With that, she turned to leave. As she neared the exit, she turned back and looked over her shoulder. “Ryder.”
“Yes?”
“Just so you know, Presley didn’t attend the gala last night.”
“I know.”
“Have you two spoken?”
“No. But I do know your daughter.”
She started walking again.
“Victoria?”
She pivoted on her heels. “Yes?”
“Just so you know …” I allowed the words to hang in the air. “I own my house outright. I have six figures in the bank. My portfolio is varied. Zeke really is my kid brother. And while I’ve made some questionable choices, I don’t have a criminal record. I know it took a lot for you to come here. You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who often falls on her sword. I appreciate the apology.”
I picked up my helmet and slipped it back on, ending our conversation.
Thirty-One
Presley
I opened my front door to find my mother on the other side, juggling a bakery box and two coffees.
