by Liz Crowe
“No, no, please, don’t make me feel even more guilty by cleaning up. Jesus.”
“Too late.”
“Fine. Whatever. You are turning out to be too good to be true, but fine.”
“Just take care of…”
“Cole.”
“Yeah, Cole. I’ll be here. Oh, bring some beer home.” She hung up before realizing that calling it ‘home’ might be a tad forward.
Ryan stared at his phone, not quite sure how to take Lynette’s last request until he realized that the thought of going ‘home’ to her didn’t sound that bad, and not for his typical reasons. He leaned forward on the ugly blue hospital waiting room chair, elbows on his knees. The stress and lack of sleep, plus his busted nose, were helping morph the headache he’d been nursing into a real temple crusher. His vision was even getting blurry.
He gripped his phone and willed last night back. Wishing he’d done more than just jump the poor kid’s bones, as pleasant as that had been. He leaned back and tried to relax the knot of muscle in his neck. Guilt flooded every corner of his psyche. He should never have pushed Cole into bed again. He obviously hadn’t been ready for it.
Now something about his perception of Lynette had shifted. Or perhaps it was him, but whatever it was, he looked forward to seeing her. If for no other reason than he could drink some beer and finally relax after the barn-burner bullshit he’d been through these last twenty-four hours.
Audrey dropped into a chair next to him.
He turned to the lovely blonde woman who was going to marry his brother. “I’m really sorry. I mean, I don’t know what got into me, but…”
She stared straight ahead. Ryan recalled Quinn’s words about his fiancée—that the woman was eight thousand layers of stubborn, wrapped in intransigence, all tied up with an ornery string. She’d have to be, having built the most successful wine and beer distribution operation in the state out of her father’s one-time disaster of a company. He sighed and looked out onto a sea of faces in the VA hospital waiting room.
“Okay. I know this may be hard for you to believe, but I didn’t do anything to him. We, he…well, this is the second time we, you know.” He blew out a breath. She maintained her silence. “I have no excuse or reason why I bolted. It was wrong, lame and everything in between. And I’m sorry. That’s all I have. Take it or leave it. But I’m here now and really want to help him, if I can. I…care about your brother, Audrey…a lot.”
He spotted Quinn come around the corner carrying cardboard cups of what passed for coffee. His stomach churned at the thought of it. When Audrey started talking, her voice was monotone, as though she was reciting her times tables. Ryan listened and tried to find some thawing toward him in the words.
“Cole was the star of the football and the track team in high school but had no really close friends. He went on dates, but no girl was around more than once or twice. When he graduated, we had half the class at our house for his party, but we never really knew him, I guess. By the time he was halfway through his junior year of college, he decided to come out to our parents. And they told him to get out of their house. To never come back.”
Ryan leaned back, wanting to know more, but not really. And hating himself for thinking that. He took a cup of the swill from his brother and they sat, listening to Audrey give her flat-voiced monologue. “We weren’t close growing up. But when he told my parents, there wasn’t a big fight or anything. Our father just stood up, opened the door and told his only son to leave and never come back. And I hoped…well, I don’t know what I hoped.”
She sighed and put her face in her hands. Quinn reached out to touch her, but she jerked away. “No, don’t.” Quinn shot Ryan a what-did-I-tell-you look. “He was at loose ends since our parents stopped funding his college tuition and somehow ended up at a Marine recruiting center. They figured out quick he was a math and computer savant and sent him straight to officer training after basic. When my parents were killed in a car accident two years after my father disowned him, he didn’t come home for the funeral. It was…shitty. After that, we started talking more regularly. Then he ended up in Iraq, met Dan and…”
She turned to fix Ryan with an angry look. “Cole falls in love fast and hard. And I will not let you fuck around with his head. Do you get me, Shannon? I don’t care whose brother you are.” She stood, shrugging Quinn off when he tried to join her. She gripped her elbows, shivering in the too-cold room. “He’s all I have. My blood. My family. And you can’t just walk out like that and then show up here and claim that you care about him.”
“Hang on a second.” Quinn started to protest, but Ryan put a hand on his brother’s knee. Quinn glared at him.
“Let her finish,” Ryan said quietly.
“I won’t let you hurt us,” she spat out and turned and walked to Cole’s room, shutting the door behind her.
“Nice. Now I’m in trouble, too? Fuck.” Quinn checked his phone. “Tracey says Jamie went home with Lynette? Is that my firebrand marketing director?”
Ryan nodded, words frozen on his lips.
“I don’t know what in the hell you are getting yourself into with her or with my future brother-in-law, but so help me. Ryan, I will fucking strangle you with your own shoestring if you screw this up for me. I love that woman with everything I have and I’ve worked too hard to lose her because you can’t decide which goddamn team you bat for.”
Ryan stood and started for the elevator. He was shutting down, could barely see or hear. Audrey’s words had cut a hole in his gut he couldn’t justify. Cole. He wanted to see him so badly, but Audrey had said no. He’d sat for hours in the ice-cold waiting room, tried to be supportive and now was going to leave without even laying eyes on him. A hand on his arm made him turn around. His brother’s gaze was pure ice fury. “Stop walking away.”
Ryan jerked his arm out of Quinn’s grip. “Stop lecturing me. She won’t even let me near his room. What the fuck am I supposed to do here? My son is at home with a woman who was kind enough to volunteer to help me out. I want a shower, a beer and a nap. I don’t need to hear any more from either of you. I’m an asshole. I get it. Let go of my arm.”
Quinn blinked and stepped away. Ryan turned to push the ground floor button on the elevator and got a glimpse of Audrey guarding her brother’s hospital room like a mama bear over a nest of cubs. He sighed. All he wanted was sleep so he could think straight and maybe fix this, or at least make it less shitty.
He drove home in a daze, barely remembering the journey. Jamie was tucked into Lynette’s side, poring over a stack of books on the couch, when he opened the front door. “Daddy!” The boy jumped into his arms. Ryan held him, smelled his fresh-bathed little boy and let tears slip from his eyes. Lynette rose from the couch, patted Jamie’s back and put her lips way too close to his ear.
“I’ll go. You guys rest.”
“No!” Jamie yelped and tried to reach for her. “Lynette, stay.”
Ryan put a hand on her arm. “Yes, please, Lynette. Stay.”
Chapter Thirteen
Cole put out his hand and was soothed by his dog’s presence. He scratched Brutus between the ears and listened to the emails being read to him from the computer. He leaned back in his chair and contemplated the latest dilemma presented by this new client.
“Jake!” he barked out, grabbing the water bottle never far from his reach. “I need the Trillium report.”
“Got it,” his new business partner said, just over his left shoulder.
Sounds still assaulted him, but he’d learned to filter them, thanks to a different drug regimen and a better therapist. The ten days he had spent essentially a prisoner in the VA hospital had taught him a lot. Mainly that the self-pity bullshit needed to stop. So, he tried.
And, now, a month later, he sat in the house that his sister was slowly vacating while she moved her life into a new phase—one married to the brother of the man he still obsessed about. While he had taken his best clients and opened his own internet secur
ity consulting firm that consisted of him and Jake Lowery, a fellow Counter Intel vet.
“Here, Cole, listen to this.” Jake leaned over his arm, hit something on his keyboard and a fresh report poured into his ears. He tried to absorb it, but he was having one of those days. The days he dreaded, when the memories of Dan, of the time they’d shared and then the horrific carnage that had taken the man from him rippled through him like an undulating serpent. His head was pounding, reminiscent of his early days post-surgery. The dog whined and pushed his huge head onto Cole’s leg. “You okay?” Jake put a hand on his shoulder.
Cole shrugged, drank more water and repeated the mantra. One hour ahead, one day ahead, one week ahead, it’s all you have to do. Enjoy what you have. And he had a fair bit. His sister, Audrey, was getting married in a few weeks and he loved teasing her about the shotgun he was bringing. He truly looked forward to being an uncle.
But Ryan Shannon haunted his every moment, awake and asleep. He had told the therapist about him—about their two intense physical encounters and his own suicide attempt after the second one when he’d woken from his sleep/dream state and sensed Ryan’s body beneath him, heard his strangled cries for him to stop.
The sick part was that he even remembered what Ryan looked like, from the one brief time they’d met and that hurt the most. The memory of faces had to be one of the worst things on a long list of things that sucked about being blind.
God, he wanted to see Audrey again, even Quinn, so he could stare into the man’s face and make sure he was going to do right by his sister. He’d give anything to open his eyes and…just fucking see.
He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He felt tense all over. He needed release. Required a physical connection. Frankly, jacking off blind was even lamer than if he were sighted.
“Cole?”
“Yeah, sorry, Jake. Let’s talk about Trillium.”
After he and Jake shut things down for the night and the other man had left, Cole sat, absorbing all the night sounds that swirled in his ears. He was marking time and hadn’t been tempted to do anything stupid for nearly a month, but it was a close-run thing every day. Every minute that he did not hear from Ryan made it worse. He worked, of course, nearly around the clock, but the empty space that begged filling stayed that way.
Audrey’s ring tone made him jump. He stuck the Bluetooth device in his ear and absently rubbed his dog’s giant head. “What?”
“Well, I’m fine, Cole, thanks for asking. How are you doing today?”
“What do you want?” He rubbed his neck. Ghostly memories of Ryan’s lips and voice made Cole’s skin pebble with repressed lust, frustration and embarrassment.
“I need your opinion on something.” Audrey kept her voice light, but Cole had gotten even better at hearing stress between her words.
“Not more wedding crap, please.”
“Sorry. It’s all-consuming right now. And it keeps me from ripping fresh assholes at work. This pregnancy thing sucks. And I have to plan a wedding in December, which was just stupid. Why didn’t you talk me out of that?”
“Yeah, so what’s the question?” Cole’s heart sped up at the thought of a niece or nephew—one he would likely scare with his creepy sunglasses and protective dog.
“It’s a food thing. I’m wondering if we should try and feed all hundred and fifty guests a meal or just snacks and beer.”
Cole sighed, settled back in his seat and helped his sister sort out the latest nuptial dilemma. Her being pregnant was a bit of added strangeness, but Cole was happy for her. While he’d never figured his sister as being particularly baby-crazy, he chalked it up to just another female mystery he didn’t want to solve.
After he hung up, Brutus made a snuffling noise and put his head on Cole’s leg again. “Yeah, I know, dude.” Cole scratched the dog’s ears. “This whole thing is wild.” Half-thankful for the animal and half-frustrated at the fact that he needed him in the first place, he touched the computer mouse and more emails were read to him by the sexy feminine, only slightly computerized voice.
He dictated some answers and leaned back, sipping from the water bottle. The dog pressed against his leg, a comfort when he admitted it, which wasn’t often.
“What the hell am I supposed to do?” Brutus bumped his hand, indicating he had heard him. “Seriously. I still love…I mean, I miss, oh fuck. I need to get out of here.” He stood, and his canine eyes slipped beneath his hand to guide him out of the house and down the sidewalk. After some fresh, cool air, he felt a little better, but the thought of Audrey and Quinn’s wedding still made his gut churn because it meant one thing—Ryan would be back in his world for good.
.
Chapter Fourteen
Ryan groaned and stood, trying to stretch out some of the tension he’d developed in the last few days. They were working on a few new brewing concepts, and he was tearing his ever-loving hair out trying to work through the complexities while getting his brew staff on board.
On the plus side, he wasn’t constantly knocking his head against the bright red brick wall of Ms. Lynette Williams. They had relaxed into a much less confrontational means of communication, and he’d promised her a beer school session tonight. He had a bunch of classic craft styles gathered and was going to have her over to do some sipping and talking about how they compared and contrasted with what Ypsi Brewing made.
He rubbed his hand down his face when he spotted her across the brewery. The deep red of her long hair was hard to miss. Well, that and the luscious sway of her hips, currently encased in a silhouette-hugging slim gray skirt and light blue silk blouse. He swallowed hard.
They were friends. All was well. He had no reason to think there would be anything else between them, but his libido was rising to an occasion he had no business contemplating, so he turned away from her and refocused on the familiar frustrations of running his brewery.
When he looked up from his latest round of projections for the year, making the determination that his brother was going to have to loosen the purse strings and buy him another hundred-barrel fermenter, the place was nearly deserted. He glanced at his phone. “Shit, fuck, hell…shit!” He was thirty minutes late to get Jamie from day care—again. The boy had recently discovered that the world actually did not revolve around him, and it made the evenings challenging since he took out his five-year-old pent-up frustration on his father. Many nights they would simply collapse and sleep on the couch, healthy dinner, pj’s and teeth brushing be damned. Ryan cursed every morning they woke up this way, realizing he was the worst sort of parent letting that happen.
He tossed his backpack onto the back seat of his Jeep. Just when he was about to call the day care to apologize for being tardy again, he looked down to see a text from Lynette sent over an hour ago.
I got him. See you at your place?
He smiled and relaxed, then shook it off. Lynette was a friend to him and to his son and nothing more. His scalp was tingling by the time he pulled into his driveway. The sight of her in jeans and a brewery sweatshirt, sitting on his couch with his son on her lap, made a strange warmth steal through him.
He grabbed the kid when he ran into Ryan’s arms. His life had been so unfocused for so many years, and while he was grateful that something as drastic as becoming a father had set him on a better path, at times it overwhelmed him in the extreme.
“Hey, dude, sorry I was late.” He swung Jamie’s slight form up onto his shoulders. Quinn had initially wanted him to get a paternity test, but he didn’t care. Being Jamie’s father had given him purpose, a focus he’d never had. They didn’t do everything by the book, especially in the early years when he’d been happy to obtain a few hours of sleep a night even if it meant the infant slept in his bed. Jamie had not exhibited any signs of being born to a drug-addicted mother other than being below the size curve. He was smart, verbal, walked early and if anything was developmentally advanced. Between Quinn and his boys and his mother who was flat-out obsessed with the
kid, he never lacked for family attention.
“Daddy, I want Lynette to pick me up every day.”
“Not an option, but I’m glad she was there today.” He smiled at her, ignoring the voice in his brain that screamed at him to take note how perfect this moment was. He didn’t want her like this—he didn’t require domesticity, but dear Lord, she looked positively edible sitting there, her bare feet tucked up under her, sipping a milkshake. Her grin was infectious. “Can you grab some of the cases out of the car?”
She rolled her eyes and rose, unfolding herself inch by glorious inch. Ryan’s mouth dried out at the sight of her, but he distracted himself hustling Jamie into the kitchen. Do not fuck up a potentially great friendship. The last thing either of you need is to complicate things at work by getting in each other’s pants.
He threw some steaks on the grill and tossed a salad and Lynette made what she claimed was magically addictive, potentially orgasmic macaroni and cheese. The smell of it bubbling away in the oven was, indeed, mouth-watering.
When Ryan came in from the patio with the food, he stopped and watched her, sitting with Jamie at the tall kitchen table, coloring and having an in-depth conversation about a potential winner in an Optimus Prime versus Batman smackdown.
She grinned at the boy and tucked a lock of her curly auburn hair behind her ear. She looked straight up at him, catching him gawping at her. He arranged his face into serious lines. “Son, don’t ever pit anything or anyone against the caped crusader. It’s an unfair fight. Let’s eat.”
They opened beers for themselves, a precursor he claimed to the classroom session coming up later. Jamie inhaled the food, with the only potentially awkward moment coming when he asked “Daddy, what is or-gas-mic?”
Lynette giggled, but Ryan looked right at her when he spoke. “It’s an amazing word, Jamie, full of mystery and potential danger. But all you need to know right now is that you have two more bites to go and then it’s bath time.”
