From Good Guy To Groom (The Colorado Fosters #6)

by Tracy Madison

  He was a good guy. He had a good heart. He’d proved both in spades within the small amount of time they’d known each other. And while he did not require her protection—he was a grown man, after all—she refused to ignore how her current inabilities and confusion could affect him or his heart. Doing so wouldn’t only be selfish, it would be cruel.

  In this second, though, she swallowed her concerns and enjoyed every ounce of goodness that filled her heart and soul. Earlier, she had arrived at the wrong conclusion. Changes were, indeed, happening here in Steamboat Springs that hadn’t occurred at home. An awakening of sorts. An awareness of herself, her body and the world—hell, the people—around her that had been missing since December. And tonight, with Ryan’s help, she’d avoided a panic attack.

  Yes, changes were happening. Positive, life-affirming changes. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—deny or ignore or minimize that truth, either. So, she’d...continue on, keep the good and the potential bad in mind, and wait until the dust cleared enough to see the full truth.

  Whatever that might be.

  Chapter Six

  “So, Mom,” Ryan said the following afternoon at his parents’ house, “Nicole has one more birthday present in mind for you, but she’ll need some time to get everything in order. Maybe a year or more. Probably why she hasn’t said anything yet. Right, Nic?”

  His sister narrowed her blue eyes and gave him a what-in-the-hell-are-you-talking-about-now type of look. “Um. I don’t know what your addle-brained son is going on about, Mom, but don’t believe a word he says. Now, I do have some ideas for Christmas, but that’s a ways off.”

  “Wow! You think...” Purposely letting his words trail off, Ryan counted aloud on his fingers, and then said, “Six months? I know triplets are often born early, but come on, let’s shoot for the full nine months. Eight, at least. To insure their lungs are—”

  She smacked him hard on his arm. “You’re a brat. Have always been a brat, will always be a brat.” Standing up from the kitchen table, she started clearing the dishes. “Don’t listen to a word he says, either of you,” she said to their parents. “I’m not pregnant. He’s referring to our ongoing jokes about how you’d like to be a grandma, Mom, and...well, just ignore him.”

  Joining his sister in picking up from their cake-and-ice-cream celebration, he said, “Excuse me if I believed you about calling one-eight-hundred-baby. You should really be more clear when you’re joking, Nicole. I can’t read your mind, now can I?”

  Splashing water from the running faucet in his direction, she grinned. “You’re such a pain in the butt. Unless something miraculous occurs, you’re much more likely to produce offspring in the near future. Now, apologize to our mother for getting her hopes up.”

  And there it was again, the twinge of pain evident in his sister’s eyes and her expression. He’d seen it yesterday when they were having a very similar conversation about...babies. Comprehension dawned. The chemotherapy treatments Nicole endured had probably ramped up her biological clock. Aw, hell. Now he just felt bad for the teasing.

  “Hey, Mom,” he said, facing the table where both his parents still sat, “I am sorry. I was just trying to get Nicole to laugh. You, too, so I hope you didn’t take me seriously.”

  Brenda shrugged. “I did not take you seriously. Your voice gives you away when you’re teasing or leading into a joke. However,” she said, turning her attention to Nicole, “I am curious about your statement. Why might your brother produce offspring in the near future?”

  Her cheeks a bright apple-red, Nicole finished rinsing the plates before answering. “Oh, I don’t know. He’s—for a pain in the butt—an okay-looking guy. I’m guessing it won’t be much longer before he dives into the dating pool again. Women seem to like him and...and...it’s been a while since Leah, so it’s just an assumption, really. Nothing concrete.”

  “Uh-huh. Jerry,” their mother said to their father, “am I mistaken, or is our daughter hiding something about our son from us? Such as, he’s already started dating someone?”

  “Well now, it’s certainly a possibility.” Jerry stretched his arms behind him and clasped the back of his head with his hands, taking on a pseudorelaxed pose. “Our daughter has never excelled at duplicity, as you know. That being said, Ryan is usually quick to tell us if something has changed in his life. I don’t know, Brenda. Could go either way here.”

  “Sorry, Ryan,” Nicole said half under her breath. “Didn’t mean to put you in hot water.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice. “I’m not in hot water, but I do have a private life. And, yup, while I’ve often confided in the beginning stages of anything new, relationships or otherwise, this is not a topic I’m willing to discuss.”

  “But there is someone,” his mother said, her excitement and curiosity apparent. “That’s good. And, of course, you don’t have to share anything you don’t want to right now. But at some point, when you’re ready, I would like to hear all about this woman, whoever she is, and eventually meet her.”

  “If and when the timing becomes appropriate, then yes.” Ryan didn’t dare speculate if that day would ever come into being. Oh, yesterday had been promising...in more ways than one, but he knew that Andi was a woman who needed time. As far as he was concerned, she could have however much of that she needed, which was why he hadn’t pushed her into accepting his invitation to celebrate his mother’s birthday. He’d keep giving her openings. What she did with those openings was up to her. “Until then, though, let’s leave this topic alone. Please.”

  “Serious then, is it?” Jerry asked, his brow lifting in interest and contemplation. “Serious on your side, at any rate, if she’s not quite there yet.”

  Ryan opened his jaw to answer, thought better of spreading even more bread crumbs for his parents to gather, and closed it. This was not leaving the topic alone, and until he actually understood what existed with Andi, there wasn’t a reason to bring his folks into the loop.

  “I know the feeling, son,” his father continued, as if Ryan had verbally agreed with his declaration. “Your mother gave me quite the runaround when we first met. Lord, she tried my patience. Never met a woman so damn set on not falling in love. In those days, every other woman I dated wanted to settle down and start a family. None of them were quite right, until I laid eyes on the prettiest little blonde I’d ever seen.” Swiveling in his chair, he looked at his wife. “So independent. Do you remember what you said when I first asked you on a date?”

  It was Ryan’s mother’s turn to blush. “Oh, I remember. I also recall your refusal to take no for an answer. Flowers and chocolates. Stopping by the house uninvited, helping my dad with the yard work and with his always-broken-down car. Bringing the groceries into the house for Mom. You were constantly there. Driving me crazy.”

  “Sure,” their father said, a twinkle in his dark eyes. “I wasn’t about to let you write me off or forget I existed. Had to prove that you could count on me, didn’t I?”

  “You were relentless,” Brenda said with a soft, light laugh.

  “I was, and I’d do the same again if given the chance.”

  “Oh, come on now,” Nicole said, returning to the table and sitting down. “You can’t leave us hanging. What did Mom say when you asked her out that first time?”

  “You tell them,” Jerry said to Brenda. “Just as you did then, if you can.”

  “You’re a silly old man with a fanciful heart, but okay, if you insist.” Sitting straight and tall, Brenda leveled their father with a you-gotta-be-kidding-me type of smirk—Ryan guessed you’d call it—and said in a voice fit for royalty, “A date? I’m sorry, I’m busy every night for the next year. You’ll have to find someone else to entertain you.”

  “Mother! You couldn’t have just said, No, thank you?” Nicole said. “Poor Daddy.”

  “Your ‘
poor’ father was known for playing the field,” Brenda said. “And breaking hearts. He was quite the ladies’ man, whether he wants to admit to that fact or not.”

  “Only because I was desperate to find the partner I yearned for. And then I saw you, and my heart told me everything I needed to know.” Leaning over, he kissed Brenda’s cheek. “It just took a lot of work, a lot of patience and a lot of convincing for you to see that I was right.”

  Persistence. Stubbornness. Determination. Yup. That sounded like the man who’d raised him. “Strange, we’ve never heard this story before,” Ryan said. “It’s a good one. And I’m relieved that you didn’t give up and that Mom came around. How long did it take?”

  “Not too long, considering where we started.” Jerry winked at Brenda. “Less than six months, wasn’t it, before you started to thaw? Or am I remembering incorrectly?”

  Brenda sniffed. “Only took three months, I just kept you waiting for another two to see how serious you actually were,” she said, a sparkle in her baby blues. “By then, I knew without a doubt that I’d marry you someday and that we would make an excellent team.”

  Huh. Five months until his mother had admitted that his father had erased her doubts and allowed him to sweep her off her feet. Different scenario, by far, than what was happening with Andi. But still...five months. Didn’t seem that long in the scheme of a lifetime together. Wasn’t that long, period. Except, Andi’s time in Steamboat Springs would come to an end when summer did. In roughly two months.

  Sixty days, give or take, to help Andi stand one hundred percent on her own, in her strength, so she could vanquish her nightmares, her fears. So she could leave Steamboat Springs a freer woman who walked in sunlight instead of darkness. That, right there, was the only end goal that mattered. He wanted her happy. Alive. Hopeful.

  And if in that space of sixty days, give or take, he determined that all he felt for this woman was true and real and solid? Well, that would be a gift. Even if he fell hopelessly in love and she left him here, without so much as a backward glance. But he’d be fine.

  Of course he would.

  As long as he knew that she had stepped from the shadows and returned to the world of the living. That she had found whatever peace she required to regain her confidence. Yeah, that was a big one. And that she was happy. Really, that was all he needed to be okay.

  * * *

  Stretched out on a lounge chair the following Thursday, enjoying the late-morning air, Andi sipped her coffee and tried to summon the courage for what she planned to do that afternoon. Drive. In a car. By herself. Oh, she didn’t expect to go far...just to the library to check out a few books, maybe stop at the pub and eat lunch. Say hi to whichever of her cousins might be there and feel...normal. No. Not feel normal.

  Be normal.

  And if she handled the excursion well, then later in the week she’d visit the magical hot spring again, with her camera and a book and whatever else she felt like bringing—and whatever she could carry while maneuvering the path—with her. But driving to Ryan’s was a fair distance longer than to the library and Foster’s Pub and Grill. So, she’d start with the manageable, see how that went and plan accordingly. Baby steps, yes, but in the right direction.

  At the moment, the house was empty. Paul and Margaret had left for the pub about an hour ago, to do whatever was required to open for the day. Since Andi’s arrival, one of them had left early while the other had waited until midafternoon. Andi’s assumption was they hadn’t wanted to leave her alone until they felt she’d settled into her new surroundings.

  Sweet, really. Considerate, too. And for the first couple of weeks, entirely helpful. After a couple of more weeks, they were obviously ready to return to their normal routine and were comfortable with doing so. She was glad for both. Surprising, really, how quickly she had stopped feeling like a visitor and as if this beautiful house was actually her home. Due to her aunt and uncle’s genuine and welcoming kind natures and their commitment to family, she had found the respite she so desperately needed. Still needed, if she were to be fully honest, in order to combat the nightmares that plagued her nighttime hours.

  Doable, she believed. She was on the right path. Several nights ago, a few harmless beautiful fireworks had nearly sent her over the edge. But they hadn’t. In one way or the other, she’d get everything else under control. One step, success, at a time had to be sufficient.

  Oh, if she woke tomorrow a new—or rather, her old—self, she would consider that a miracle. Unlikely to happen. Miracles were called what they were for a reason. Therefore, she had to continue to stubbornly push toward her goals and be grateful for any amount of progress. Small or large. Today, that progress involved driving a car.

  A positive step that would offer the added benefit of increased independence. No longer would she require her aunt to chauffeur her to and from Ryan’s, and she’d have the freedom to visit the hot spring as often as she chose. Or to spend an afternoon at one of the many parks in the area, or take some initiative and stop by her cousins’ homes to get to know them better.

  Yes. She wanted to do all of that and more.

  Andi finished her coffee and, ignoring the fatigue that penetrated deep into her bones, went to take a shower. Sixty minutes later, refreshed and prepared to tackle the day, she chose yet another sundress from her closet, slipped on a pair of sandals, tied her long mane of hair into a loose knot and applied a light layer of concealer under her eyes to camouflage the dark circles. Some eyeliner and a dab of lip gloss later, she was ready.

  Aunt Margaret had left the car keys on the kitchen counter, along with a Post-it note she’d scrawled with the words, “Stop by the pub for lunch!” and had drawn a goofy smiley face. She didn’t offer Andi luck or ask her to be careful, which somehow bolstered her confidence. It was driving a car. She knew the route to the library, and the pub was only a few blocks from there.

  Of course she could manage such a simple task.

  Dragging in a breath, Andi grabbed the keys and her purse and let herself out the back door. She was halfway to the car before she realized she’d left her cane inside, propped against her dresser, and she almost went to retrieve it. But, hey, she’d walked from her bedroom to the kitchen, from the kitchen to the back porch and down the steps without any problem. Until a few seconds ago, she hadn’t even missed the cane. So...why use it?

  Right. Still, she hesitated. Thought about the worst-case scenario, which boiled down to nothing more than tripping, perhaps falling. Embarrassing? Sure. But people with two strong and healthy legs tripped and fell on their butts all of the time.

  Hell, she’d done so on more than one occasion when she had two strong and healthy legs.

  Testing her weight on her right leg, she walked a few more feet. Stopped and grinned. Screw the cane. She only planned on this excursion lasting three to four hours, maximum. And a good hour or two of that would entail sitting in the car and at the restaurant. It would prove a valuable experiment, she decided, to see how well she did.

  Maybe she’d learn she no longer required the cane, and that would be yet another positive step in the proper direction. Or she’d discover she wasn’t quite there yet, but...even in that circumstance, she’d have the knowledge that she’d tried. And that felt positive.

  Hopeful and affirming.

  Andi slid into the driver’s seat of the silvery-blue Prius her aunt drove and smiled even wider. Yeah, this felt good. She buckled the seat belt, put the key into the ignition and started the engine, inhaled a fortifying breath and, after the car was in Drive, lightly pushed on the gas pedal. Her heart did not race. Sweat did not appear on her neck or her hairline.

  Okay. Good. But too soon to celebrate. If she managed the library and the pub and the return home without a whisper of a panic attack, she’d celebrate then. How? She didn’t know. But seeing that the last time she’d attempted a sol
o drive, she’d had to pull off to the side of the road more than once in order to regain a modicum of calmness, her headway thus far gave her confidence that today she’d kick this particular demon’s ass.

  She’d then battle the next demon, and then the next, until no more remained.

  * * *

  The Facebook message from Leah might as well have been written in blinking neon lights. Ryan had, by now, read her words a total of four times, yet everything she’d said hadn’t fully absorbed. She missed him. Their ongoing friendship was the strongest relationship in her life, which had led her to believe she’d made a mistake in ending their engagement. Could they arrange a time to talk? If he missed her, as well, and hadn’t become involved with someone else, that is. And, of course, if enough care existed to possibly consider giving them another chance.

  Well, hell.

  Two years ago—maybe even as little as one year ago—his response would’ve been guarded but hopeful. Yes. Plan a visit. Let’s have a conversation, spend some time together, and if any possibility for a romantic relationship still exists, we’ll take it from there. Slowly.

  He would’ve insisted on slowly. But, yeah, he would’ve wanted to see. To know.

  Swearing softly, Ryan shut down his laptop and went to make dinner without responding. Oh, she’d know he’d read her message, would probably wonder, worry, about his delay. But he needed some time to consider how to best reply. Not what but how. So as not to hurt her feelings or cause her any reason to regret taking such a risk. In his opinion, risks were necessary.

  Without them, anything that could be never would be.

  In that message, Leah had put herself out there for him, exposed her heart and her desire to try to find their way back together. That could not have been easy for her; nor had she likely made that decision on the fly. So. Respect and honor and kindness were called for, because while he did not love Leah the way he once had, he still cared for her as a person. As his friend.