“Yup. Most challenges are,” Gavin said. “But I’m glad to hear you’re stronger. Coming back from that type of an experience can’t be easy. I’m—” he ran his hand over his short, trimmed beard, looking a tad self-conscious “—sorry you’ve gone through what you have. Wish you hadn’t.”
“Nothing for you to be sorry for, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
“We’re all sorry, Andi,” Haley said, her voice filled with compassion. “We were scared when we first heard the news reports. Mom couldn’t get a hold of your mom right away, so we didn’t know if you were working that day, if you were there. If you were all right.” She blinked, glanced down at her hands. “I stalked your Facebook page until we knew you were... Okay isn’t the right word. Safe, I guess. On your way to being okay.”
“She did,” Gavin confirmed. “I couldn’t drag her so much as an inch from her tablet. I worried, too, even though I didn’t know you. Haley loves you, that was all that mattered. I didn’t need to personally know you to hope you were okay.”
Tears gathered and burned but didn’t fall at these startling words from Haley and Gavin. Why startling? They shouldn’t be. She’d have felt the same, would’ve done the same, if the situations were reversed. Somehow, though, hearing of what had taken place here while she battled everything she had there just...stunned her. Reminded her of her value at a time she didn’t often feel so valuable. Hard to believe in yourself when so much of the person you used to be had seemingly vanished, seemingly never to return.
“Thank you,” she whispered. It was all the volume she could muster. “For telling me, for caring then and for caring now. It’s been tough, trying to put the pieces back together, but I think, slowly but surely, it’s starting to happen.”
“Good,” Gavin said. “From my view—for what that’s worth—you’ve made incredible strides. It’s impressive and you should be proud of yourself.”
“Ah. Well, I still have a ways to go.” Absently, Andi rubbed her denim-covered leg, thinking of the scars that she’d always have. Physically, emotionally. And wondering how many more miles she’d have to tread. “Quite a ways, actually. But yes, my leg is healing, growing stronger, every day. I’m beginning to think Ryan’s torture methods are paying off, and—”
“Torture methods?” Ryan’s voice slid over her like warm water as he stepped into view. “Really, Andi? I’m hurt, but I suppose if you think they’re paying off, you can call them whatever you like. Wish you’d chosen a different word than torture, though. Maybe something along the lines of, ‘Wow, Ryan’s methods are amazing! He’s a miracle worker!’”
Heat spread from Andi’s cheeks to her neck and then downward another several inches. “Miracle worker? You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said, deciding her best bet was to keep the joke going. “Torturous is the perfect description. Why, most days I feel lucky I don’t need a wheelchair to get to the car. Or a gurney. Or—”
“Why, darlin’, you don’t need a wheelchair or a gurney. I’m more than happy to pick you up and carry you to the car.” Ryan winked and, yep, there was that smile. God, she loved that smile. Even if she shouldn’t. “Just say the word.”
“Uh-huh, I’m sure that will happen soon.” This came from a new voice. A female voice that, once she slipped into place beside Ryan, Andi could see belonged to a lovely blonde cherub with huge blue eyes. “You men, always thinking we women want to be carted off somewhere. Trust me, we don’t! And hi, everyone. I’m Nicole, Ryan’s older and savvier sister.”
Ah. Sister. Andi wouldn’t have guessed siblings based on the wide disparity in their coloring—Ryan’s dark hair and eyes versus Nicole’s blond hair and blue eyes—but okay, now that she knew, there were similarities. Faint, but there. In the shape of their eyes, the cadence of their speech, maybe even in the way they held their bodies.
And, dang it all, a rush of relief that this sweet, fairly beautiful woman was Ryan’s sister and not his date or his girlfriend solidly hit Andi over the head. Silly, of course, but there it was. She didn’t bother denying the relief. There wasn’t any use in kidding herself.
“Hi, Nicole. I’m Andi, and this is—” Andi gestured to the other side of the table “—my cousin Haley and her husband, Gavin.” Should she invite Ryan and Nicole to join them? Probably. It would seem odd not to. “We’re taking a much-needed sustenance break after traipsing around for the past several hours. You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?”
“Oh, yes!” Haley said. “Please do.”
“We’d love to,” Nicole said. She nudged her brother. “Wouldn’t we, Ry-Ry?”
“Ry-Ry? Seriously?” A laugh escaped as Andi glanced from Nicole to Ryan. “I am so calling you that from now on. As often as I can get away with it. Because that’s a precious nickname and makes me think of a cuddly, purring kitten. Cuddly kittens can’t inflict torture!”
Ryan’s brow arched and he grimaced. “Great. Just what I want to be compared to. A vibrating mop of fur. But yes,” he said, “we’d love to join you. Thanks for the invite.”
Nicole set down her plate on one side of Andi, while Ryan took the other side, and for the next little while, everyone focused on their food. Well, Andi pretended to eat. Truth be told, she was finding it rather difficult to swallow, so after a few minuscule bites, she gave up. She hadn’t wanted to see Ryan earlier, but now that he sat next to her, she also couldn’t deny the warm glow that suddenly infused her heart. Hell. She wouldn’t be altogether surprised if her entire body radiated from it, for all the world to see.
For everyone at this table to see.
“You don’t really think of our sessions as torture, do you?” Ryan asked quietly from her left. “If so, that’s something I should know. Discomfort is one thing, but if you’re in serious pain, we should consider scaling back some.”
“I was joking.”
“Are you sure? Because, quite honestly, Andi, you’re looking more and more exhausted every time I see you. If it’s the—”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“Lack of sleep,” she said in a near whisper, surprising herself at the admittance. “Please don’t ask for details, as I won’t talk about the reasons why, but I’m not getting nearly enough sleep. You were right on that front, and it’s a problem I’m working on. I know I need to figure it out, Ryan. And I will. You don’t need to worry.”
Eyes narrowed in contemplation, Ryan nodded. “The only problem I have in everything you just said is the continuous use of the word ‘I.’ You’re not alone in this. If you let me in on what’s interrupting your ability to sleep, I might be able to help. We might be able to find a solution together. Because you’re right, this needs figuring out. Posthaste.”
“I don’t do ‘we’ that well.” And she didn’t. But the idea appealed. More than it should. “I do appreciate the offer, though, and I’ll keep it in mind. That is the best I can do right now.”
He didn’t say anything in response, just nodded and ate some of his lunch. He laughed when his sister showed off the caricature they’d had drawn for their mother’s birthday and answered a few general questions about his career, when Haley asked. And when he discovered that Gavin had also grown up in Denver, he asked a few questions of his own.
As the conversation around the table continued, Andi’s defenses relaxed and she added her opinion here, a laugh at a joke there and, for the most part, genuinely enjoyed herself. But she didn’t doubt that at some point, likely soon, Ryan would revisit the topic of “we,” and when he did, she’d have to remain strong. Outside of her physical rehabilitation, they were not a “we.”
Regardless of how appealing the concept, she wouldn’t take so much as one step down that path. Because if she did, she’d only be asking for heartache later. She needed to rely on herself, not on anyone else. Not even a man who made her feel alive, whose p
resence seemed to send her shadows scurrying for cover. Someday wasn’t today. She wasn’t ready for “we.”
Not even with a man like Ryan Bradshaw.
Chapter Five
Had he ever met such a stubborn woman? Well, yes. His mother and sister came to mind, but with them, Ryan could usually maneuver past whatever wall they’d built. Andi’s walls were thicker, denser and—at least from where he stood—immovable. Oh, he had every intention of gaining traction, of breaking that particular wall into smithereens so she’d open up about her sleep issues... He just had to decide how.
And if he couldn’t, then he’d find someone who could. It didn’t take a rocket scientist, a doctor or, hell, a physical therapist to see that Andrea couldn’t continue this way much longer. Up close, her dark circles were a blackish purple, her already pale skin almost had a translucent quality, and any amount of physical strain seemed to send a series of trembles through her body. He didn’t like to see her this way so, yeah, he was worried.
About Andrea Caputo, his client whose well-being was important to him for professional reasons, and about Andi, the woman he already cared for deeply, perhaps too deeply.
The fact she’d shared even as much as she had about her inability to sleep unequivocally showed that progress had been made. She’d opened up to him, hadn’t she? It did not matter how little information she’d chosen to share—she had shared. The next step was his. A step he planned on taking right this very instant.
Gavin, Haley and his sister had finished eating and, as a trio—with a little prodding from Ryan—had taken off to check out more of the festival, leaving him and Andi alone. She’d stated her plan to stick around, listen to the band and relax more before searching for the “perfect” mountain-scene painting, and when he said he’d do the same, help her find said painting when she was ready, he could see she wanted to argue. But she hadn’t.
So, here they were. Alone in a public, social setting instead of a professional one. Hell, yes, he was taking that next step before Haley, Gavin and Nicole decided to return.
“Come on,” he said to Andi as he stood and held his hand toward her. “It’s time.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Time for what, exactly?”
“Dancing,” he said. “Didn’t think I’d forgotten my promise, did you?”
“Oh.” With a vigorous head shake, she said, “I’m okay with you breaking that promise.”
“Now come on, Andi, that’s a slippery slope,” he teased. “Why, you let me break one promise, and soon enough, I’ll be breaking all of my promises. No one will trust me then. I’ll lose my family, friends and possibly even my career. I’ll end up destitute, living on the streets, wondering where it all went wrong. You can’t let that happen to me!”
“Exaggerate much?” A light, quirky grin appeared. “Besides which, your promise was about showing me your drunken-elephant-on-ice dance. I’m certainly not stopping you from that performance. In fact, I can’t wait to see it.”
“Ah, no. Your memory, darlin’, is failing you. I promised I would take you dancing, with the added bonus of witnessing my lack of skill on the dance floor.” He grinned. “I have a very clear recollection on the promise itself. You can’t talk your way out of this one, Andi.”
One blink. Two blinks. And then a sharp nod. “Okay. You win. But only for a single song, and then I’m done.” Insecurity, doubt, flooded her features. “If I even can dance, that is.”
“You definitely can. Let me show you.”
Still she hesitated, but not for long. A few seconds at most passed before that stubborn gleam hit her eyes, and she nodded again. Carefully, she pushed out of her chair and stood, reached for his hand and, ignoring her cane, allowed him to lead her to the center of the enclosed area. To the dance floor, where there were already several people dancing. “I’m nervous,” she admitted in a low, barely audible voice. “I don’t want to fall.”
“I won’t let you fall.” Whether it was fate or coincidence or something else entirely, he couldn’t say, but the band finished their upbeat song and moved onto a slower one, a song meant for couples. And finally, he pulled this woman he worried about, thought about, wondered about...dreamed of, into his arms. “Trust me on that, if nothing else. You will not fall with me.”
“Okay. I won’t fall,” she said, looking into his eyes. “Because you won’t let me.”
“That’s right.” It took all the strength he could muster not to make her other promises. Such as, she’d never have to fight any battle alone, ever again. That he’d fight right alongside her, offering her his strength, his support when she needed it. As a friend or maybe, someday, as more. Maybe. Hopefully. But hell, friendship was good. “Dance with me, beautiful.”
She rested her head against his shoulder, encircled his waist with her arms, and together they found the soft, sweet rhythm of the love song that was playing and they started to move. Her hair smelled like summer—coconuts and lime and flowers—and, Lord, her body fit well with his or, he supposed, his body fit well with hers. Either way, both ways, they just worked.
“Talk to me,” he said. “While we dance.”
“About what?”
“Anything. Your favorite movie, your best and worst childhood memory, if you ever played sports as a kid, what makes you laugh, what makes you sad or...maybe, you might be able to let me in on why you can’t sleep.” Talk to me, beautiful. I’m right here. “Anything at all.”
“I don’t have a favorite movie. I have many,” she said without missing a beat. “My best childhood memory is when I learned how to ride a horse. My dad taught me, and we had the greatest day. My worst? Hmm. I don’t know, really. My childhood was pretty great.”
So, Andi could ride a horse. Learning to do so was her favorite memory, even. This knowledge gave Ryan an idea. Not for now, but for some time in the coming weeks. He’d take her horseback riding, help her remember that day with her dad and show her how far she’d come, physically, since the shooting. “Thank you for sharing,” he said. “Keep going. Tell me more.”
He couldn’t see her face, but he’d bet money she’d just wrinkled her nose at his request. “No, to the sports question,” she said with an elongated sigh. She didn’t lift her head from his shoulder, though, and he interpreted that as a very good sign. “I wasn’t much into sports as a kid, other than riding horses and swimming. I read a lot of books, listened to a lot of music, spent hours on the phone with my friends. I was the average girl, doing the normal type of girl stuff.”
“Nothing about you is normal, Andrea. Or average,” he said quietly. “But don’t misunderstand those comments. I mean them in all the best ways. You’re warm and giving, sweet and—when the mood strikes—funny. You’re also intelligent, stronger than you think, very focused and...well, perhaps a mite too independent. I’m working on that, though.”
“I’ve always been that way,” she admitted. “It’s smarter to rely on your own capabilities than expect other people to save the day or pick up the slack or whatever. But thank you for seeing me as intelligent and giving and funny, and everything else you said.”
“You’re welcome. Now, about your sleep?”
“It’s... I haven’t told anyone, Ryan,” she said, lifting her head to look once again into his eyes. She hadn’t even told the therapist she saw for a few months, right after the shooting. “So please understand, my unwillingness to give detail isn’t restricted to you. Again, this is who I am. Given some more time, I’m sure to figure it out.”
The song ended, but there were a good number of couples on the dance floor, so the band wisely chose to play another slow melody. Thank God. Ryan wasn’t ready to stop holding Andi.
“How about we try it this way?” he asked, following his instincts. All of his instincts. “I’ll ask you a question, and you let me know if I’m right or wrong. If I’m right, I’ll as
k a few more questions. That way, you might not have to say much more than yes or no. Can we try that?”
He thought he’d pushed too hard, based on the tension that rolled through her body—which he easily felt—and her sharp intake of breath, but then she showed her bravery...her desire to try, and she said, “I guess we can give it a go, but no promises. I’ll see how each question feels.”
Closing his eyes for a millisecond, Ryan inhaled deeply. He hadn’t anticipated her agreement. His goal had been to give her yet another reminder that he was on her side, her team, and nothing more. But she had agreed. She’d given him an opening. Perhaps the start of dismantling this particular wall. If he proceeded with caution. If he didn’t push too hard.
He was also—whether he should or should not be—proud of Andi.
“I’m thinking there are three possible causes to your sleep problem,” he said, holding her close so she couldn’t bolt. Also, he just liked holding her close. So there was that. “One of which is that your brain won’t stop processing when you finally get in bed. You think about the day, a conversation you had, the shooting—whatever, from small to large—and your brain keeps cycling through, refusing to stop long enough for you to relax enough to actually fall asleep. Does this happen to you?”
“Yes. But...that’s not the entire issue.”
Yup, and that was not unexpected. She’d identified one area he might be able to help her with, though. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve faced that particular issue before. When the mind won’t rest, the body finds it almost impossible to do the same.”
“Yes,” she repeated. “I’ve found that to be true.”
He waited close to a minute before speaking again, in case she chose to add information to that which she’d already supplied, but she remained silent. Okay then, moving on. “When we’re asleep, we become vulnerable. Not only to outside forces, but internally, as well. If there is something we’re struggling with during our awake hours, this struggle might show itself in a dream. Or a nightmare. And these dreams are often repetitive, which—”
From Good Guy To Groom (The Colorado Fosters #6) Page 7
