by Harlow Stone
I just finish topping up my wine glass when Ryder strolls to the fridge in the kitchen. He grabs a beer and slowly makes his way to the couch. His hair is extremely dark to the fact that it’s still wet and he’s wearing a dark t-shirt and loose worn out jeans.
Barefoot.
When he reaches me he bends down and plants a kiss to my forehead before settling on the couch with about a foot between us. He turns towards me and puts his arm across the back of the couch and takes a long swig of his beer. I’m leaned back into the armrest with my feet tucked under me half facing him. I know this is the time to talk; I just don't want to be the one to break the ice.
I study his handsome face for a while as he studies me from top to toe. Being home warrants the usual attire and I didn't change that because he’s here. Loose drawstring pants, tank, and light cardigan with my hair in a messy knot on top of my head.
Ryder’s whiskey voice calmly breaks the silence.
“Gave you space today beautiful. I know that’s a lot of shit for you to go over in your head since from what I understand; you’ve been alone for a while and haven’t talked about it. But I’d appreciate it if you could give me a little more.”
He reaches down and gives my thigh a reassuring squeeze before continuing.
“If you can’t right now, I’ll understand. But it’s like ripping off a band aid, babe. Today, tomorrow, eventually it’s going to come to us sitting in this place about to go over what we should be going over. I’m saying its better now to get it over with, not just for me, for you Elle. It’s time to get this shit out there and over with, and I need your help to do that.”
Those eyes don't leave my face and I know I have his undivided attention. Once again, remaining eye contact, something I have always respected. It says something about a person when they keep their eyes locked on yours. Their confident, they have nothing to hide, and they are actually interested in what you have to say.
There are also the cases where it’s an intimidation tactic, but this is not one of those cases. This is him, respecting me, and genuinely interested in not just what may come out of my mouth, but me as a person. Or at least I hope. Time to rectify that.
“Do you need my help, or do you want to help Ryder? Because I need to know that your here because you want to be, not because this is a job to you. Your curious by nature, top that with what you do for a living I can’t help but wonder if your still here simply because I’m another puzzle for you to solve.
“I’m not asking you to feel the emotions that I do, or be as emotionally invested as I am. But clearly, this is personal for me and the last person I shared my shit with that had no emotional or personal connection to me royally fucked my case. Hence why I am not only living in a different town, but a different Country.”
He’s about to speak but I put my hand up to stop him before he gets the chance.
“I don’t take this lightly Ryder, and I will not share what was once my life with someone, if they simply view it as a job. It’s not a job. I am not a job. This about my family, and this is my life.”
I am proud that I didn't raise my voice throughout my rant and remained relatively calm. If this conversation happened a few months ago it would not have.
As much as I want to push him away sometimes, I know that he is incredibly intelligent and level headed that its best I stay the same to get through this. It also helps that I’ve been pouring over all the details since I’ve been in Indy so this isn’t too big of a blow to the head.
Ryder sets his beer on the table and returns to grab my hand that isn’t currently keeping a death grip on my wine. His eyes are not exactly hard, but determined. This is one thing dare I say I love about him. His eyes are so expressive when he’s with me, or maybe they just connect with mine in that way that we see each other.
His warm hand envelops mine, firm not too hard. He brings it to his lap and turns further to face me directly before he responds.
“Not one day Elle, not one where I was driving across the country trying to find you, did I ever once consider that this was a job. I didn’t set out knowing that there is wrong in someone's life and it’s my civic duty to right it.
“I set out knowing that the woman I enjoyed spending time with, the one I miss seeing on her porch in the morning was no longer there for me to see drinking coffee.”
He reaches out brushes a lock of hair from my face and his fingers trail down the side of my cheek before continuing, leaving his hands connected to me and his eyes glued to mine.
“I went through more than one tank of fuel in a day driving up and down the streets of this town, knowing that regardless of the lack of sleep I had, and the shit places I slept in, that if I got to see you alive and well then it would be worth it. I pushed off jobs Elle; I got one of my men to take over the daily work shit so I could devote one hundred percent of my time to making sure that you were okay.”
He leans in so his face is just inches from mine and curls his hand around the back of my neck. I can feel the warmth of his body in close proximity to mine and the energy that connects us. It’s euphoric the emotions and feelings this man brings out in me that I’ve never felt before.
We’ve all felt love, we’ve all felt lust. Put those two and every other emotion together and you get this incredible deep connection that could never be described, only felt from top to toe and deep into your bones.
It’s everything.
“I will never, not once Elle, consider you a job. You’re the first woman who’s ever called me on my shit. You’re also the first woman who’s ever refused my help with something like cleaning gutters and a water line blowing when most women would run the other fuckin’ way.
“I told you once you were different Elle, and I meant that in a good way. You’re my kind of different beautiful, and you didn’t have a hope in hell if you thought you could run without ever letting me see you again. I didn’t lie when I said I want to see where this goes, and babe, this is me seeing where this will go. The only difference now is I’m that much more invested because of the puzzle that has become your life.
“I won’t lie babe its shit, and I hate that that happened to you and I wasn’t there to help you through it. But I’m here now beautiful, and if you’ll have me I’m not going anywhere. Before, or after we figure this shit out. You’re not my job Elle, your becoming my life.”
His black eyes penetrate mine and I’m stunned. Speechless.
That’s the only thing I can think after the spiel that Ryder has just fed me. It’s not because the man has a way with words. It’s because he too, tells it like it is. He didn't bullshit, he didn't sugarcoat. He laid it out for me.
Respect.
I reach up and bring my hand to his face. Once again he has not shaved in a few days and his stubble does little to deter me. When my hand connects and runs down his jaw his eyes soften even further then when he told me I was becoming his life. I run my thumb along his chin and move it to his bottom lip.
I’ve never been this connected with him, this hands on in a way that shows intimacy. So far I’ve avoided this type of contact with him because of exactly that, it’s too intimate.
After the things he’s done, and the things he’s said, I don't feel like I owe this to him. I feel like I can finally give him this part of me that I’ve been holding back because I understand that he won’t take it for granted.
His lush lips kiss my thumb before his hand that still holds onto my neck begins to pull me closer. It’s slow, but steady pace and he tilts his head to press his lips to mine. There’s no tongue, it’s simply a steady pressure of his beautiful mouth to mine letting me know that he understands what I just said through my touch.
It’s amazing what actions can do. And he completely understands that I just gave him a small part of myself that I’ve been holding back. The part that might give you a kiss before you leave to get a carton of milk. The part that might put your dinner in the oven to keep it warm when you’re running late at work
. And lastly, the part that gives you a little of their load when it’s been breaking your back to carry all by yourself.
He’ll help me carry it.
And if I give up, he’ll take it all.
That’s what just passed between us without words.
That’s our connection.
Chapter Twenty-three
We held each other for I don't know how long before Ryder places a sweet kiss under my ear and leans back into the couch. He reaches his arm out under my legs and pulls them onto his lap.
He settles himself back against the couch and I lean back into the armrest. His hands gently rub from thigh to calf, not in a sexual way, yet, but in a soothing way that calms me and allows the words to flow from my lips.
I take a sip of my wine and stare towards the front window facing the street.
“When I was in my early twenties, I thought I had it all. A few years out of university, many life experiences under my belt and a new fling to fill the gaps between the long hours I put in at O’Connor Incorporated.
“I didn't always plan on working for my family, but it wasn’t just something I knew, it was something I enjoyed.
“My Dad’s company wasn't huge, but enough that any architectural development that took place in the surrounding bigger cities was always completed by his company. He believed in restoring the old before demolishing to build something new and I appreciated that. I grew up with a love of architecture and the sentimentality that came with it.
“Who lived there? Who worked there? What happened behind those doors? He started out small, and eventually turned his work into recreating and blending the old with the new.
“So in between years of learning how to properly restore floors in an old centurion home, to building a state of the art modern library, it didn't leave me much time for anything else. Other than making time for my best friend Laura I was a workaholic. I was okay with that.”
I pause to top off my vino and earn a squeeze on the thigh from Ryder to continue when I’m ready.
“Laura was my best friend, is my best friend. She’s been with me through it all. She’s the only other person I’ve met in life that is enough like me that we don't clash. She tells it like it is, and calls me on my shit. She’s consistently late and incredibly forgetful unless it’s important. All those things are redeemed for what she’s done for me in life, and vice versa. She’s my sister and I’ll never consider her anything less.
“One night while we were at a local waterhole drinking tequila, I met Cory. He looked good; he was easy enough to talk to and thus started my next fling. I knew with him and many other before him that it would never be something serious. He knew the score, as did I. I was always up front with the people I connected with, not to say there were a lot. Just a handful, never at the same time, but there when a woman needed a release without the complications of a relationship.
“We didn't set dates; we didn't introduce each other to our families. It was two consenting adults that were single and wanted to have some fun.
“Cory and I kept each other's company for about two months, a few times a week. Low and behold at the end of month two I’m late and carrying.”
Ryder moves his hand from the back of the couch to my shoulder and up to the side of my face. He wouldn't know that Lil was my daughter because those are some of the pages missing from my case. I left the part that three family members died in a crash, but left out the detailed pieces that mentioned who they were. Aside from two adults and a child. His thumb caresses my cheek softly as he speaks.
“Jesus Elle. I think I’m putting it togeth- ”
The gates have opened and there is no stopping them now. I feel the wet gather in my eyes but I still press on and cut him off with a choked up voice.
“She was beautiful. A lot of people say that about their children but this one, there wasn't a nurse that didn’t maul her at birth she was that damn beautiful. The brightest eyes that soon turned the greenest you’ve ever seen and brown hair like her Dad.”
I close my eyes and feel the wet run down my cheeks. There’s no stopping it, I know. I don’t bother to wipe them because this is only the beginning and there will be a whole lot more.
“Her Dad and I knew we were never meant to be together, but became close enough friends. I respected him and he respected me and we made that work for Lil. She was loved, whether she had two parents under the same roof or not. He moved a street over from mine, both of us still pretty rural in the town we lived and we could walk her back and forth in between visits. It worked.”
I can picture her Dad walking her home, coming up the road with an ice cream in her hand and her stuffed cow in the other.
“I had a doctor’s appointment, one that I didn't need to go to but after I had Lil I had some trouble with my uterus so it was my yearly routine check. I didn't need to go, all was fine. But rescheduling would mean waiting another six months to get back in, so I went. We were scheduled to leave for the airport that afternoon with my parents on a trip to Disneyland.
“Lil was four, she loved fish, cows, and wanted desperately to meet Cinderella. I will forever regret not cancelling my Doctors appointment. I got stuck in traffic due to a derailed train, and after hours of waiting for it to get cleaned up I told my Mom and Dad to take Lil and go ahead without me, I would meet them at the hotel.”
I stop because my nose and throat are thick with emotion and it’s hard enough to breathe, let alone continue to speak.
Ryder pulls the wine glass out of my hand and quickly wraps his arms around me and squeezes me tight.
I’m not sobbing, more like a constant heave to get my breathing back under control. I’ve never told the story; everyone at home knew what happened. I didn't need or want to repeat it again.
“Breathe babe.”
Ryder whispers while rubbing up and down my back. I take air in through my nose, out through my mouth.
“Wh-whe-hen I -”
I’m cut off by Ryder's lips to my neck before he speaks.
“Babe a bit at a time, if you don't want to continue that’s okay.” His soft voice fills my ears.
I need to do this.
“When I got to my mom’s I changed and grabbed my suitcase to leave, when the cops came to the house.”
I press my face into Ryder’s chest and clutch at his shirt.
“My sweet baby girl on her way to meet Cinderella was killed in a car accident after the brakes f-f-failed and the SUV crashed into a tr-tra-transport truck.”
I sob now, heavily. I can’t hold it back and Ryder's arms hold me closer if that's possible.
This is the only reason I’m still here. It feels like it’s the only reason I’m still alive. Not because I fear the man left out there may do to another woman what he did to me. I would be devastated by that but it’s not my reason.
I’m here because in a sick and demented way I live for the fact that if I could get my hands on the person that ended my little girl’s life I will take pride and pleasure in slowly, and painfully taking theirs.
This isn’t just about revenge, this is about justice.
This is about fate.
The fate he earned when he ended the lives of innocent people that were loved beyond measure.
I’ve lived since the attack, knowing their deaths were intentional, knowing that my life's new mission was to inflict pain and death upon the persons responsible for it.
I’ve had nothing left aside from Norma. Laura will go on and one day understands if I were to lose my own life in the process.
I could live with that.
I’ve had no second thoughts.
Before Ryder.
I can’t let him cloud my judgment, my plan. I’ve spent a long time healing to prepare myself for this. I was too weak out of the hospital, and I changed my appearance to not be found and to figure my own shit out before proceeding.
Should I make it out alive, all the better. I would have gone back to my home in North Carolina and sl
ept well at night after taking someone's life, there are no second thoughts, or never were. I am completely okay and don't lose sleep over the thought of killing someone like that.
Why now is Ryder making me rethink my plan? Not the plan to kill, but the part to make certain I come out alive on the other side of it. Before, it was a moot point.
I live, I die, don't matter.
So long as he dies I’ll rest in peace.
Now I want to be here.
“They killed my family Ryder.”
I release on a breath. So low I don’t know if he would hear it.
His hands claim my face and he pulls me out of his chest. His determined eyes zero in on my teary ones and he touches his forehead to mine.
