“You don’t have to promise me anything, darling. I know how hard this must really be. We’ll just try and take it one day at a time. You have every right to want to remember.”
Mama put her arm around me, and I leaned my head on her shoulder as we walked to the car. That night, Ryan came over, and we watched some of the home movies of my sister and me. He’d since seen pictures and such. I’d told him about the videos and promised to let him see them one day. But he never had. These were the only memories I had. In a way, they were better than memories that might fade. At least I could watch them over and over.
Ryan had been in awe about just how much alike my sister and I were. When we were done and I walked Ryan out to his car, he made a statement that surprised me. “Don’t give up on your past, Maggie.
I peered at him, floored. He’d appeared as anxious about my episode as Mama had earlier. “Just because none of your memories have come to you yet, doesn’t mean they never will. And maybe these triggers you get really are random, but who knows? Maybe there is more to it. I know your mom worries about you, but I wouldn’t wanna give up if it were me either. Just going by those videos, your past seems pretty awesome.”
Feeling choked up, I hugged him. The words I love you stuck in my throat. The only times I ever said them to him were when he said he loved me. I really did care about Ryan. So far, except for a few moments of possessiveness, he’d been perfect in every way.
I just couldn’t bring myself to say it to him unless I had to. I wasn’t sure why. Only thing I could think of was that maybe in the past I’d had my heart broken or something. Maybe it’s why I’d been gun shy about becoming intimate and putting it out there the way he did so easily. Since Mama was adamant that I’d never had a boyfriend and because of that explosive argument we’d had the day I told her I was certain I wasn’t a virgin, I hadn’t bothered sharing this with her.
Just before summer, I moved in with Ryan. Mama assured me she’d be fine living alone, and I assured her I’d visit often. We both kept our promises. Ironically, it wasn’t until after moving in with Ryan that I got to see a side of him that wasn’t so perfect. Already, he’d been upset a few times over my relationships with a few of the guys I worked with. I knew he had a possessive side, and we’d argued a few times about it. But it hadn’t been too bad. Then we got together with his friends one night.
I knew in advance two of his friends rode in a motorcycle club. They were who invited us, so it was no surprise to see all the bikes parked in the parking lot of the bar when we arrived. I gulped at the sight and inadvertently was drawn to several. The memory of the classic Harley at the flea market was instantly on my mind.
“That’s a nice one,” Ryan said, pointing to one of the motorcycles in particular as we passed it in the parking lot.
The loud roar of motorcycles arriving and leaving dazed me for some reason. I’d been walking ahead of Ryan and didn’t realize he’d slowed to get a better look at another bike. When I reached the door to the bar, a guy in jeans and a black leather vest with nothing underneath walked out and held the door open for me. My eyes were immediately on the tattoo of a snake on his big shoulder.
There were no flashes that followed. And I didn’t feel that awful ache in my heart, but my heart pounded in reaction to his tattooed arm just the same.
“You like it?”
The question startled me, and I glanced up at his twinkling hazel eyes. “Um, uh,” I said, stammering like an idiot. “It’s nice.”
His entire face smiled. It’s the only way I could explain it. He had one of those smiles where even his eyes seemed to smile along with those lips that were surrounded by facial hair. Even the thick goatee that connected with his mustache didn’t hide the deep indent of the dimple on his cheek. “Thank you. You have a name?”
Gulping hard, I glanced back at Ryan. He was almost there, and I wasn’t sure if he’d heard the exchange, but his arm was already outstretched so I’d take his hand the moment he was close enough. His glare, however, was on the guy.
“Have a good one,” the guy said just as Ryan’s hand slipped into mine.
I nodded, hurrying in as I tugged Ryan along and prayed he didn’t do or say anything stupid. “What’d he say to you?” Ryan asked as soon as we walked into the place.
“I glanced at the tattoo, and he asked if I liked it. I said it was nice, and he thanked me. That’s when you got there.”
Ryan eyed me with a still hardened expression. “Ryan!”
We both turned to see who called out for him and saw several guys and a few couples at a large table over by the corner. The place was huge and packed with guys wearing varied leather vests or jackets, even chaps over their jeans. It was an influx of beards, tattoos, and leather. Even the women at the table with some of his friends wore leather and were covered in tattoos.
Mama hated tattoos. From what she’d told me, so did I, only ironically my reaction had always been to be drawn to them, not necessarily have my heart pounding as it had with the guy at the door. I’d since concluded maybe the past me didn’t care for them but the new me thought they were actually kind of sexy.
A few hours and several beers later, I made a trip to the ladies’ room and, on my way out, ran into the guy who’d held the door for me when we got here.
“We meet again,” he said in the small hallway just outside the ladies’ room.
His entire face smiled again, and the dimple sunk deep into his cheek, but the hazel eyes seemed glazed over like Ryan’s whenever he was buzzed. It’s why I’d stopped drinking over an hour ago and switched to iced tea. I knew I’d be driving home. I smiled, not sure how else to respond to his comment.
“That little pussy you walked in with your boyfriend or husband?”
“That’s rude,” I said, feeling guilty that the way he was looking at me made my heart race.
Unlike Ryan, who smelled of aftershave, soap, or cologne most of the time, this guy smelled like cigarettes, whiskey, and a strangely familiar other scent—leather maybe from the vest he wore. Only as unpleasant as the mixture sounded, I breathed it in deeply, welcoming what had become an alluring scent. In the time I’d been sitting in the bar, I’d been distracted by the same smell from some of the other guys in our area several times.
I didn’t know what to make of it. But I did know continuing to engage with a guy who just called my boyfriend a pussy was not a good idea. I started to walk away and heard him chuckle. “My name’s Sam Dempsey,” he said as I walked off. “You get a craving for a real man, look me up, sweetness.”
I’d been so lost in thought when I got back to the table, I didn’t even notice Ryan staring back toward the area I’d just come from. “That the same guy?”
Turning to face him, I saw he was still glaring in that direction even as his fingers laced into mine. “What?”
He turned, aiming that glare at me this time. “The one you were just talking to. Is he the same guy who was talking to you at the front door?”
I shrugged, trying to make light of it, and reached for my iced tea. “Yeah, he just made a comment about us meeting again.”
“You know him from somewhere?’
“No,” I said, almost annoyed.
“Was he flirting with you?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe. We are at a bar, Ryan. It’s what people do at bars.”
Ryan squeezed my hand—hard. The expression in his eyes went even harder “But you’re not alone.”
“I know I’m not,” I said, trying to loosen my hand from his. “It’s why I wouldn’t flirt back.”
He loosened his hold on my hand but glanced down at it. “You’d tell me if he was trying to make a move, right?”
I didn’t even try to hide my annoyed eye roll. Yeah, I’d tell his drunk aggressive ass. “Maybe you’ve had enough to drink.”
“I’ll fuck him up,” he said, squeezing my hand again only not as hard as the first time.
“You’ve definitely ha
d too much to drink.”
As if on cue, the waitress dropped off another round for the whole table, including shots all around, which I passed on. Ryan downed his then lifted the one they’d brought me. “I haven’t seen my friends in a while. Probably won’t again for at least a few months.”
With that, he downed the second shot and chased it down with his beer. The entire time I’d known Ryan I’d never seen him drunk: a little buzzed at most during the holidays when Mama spiked the eggnog with rum, but nothing like tonight. I started mentioning we should get going soon, but each time, someone would buy him another last one for the road.
The place had gotten a lot louder since we’d arrived. Even the women were cackling loud and a bit obnoxiously. Some of the couples were making out like teenagers right there at the table. “Last one, Ryan.” I said as he finished what was supposed to have been his last and was promptly handed another. “I’m serious.”
He leaned over and planted a sloppy wet kiss on me. I pulled back, annoyed, and grabbed my purse. “When I get back from the ladies’ room, you’re either leaving with me or übering home.”
He waved me off and laughed at something one of the guys said. I hadn’t even walked away, and he was already laughing loudly with his friends. I made a mental note to never agree to this again. I’d only met these friends of his once before, but it was in a different atmosphere. We’d gone to an outdoor festival where there was a lot of other stuff going on aside from just drinking. Ryan was not a pleasant drunk, not that any drunks ever were, but clearly, it made him aggressive. I’d already seen his possessive side. Even sober it wasn’t pretty. There were too many men here whose liquid courage had already had them leering outright at me. The last thing I needed was for Ryan to notice and do something stupid.
Halfway to the bathroom I saw Sam Dempsey by the pool tables, taking his turn. He was a crude-talking biker with no regard for the fact that I was here with someone else. Yet, there was something about him I was drawn to. Not in such a way I’d be stupid enough to do or say anything more to him, it was just a curious draw that had me glancing his way again, even as I walked back from the ladies’ room.
Loud laughter erupted from the table where Ryan sat with his friends. Only Ryan wasn’t there. I glanced around the table and the surrounding areas. My eyes went full circle around the entire bar until they came to rest on Sam. He spotted me, and our eyes locked as he set the pool stick down and rested both hands at the top of the cue.
“What is it with you and this fucker?”
Ryan’s voice at my ear startled me, making me flinch and gasp. But his hand clutching my arm tightly startled me as much as it pissed me off. “You do know him, don’t you?” he hissed in my ear even as I tried to pull away.
“Let go of me, Ryan,” I said through my teeth, trying to pull my arm away, but he held it tight.
“Admit it, Margaret,” he said, yanking me closer to him, his hand still clutching my arm tightly. “You fucking know this guy.”
“Ryan, stop!” I shoved him, not caring about the scene I might make. I’d be damned if I’d let any man bully me.
“Get your hands off her, asshole.”
Ryan’s eyes widened when he saw it was Sam talking to him. Somehow, Sam didn’t seem so big before, but now, he looked huge. “You mind your own fucking business,” Ryan said through his teeth.
“I see a pussy man-handling a woman; I make it my business.”
Security rushed to the fast-crowding area. Ryan’s friends and what appeared to be Sam’s friends had begun to surround us. Some shoving and cussing ensued. The moment Ryan let go of me, I took off.
I rushed furiously through the crowd as fast as I could and out the front door, never once looking back. Without a second thought, I got into the car and left. Let one of his idiot friends give him a ride home.
Chapter 7
Aside from the times Ryan had questioned my friendship with a few of my co-workers, he and I had never argued. The times he questioned me about my co-workers weren’t even arguments. The conversations had just been tense. It was almost sexy, especially because both times we’d ended up having what felt like angry sex, the kind that felt like he was claiming me. Admittedly, it was a turn-on.
But this last time had been anything but a turn-on. His man-handling me as Sam had put it were grounds for his ass getting dumped. I’d made up my mind the moment he grabbed my arm. I still wasn’t over his squeezing my hand the way he had the first time. I didn’t care if it was only the one time. I was not about to wait for something like that to happen again, not just because I was afraid he’d had it in him to do more, but because I’d felt it last night. If he ever did something like that again or worse, I’d go ape shit, for sure. No telling what I might do to him. I’d watched enough episodes of Snapped and, after last night, knew I had it in me to do just that. So, last night I’d gone straight to Mama’s house, refusing to be in the same house with him for even another night. Much less the same bed—ever again.
Even when Mama tried to convince me to at least hear him out the next morning when he showed up bearing flowers, not just for me but for my mother as well, I refused to give in. I’d also seen and treated enough battered women in the emergency rooms and heard the stories all too many times. Once a man sees fit to put his hands on a woman like that, it’s never an isolated incident.
I felt stupid now that I hadn’t put much weight on his previous possessive reactions and his mention that his parents had divorced after his dad had been arrested for domestic violence. Ryan had made it sound like an accident and not like his dad meant to hurt his mom. He said they’d argued and his father had thrown a curling iron in his mom’s direction, not at her. He was just pissed. She’d been wearing shorts, and when the cord hit her leg, it was hard enough to leave a mark on her very fair-skinned legs. She’d immediately called 911 and had him arrested. Then she’d filed for a restraining order and a divorce.
In hindsight, I should’ve questioned his attempts to defend his dad’s arrest as unfounded. His mom was known to overreact, but who files for a restraining order and a divorce from the father of her children over a clear cut unintentional first time injury?
I’d toned down just how hard Ryan had grabbed my arm last night for the sake of not upsetting Mama too much. But after much groveling from Ryan and Mama adding her two cents to get me to budge because she clearly believed Ryan was sorry and would never do it again, I showed them both the bruise I now had on my arm.
They were both stunned silent until Ryan finally shook his head and spoke up. “I’m a fucking idiot.”
“Yeah, you are,” I spat back immediately. “One who won’t ever lay a hand on me again in any way. So, you need to go”—I shoved the roses he’d brought me at him— “before I change my mind about not pressing charges on your ass.”
“No, please,” he said, refusing to take the roses back. “I’ll go now, but please keep the flowers as a token of just how sorry I am.”
Once he was gone, Mama demanded to know the truth about the argument we’d had.
“It was exactly how I told you it happened,” I said, dropping the flowers on her coffee table as I walked back to the kitchen to where I’d been having breakfast before Ryan showed up. “I just left out how hard he’d held onto my arm when he was demanding answers.”
I told her about how he’d squeezed my hand earlier, his other possessive instances, and about his parents. By the time we were done eating, we were in full agreement. No matter how perfect Ryan seemed on the outside, the man had issues. My heart just wasn’t invested enough in him to want to stick around and help him deal with them.
Wasting no time, by the end of the day, I’d rented a truck and had my stuff moved out of his place. He apologized the whole time Mama and I packed up my things, and said he’d be going to counseling to help with his behavior. Then he begged me to not cut him off completely. He was going to work hard on his issues so that he’d be worthy of being with me someday again.
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I agreed to still being friends while he got help just so I could get out of there, but I didn’t promise him more than that. I had serious doubts he’d do anything that would actually change his behavior. A part of me drove away, sad that my life had so abruptly been changed once again. But another part of me was thankful that I at least had proof now that I could have a serious relationship with someone.
A few weeks later, I was scheduled four days off straight with no plans. With Ryan out of my life, I’d begun to reconnect with my friend from nursing school, Clarisse. I hadn’t really chatted with her in a while until after I broke things off with Ryan.
The first chance I got to talk to her long enough to really catch up was beyond refreshing. Instantly, I remembered why I liked Clarisse so much. She was always so bubbly and animated. She filled me in on the god-awful job she’d been working at a hospice just before she’d gotten hired there at the hospital where I worked. She’d had trouble with her state boards and failed the test to get her RN license twice. So, she’d been stuck cleaning geriatric ass for the past year.
I laughed, remembering when I’d had to do my time, only that had been in school for me. As soon as I got my license, I applied straight to hospitals. No hospices for me. We talked a little about our jobs and what exactly each of us were doing now. I told her about Ryan and how I’d been living with him until that night at the bar.
Last I’d talked to her, she’d thought everything about Ryan was so perfect, so she was very surprised by the turn of events. She told me a little about the guy she’d started dating a few months ago then ended up dumping when she found out he considered their relationship an open one and was seeing two other girls as well.
She knew all about the triggers and my not having any memory beyond the day I woke at the hospital. Clarisse thought the whole thing was fascinating and agreed with what Ryan had said after the one at the flea market: that I shouldn’t stop trying to remember.
Girl In The Mirror (Looking Glass Book 1) Page 6
