Wasted Summer

by Cathryn Fox

  “Come on.” Ryeland helped her hoist her friend up. “I think she’s had too much to drink.”

  Jaelyn angled her head and gave Ryeland a wobbly smile. “Cole’s not nice like you.” They began leading her up the beach, Cole keeping a few steps behind them, and Jaelyn added, “But your friends suck.”

  “Come on, Jaelyn,” Mel said, not wanting her to bring up his friends. “Let’s just concentrate on walking.”

  “Did you tell him what Justin did?” she asked, her hair flying around her face as her head swung toward Mel.

  Mel felt her blood drain to her feet when Ryeland turned her way “What did Justin do?” he asked, his voice hard.

  “Oops, wasn’t supposed to tell,” Jaelyn said and started giggling.

  “Melody?” he asked.

  Mel shook her head. “It was nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Jaelyn said, then gave a big hiccup. “It wasn’t nothing.” She hiccupped again and covered her mouth.

  Ryeland glared at Jaelyn. “Tell me,” he said through clenched teeth.

  Jaelyn held a wobbly finger out. “He said he was gonna fuck her and fuck her hard.”

  Ryeland went as still as a stealth soldier, and Mel’s heart stopped beating.

  “Ryeland…” Mel began, her voice trembling.

  He stared at her. “You should have told me.”

  “I didn’t want trouble.”

  “Too late for that.” He inched back and when Mel noticed a crowd gathering, watching them, she tried to stop him, to quiet him, but he would have no part of that.

  “Ryeland, stop. I’m fine. It’s over.”

  “It’s not over. I’m going to kill him,” he said and took off, the group watching him turning to go after him to check out the action.

  Panic raced through her when he disappeared into the crowd. Jaelyn sank to the ground and Mel was about to go after him when Cameron stepped up to them.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, worry on his face.

  “What’s going on is your buddy is about to kill Justin,” Cole answered stepping up to them.

  “Oh, fuck,” Cameron said. He looked through the crowd, then pointedly at Cole as he gestured toward to Mel. “Keep her out of it, okay?”

  Cole shrugged. “Sure.”

  Cameron took off after Ryeland and Mel made a move to go but Cole grabbed her. “Oh no you don’t. You’re not getting between them.”

  “Cole, please. I need to stop this.”

  She struggled against him and when she heard the crowd chanting fight, fight, fight, she punched Cole in the gut. With the hit taking him by surprise, he buckled forward, and she took the opportunity to bolt.

  She pushed through the crowd, calling out to Ryeland. When she finally broke through the ring of people circling him, she found him on top of Justin, pummeling his face into the ground.

  “Ryeland stop,” she screamed and reached for him.

  Just then she felt someone grab her by the waist and carry her off. She fought hard to break free, and when she was finally let go, she turned to find Trevor smirking at her.

  She started to twist back around, to stop Ryeland, when Trevor pulled her against him. His foul breath fell over her and she knew he’d been drinking.

  “Leave me alone, Trevor,” she said, and just when she was about to throw a punch, Ryeland came out of nowhere and took Trevor to the ground.

  “Ryeland, no!” she yelled, ready to grab him, but then what happened next had her screaming at the top of her lungs. A group of townies swarmed Ryeland, dragging him from Trevor, and she listened to his grunts as fists smashed against his body. She caught a glimpse of something shiny, then a moment later they all ran off. Mel crawled across the sand to find Ryeland flat on his back, bleeding from his side.

  “He needs an ambulance,” Mel yelled, lifting his shirt and struggling to see the wound through her tears.

  “Melody,” Ryeland whispered as he struggled to lift his head. “Are you okay?”

  “Ryeland,” she choked out afraid she was going to lose him. “You’re bleeding.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said, his voice dropping to a faint whisper.

  Sirens sounded in the distance and the next thing she knew Officer Sattler was standing over them, the crowd spreading like wildfire.

  “Jesus.” Sattler reached for his radio. Everything that happened next seemed to go in slow motion. An ambulance showed up and they took Ryeland off. Sattler gathered her up in his patrol car and drove her to the hospital. A few who’d witnessed the fight came in, and as Sattler questioned them, she sat in the waiting room and watched. Soon Ryeland’s parents showed up and were ushered in to see him. Cameron came in and sat across from her. Neither spoke as minutes turned into hours.

  Mel had gone to the nurses’ station several times looking for information, but because she wasn’t family, no one would speak to her or give her answers. Soon night bled into day, and Jaelyn eventually showed up, a stricken look on her face.

  “Mel,” she said, giving her a big hug. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I was drinking…I didn’t mean.”

  “No one will tell me anything,” she said, not wanting to talk about whose fault it was or wasn’t.

  Jaelyn nodded. “Okay, I’ll try to find out something. First let me get you a coffee.” Mel sat there clutching her stomach, her eyes heavy, her body exhausted, but there was no way she was leaving. Jaelyn came back with a hot cup of coffee in a paper cup and Mel sipped on it as Jaelyn went in search of answers. Cameron went with her and a short while later they returned.

  Cameron came back. “I talked to his mom and she told me that he is out of surgery and is doing okay.”

  Mel let loose a cry of relief and clutched Jaelyn when she sat down next to her. “Will they let us see him?”

  “Take her out of here,” a hard voice boomed from behind.

  Mel turned around and her stomach tightened when she found Ryeland’s father standing there. He glared at her, then looked at Cameron. “She’s caused enough trouble as it is.”

  “Come on,” Cameron said, standing up. Mel opened her mouth to protest but Cameron leaned into her and whispered, “Believe me, right now it’s about what’s best for Ryeland.”

  Confusion, worry, fear, and every dreadful emotion she’d ever felt rose to the surface. “Okay,” she agreed reluctantly and let him lead her outside. The warm morning sun washed over her but did little to thaw the ice inside her. She shaded her eyes and blinked as Cameron led her and Jaelyn to his car.

  Cameron dropped them both off at their lodge, and while Jaelyn wanted to stay with her, Mel needed to be alone. With so much to think about, she slipped between her sheets. Even though she was exhausted, she tossed and turned restlessly, dreaming and worrying about Ryeland.

  A knock at her door many, many hours later pulled her awake, and she jumped from her bed, hoping it was news about Ryeland. When she saw his father standing there, holding the pregnancy stick she’d forgotten at his chalet, her fight or flight instinct kicked in hard, because she knew nothing, absolutely nothing good could come from this.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ryeland blinked against the blaring overhead light as nurses rushed about, poking his arm and hooking him up to machinery. Jesus, it hurt to move, to breathe. He could hear his father’s voice in the distance, followed by his mother’s. They sounded upset as they whispered—argued—about having his medical files faxed to the hospital.

  The nurse called out for his blood type, and Ryeland was certain he heard something about a transfusion. But that’s when things became really confusing. It was either the drugs kicking in, or something was seriously off. How could he have such a rare blood type and not be a match with one of his parents. If he was their kid, he had to be a match with at least one of them. Before he could consider it further, the drugs kicked back in and the world around him faded to black.

  When Ryeland woke up again, he had no idea what day it was or how long he’d been asleep. He g
lanced around, looking for Melody, worried about her. “Where’s Melody?” he whispered, his throat so dry it hurt to speak.

  “Try not to move too much,” a nurse said as she adjusted his IV and offered him a few chips of ice on a plastic spoon.

  He nibbled on the ice. “How long have I been in here?”

  “Close to thirty-six hours,” she said.

  Thirty-six hours? Christ, he needed to see Melody.

  “You’re in serious trouble, young man,” his father said from the doorway. The nurse stiffened and hurried about her work as his father’s large, intimidating frame ate up the small room.

  “Hello to you too,” Ryeland murmured and turned his attention to Sattler. “What’s going on?” Ryeland croaked out.

  Sattler rocked on his feet. “Both Justin and Trevor are pressing charges,” he said.

  Ryeland gave a laugh that made his wound hurt. “I’m the one in bed with a stab wound.”

  Sattler folded his arms. “I have witnesses that say you started the fight and pulled the knife.”

  Ryeland tried to get up but the pain in his side stilled him. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

  “Ryeland,” his father warned.

  “I even have witnesses saying they overheard you saying you were going to kill him.”

  His stomach clenched. Oh, Jesus, this was bad. “I might have said that but I didn’t mean I was really going to kill him.”

  When the nurse saw how agitated Ryeland was becoming, she turned to his father and the officer. “I think that’s enough for now. He needs his rest.”

  She ushered them outside to speak and a few minutes later his mom came in. She leaned over him and pushed his hair back. “You really need a hair cut,” she said, worry still lingering in the depths of her eyes as she fussed about.

  As he looked at her, something niggled at him in the back of his mind. He reached for it and caught it just before it disappeared.

  “What’s your blood type?” he asked.

  Her face paled. “What?”

  “What blood type are you?”

  “None of that matters now, Ryeland. None of it. You’re doing better and that’s all that counts.”

  “How come my blood type doesn’t match yours or Dad’s?”

  “Ryeland, please. That’s enough.”

  His stomach tightened, because in that instant, as he watched her face go white, her bright blue eyes go wide—eyes so different from his—he knew. Jesus Christ, all the pieces of the puzzle known as his father and the way he’d changed after Ryeland’s childhood illness suddenly all made sense. He wanted Ryeland working for him, not because he was protective of him, like Melody had thought, but because he was protecting himself—protecting his secrets.

  He shook his head, stopping when the room tilted on its axis. “Oh Jesus.”

  His mother swallowed and tried to pretend nothing was wrong as she fussed with his blanket. But he knew things were wrong, so very, very wrong.

  “You should try to get some rest,” she said, and he could tell her smile was forced.

  “Arthur. He’s not my real father, is he?”

  “Ryeland,” she whispered and darted a nervous glance over her shoulder. “Stop talking like that.”

  “He’s not, is he?”

  She turned from him, but not before he caught the worry lines around her eyes. “Ryeland, please don’t do this.”

  “Tell me now, right now,” he said, his voice rising.

  She dropped down into the chair beside his bed, panic on her face. “Please, Ryeland.”

  “Tell me or I’ll ask him.”

  “It was a long time ago.” Looking more wary then he’d ever seen her, she sagged in the chair and put her hands on either side of her face. “I made a mistake. That’s all.”

  “A mistake? What was the mistake? Getting pregnant by another man, or trying to pass that kid off as Arthur’s?” She went quiet and he added, “That’s what you did, didn’t you? And Dad figured it out when I got sick with leukemia. I needed blood and mine didn’t match with yours or his. There’s only one reason for that.”

  “Ryeland,” she whispered, and he could tell by the stricken look on her face it was all true.

  He shoved his fingers through his hair. How could he have missed what was right under his nose all along? He thought of his blonde-haired, blue-eyed brother and sister. Both the spitting image of their mom and dad. He scoffed. Now he knew why he was the black sheep—he took after his real father.

  “He was going to leave and take Rita with him,” she hissed. “I wanted to be the one to leave. I deserved it more than her. So yes, I got pregnant and pretended you were his. But it doesn’t change anything. Arthur has raised you like you were one of his own.”

  Despite the headache and dizziness, Ryeland shook his head, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. Melody’s mother wasn’t the lying, manipulative whore Eliza had claimed she was when he’d asked about her at the police station. No, his mother was. She was the one who’d gotten pregnant by another man and claimed the child was Arthur’s so she could get out of Deerfield. No wonder she knew so much about townies and what they’d do to better themselves—because she’d used all the tricks herself.

  Holy Jesus Christ.

  “Who was my father?” he asked. When she hesitated, he said, “Tell me.”

  “He was just a ranch hand.”

  “A ranch hand,” he said. “So that’s why Arthur hated me in the stable. I guess he thought people would figure out your dirty little secret and it would look bad for him.”

  “Ryeland, please. Let it go. Don’t bring shame upon this family. Your father’s work…”

  “Let it go. How the hell am I supposed to let it go?”

  “Let what go?” his father asked.

  Before he could answer, a movement behind his father’s shoulders caught Ryeland’s attention.

  “Melody,” he whispered, holding his hand out to her. Oh, God, he needed her so much right now. But when she didn’t budge, his heart jumped into his throat because he suddenly had the feeling his day was about to go from bad to worse.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Ryeland,” Mel said, cringing slightly as her gaze moved over his bruised face. “How are you feeling?”

  Ryeland’s father cleared his throat and Mel stiffened. “Don’t you have something to say?” he asked her.

  She crossed her arms to keep them from shaking and bit the inside of her cheek, but there was nothing she could do to keep her chest from constricting, making it difficult to talk, to draw in air. She opened her mouth and shut it again, unable to say the words Arthur had put into her mouth. Bile rose into her throat and it was all she could do not to throw up, to run to Ryeland and tell him the truth. But the truth would hurt him—in more ways than one—and that was the last thing she ever wanted to do. She drew a shaky breath and reminded herself that this was what was best for him, and because she loved him with everything inside her, she was going to stand tall and put his well-being above her own. No matter how much it ripped her heart from her chest and destroyed every little bit of her.

  She opened her mouth again but when the words wouldn’t come, her father blurted out. “I found the pregnancy stick, and the baby isn’t yours.”

  Ryeland tried to sit up on the bed. He struggled and Melody rooted her feet when all she wanted to do was go to him.

  “What?” he asked. “No, that’s not true.” He looked at Melody, and the confusion on his face set fire to her chest.

  “It is true,” his mother said. She reached into his medical file and pulled out a sheet of paper. “You’re sterile, a result of your treatments when you were young.”

  “Sterile? What are you talking about?”

  From the chair beside his bed, his mother patted his hand. “We didn’t tell you because we thought you were too young to deal with it.”

  Melody remained quiet as he pulled his hand away from his mother’s, and watched the hurtful exchange
from the doorway, unable to move, to speak, to breathe.

  “I don’t believe you.” Ryeland pushed the paper away. “I don’t believe any of this.”

  “Believe it. The indisputable facts are right there in front of you,” Arthur stated, his voice as hard as his features.

  “She’s been sleeping around,” her mother added. “I warned you about her, Ryeland. She used the pregnancy to trick you to get a better life for herself.” She cast a quick glance Melody’s way then turned back to Ryeland. “I bet she even tricked you into using no protection.”

  “You’d know all about that now wouldn’t you?” he bit out and his mother flinched. Then something moved over his face, something that told Mel he was thinking about the last time they had sex—without a condom. Then he blinked away the moment of doubt and said, “And you’re wrong about her. The baby is mine.”

  “I’m not wrong,” his mother said, sitting up a little straighter.

  “Melody, tell them it’s not true,” Ryeland said. “Tell them.”

  Arthur folded his arms. “We know a few people who will attest to it.”

  “Bullshit,” he shot back.

  Arthur glared at him. “That’s not what Justin says, and it certainly stands to reason why you went after him.”

  “There is no sense in arguing this with you.” He looked at Melody. “Melody, please…”

  Mel swallowed hard and in a low voice said, “You passed your law entrance exams, Ryeland. If you were presented with these facts, what would be your conclusion?”

  His mouth fell open as he stared at her, the hurt in his eyes cutting into her soul. It took every ounce of strength she had to push the lie through her lips, but if she didn’t Ryeland could go to jail, and any future, whether it was in medicine or law, would be ruined.

  “Melody, come on.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “We spent every night together.”

  As her heart crumbled into a million broken pieces, she thought about the nights she spent with her mom. “Not every night.”

  He fisted his hair. “Why are you doing this to me? To us?”

  “You wasted your entire summer on her, Ryeland,” Arthur said.