by Rose, Ranae
“You were in Afghanistan a year ago?”
He nodded. “It was just after I turned twenty-five that I got caught in that IED explosion. A couple months after that the Marine Corps decided I wasn’t fit for duty anymore and I was honorably discharged for medical reasons.”
“Because of your TBI?”
“Yeah. That and my leg. You know how it gets stiff when I haven’t moved it for a while. Not a big deal at home, but at war it could be the difference between life and death.”
“Do you regret having been discharged – I mean, would you rather still be in the Marine Corps?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes I think so, other times I’m not so sure. I didn’t completely realize what I was getting into when I enlisted. Don’t know if anyone does. I guess you could say it was a love-hate relationship. But life since then has been… I don’t know. I feel like I’m just existing instead of really living. At least then I had a purpose, even if it was one I was ordered to have.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re existing here, in Baltimore.” Though they’d known each other for less than a month, the thought of never having met him made her feel strangely empty inside. He could easily have gone somewhere else – anywhere else, really.
“I don’t feel that way when I’m with you.”
“What – like you’re just existing?”
“Yeah. When you’re around, I feel alive. Like I’m living in real time again instead of watching everything pass by.”
A distinct warmth rose up inside Ally, sudden and effervescent. “Really?”
“Yeah. When I first laid eyes on you during my first day at Knockout, it was like something that had been missing for the past year or so just clicked into place. I wanted something – someone. It was a good feeling. When I was in Afghanistan, I wanted to come home. When I did, it wasn’t like I’d thought it would be. And then I didn’t want anything, really, because I didn’t know what to want. Until I saw you.”
The heat his words had kindled inside her rose to the surface, tinting her cheeks with color she could feel. The idea of being the first to capture his attention, to make him feel desire after all that time… It was mind-boggling, really. And hands-down the most flattering thing anyone had ever said to her.
“I didn’t realize…” Her tongue seemed to tie itself in knots as she thought back to when they’d first met, when she’d tried to suppress her physical attraction to him in favor of viewing him with the same careful suspicion with which she regarded all strange men.
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t tell you that then,” he said, finally scooping the omelet from the pan and sliding it onto a dinner plate. “You would’ve thought I was crazy.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy now,” she said firmly.
“Good to know.” He cut the omelet down the middle with his spatula and slid one half onto a second plate. “Here.”
She took it from him, inhaling warm air spiced with the scents of peppers, tomatoes and the other ingredients they’d stirred into the eggs.
They settled down at the table and she cut into her omelet with the side of her fork, her mind still buzzing with the pleasant sense of surprise his words had evoked. It wasn’t untainted, though – there was also the ever-present knowledge of how lonely the past months must have been for him. As flattering as it was to hear him make it sound like she’d broken – sort of – some kind of evil spell, that didn’t mean she was happy he’d had to suffer in the first place.
“Maybe you could come over to my place tomorrow,” she said, laying her fork down on the edge of her plate. “I could cook a belated birthday dinner for you.”
“As long as you don’t think I’d be intruding.”
“You wouldn’t be. It’s just me and my mother, and she likes you.”
“Does she?” He raised his eyebrows as if surprised.
“You’ve been a hero in her eyes ever since you rescued Melissa from those creeps.”
“All right. I guess you can get in some driving practice on the way over. We’ll have to pick the mustang up from my work’s lot though – it’s still there.”
For what seemed like the hundredth time, she was deeply glad she’d gone ahead and gotten a learner’s permit. Thanks to it, she could drive without guilt. “Okay. Maybe we can go out and get you a new phone first.”
He nodded. “I don’t want to be unable to get in touch with you.”
A weight Ally hadn’t realized was present disappeared from her shoulders. The idea of not being able to reach Ryan, and vice-versa, hadn’t been one she’d savored, especially in light of his recent accident.
When they finished eating, he rose from his seat and stood behind hers, wrapping his uninjured arm around her from behind and letting his hand rest on her breast, his fingers conforming to its curve. “You’re still planning to stay the night, right?”
Something in his voice made her core tighten as she remembered the time they’d so recently spent together in his bed. “Yes.”
* * * * *
Ally entered the house with several grocery bags dangling from one arm and her keys gripped in her opposite hand. “Hi, mamá.” She’d called her mother that morning and shared her plans to cook a birthday dinner for Ryan, so it wasn’t like their arrival was unexpected.
“Hi, mija. Do you need help carrying in groceries?”
“No, Ryan’s got the rest.”
He entered the house behind her, managing the rest of the groceries with his good arm.
“What are you making?” Maria eyed the bags as Ally and Ryan set them down on the kitchen table.
“Shrimp fajitas – Ryan says those are one of his favorite foods. Plus I picked up things to make a salad and a cake. I’m going to start the cake first so it will be baked and cooled in time for me to ice it so we can eat it tonight.”
“Do you want some help?”
“That’s all right – you can just relax. I’ll cook tonight. It’s been a while since I’ve made dinner, anyway.”
Maria lingered in the kitchen, making a cup of tea and sitting down across from Ryan at the table to sip it.
“Is something wrong, mamá?” As Ally whipped a whisk through a bowl of chocolate batter, she could detect the faint aroma of chamomile. Her mother only drank chamomile tea when she was upset.
Maria set her cup down on the table, looking guilty. “I thought we could talk about it later – I didn’t want to put a damper on the celebration.”
“Is it something serious?” Ally poured the cake batter into a greased glass pan. Heat from the oven caressed her face and made her eyes sting as she opened it and slipped the cake inside. “I mean, if it’s something I need to know…” Her stomach lurched as she thought of her father. “It’s not about papá, is it?” It had been a daily fear of hers since age seventeen that she’d come home to bad news about her father.
“No, no,” Maria hurried to say, raising her tea cup again.
“If you need to talk to Ally, don’t let me stop you,” Ryan said. “You won’t be spoiling anything. And if you need me to leave—”
“No, no,” Maria repeated. “There’s no need for you to leave.” She shot him an apologetic glance. “It’s about Manny.”
“Did he show up again while I was gone?” Ally gripped the handle of a cast iron skillet, her heart climbing into her throat instead of staying in her chest where it belonged. What had Manny done to upset their mother now?
Maria nodded. “He dropped off the bridesmaid dress Inés picked out for you. It’s on your bed.”
“And?” Even if the dress was ugly, no way would Maria be drinking chamomile tea because of that.
“He had a long cut running down one arm. And a smaller one on his jaw. I think they were from knives.”
Ally’s stomach twisted with unease. “Did he say that?”
“No. When I asked him what happened, he told me I didn’t need to worry about it.”
“Well…” Ally began carving a bell pepper into long slivers. She
couldn’t just tell her mother to heed Manny’s advice and not worry about it. Especially not when a part of her was worrying, too. “He probably just didn’t want to upset you.”
“Well, he did.” Maria picked up the tag on the end of the string that hung over the edge of her teacup and fiddled with it. Her expression was wistful. “I wish he’d forget about Carlos and the rest of them.”
“That’s not going to happen.” Ally strove to keep her voice firm without being harsh. “Sorry, mamá, but people don’t just walk away from that lifestyle. Not anyone who’s second in command, anyway.” It was something she’d told herself over and over again after Manny had betrayed them. She’d mentally repeated the mantra at least a thousand times in an attempt to deaden the sisterly feelings a part of her had still harbored for Manny.
“Your father did.” Maria’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
“That was different.” Surprise flared in Ally’s heart – had her mother really been thrown so off-kilter by Manny’s return that she’d compare him to her father? “Papá never wanted to live that sort of life. He was young when Carlos manipulated him into getting involved.”
Her father had resented every last one of his older brother’s commands, threats and twisted promises. “And he regretted what he’d done.” It had always broken her heart to think of her father as a young man – a boy, really – forced to take a reluctant hand in his brother’s illegal activities, most of which involved the selling of drugs. “Manny chose his path even after papá’s warnings.”
Their father had raised her and Manny to abhor gang and drug-related activity and had always kept them away from their uncle Carlos.
But Carlos had watched like a predator, waiting for a moment of weakness. Her father’s arrest and subsequent imprisonment had been just that. Whether Carlos had targeted Manny as a way of exacting revenge against the younger brother who’d refused to have anything to do with him or for some other reason, Ally would probably never know. But either way, Manny had taken the bait and the deed was done – the person he was now had been forged by crime and corruption.
“You’re right,” Maria said. “I just wish he’d change his mind.”
It was too late for that, but Ally refrained from pointing that out again. It wasn’t like she could blame her mother for wishing. “If you don’t mind, maybe you could help me by making the salad? I guess I underestimated how long preparing the fajitas would take me.” It wasn’t true, but it was definitely a white lie. Maria had crumpled the paper tag on the end of her tea bag’s string into a little ball and looked desperate for something else to do with her hands.
“Of course.” Maria rose, pulled the salad vegetables from the grocery bags and began washing, shredding and cutting them with ease.
It soothed Ally’s nerves to see her mother busy, looking a little less stressed as she dropped pieces of torn lettuce into a glass bowl.
Ally looked over her shoulder at Ryan, who’d silently weathered the conversation, sitting in his chair at the kitchen table. Sorry she tried to say with her eyes.
He shrugged faintly, as if to tell her not to worry about it.
Still, she felt bad. Forcing him to listen in on her family problems didn’t exactly scream happy birthday.
“So how old are you now, Ryan?” Maria asked, her tone surprisingly light. “Ally never mentioned which birthday you’re celebrating this year.”
“Twenty-six,” he replied, shifting in his seat and raising his injured arm so that his cast rested on the table.
“Oh? So you’re only a couple years older than Ally. I didn’t think you two were too far apart in age.” She kept going, keeping Ryan engaged in small talk as she worked.
It was a relief to hear the two talking. The conversation wasn’t anything particularly exciting, but it was better than silence or talking about Manny. Much better.
It wasn’t long before the fajitas were done. When the shrimp and vegetables were sizzling in the skillet and a stack of tortillas had been warmed, Ally set the table with plates and silverware, pausing to pull the cake from the oven when the timer beeped.
Dinner went well. Ryan said he loved the fajitas and there were no more mentions of Manny. It was far from a wild party, but it was undeniably nice. Especially compared to the way Ryan had spent the majority of his actual birthday the day before.
When they’d finished dinner, Ally put on a pot of coffee and began whipping up a bowl of icing for the cake. On the way to the grocery store, she’d asked Ryan what kind of cake he liked best. Chocolate with peanut butter icing had been his answer, so that was exactly what she intended to make.
She’d never made peanut butter icing before, but it came out smooth and creamy – a good sign, hopefully. She applied it to the cake with a spatula as the coffeemaker finished filling the pot with a gurgling hiss.
“Cake’s ready.” She turned to set it on the table. “Do you want coffee, Ryan?”
“Yeah, sure.”
She pulled three mugs from a cupboard and poured. “You like yours black, right? Or…” The night she’d seen him drink it that way, he’d been ill and had had a couple of cups in an effort to lessen the effects of a migraine. Maybe that wasn’t how he usually liked it.
“Right.”
She handed him a cup and got a little cream out of the fridge for her mother, who always put it in her coffee.
“Hey mamá, do we have any candles? Like the kind for cakes?”
“In the cupboard next to the stove.”
Ally opened the cupboard. Sure enough, behind a few bottles of vitamins and a half-used package of double A batteries, there was a package of thin wax candles, white with multi-colored stripes spiraling up their slender bodies. She grabbed the package along with a lighter that lay beside it.
“You don’t have to put candles on the cake,” Ryan protested as she approached the table again.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” she said, pulling several candles from the package and inserting them into the peanut butter icing. “Without candles, it’s just an ordinary cake. I don’t think I have twenty-six, but I’ll add a handful to make it an official birthday cake.”
She lit the candles and they burnt bright, casting light and flickering shadows over the surface of the icing. “Blow them out before the wax starts to drip onto the icing. Unless you want us to sing happy birthday first?”
He leaned forward quickly. “That’s all right.” In his next breath, he blew out the candles.
“Happy birthday,” Ally said, leaning in and wrapping her arms around his neck. It was the sort of happy birthday wish she’d wanted to give him in the first place – not a text message that reflected the uncertainty Saturday had left her with.
“Thanks.” He turned his head, letting his lips brush her ear. He’d shaved that morning, so his stubble was gone, but the hard line of his jaw inspired butterflies to burst into flight inside her stomach anyway.
“Happy birthday,” Maria echoed.
A little heat crept into Ally’s cheeks. She and Ryan definitely weren’t alone. Reluctantly, she loosened her embrace, withdrawing her arms from around his neck.
She cut a piece of the cake for Ryan, who said that it was amazing.
His compliment made her feel like she was glowing from the inside, a feeling he had a way of sparking within her. It was so easy to be happy when he seemed happy, even if it was just because of a cake she’d made. No one else’s feelings had so easily and frequently influenced hers before.
So when they finished the cake and coffee and Maria left the room, she noticed the thoughtful, almost unhappy set of his mouth as he lowered his empty coffee cup.
“Is something wrong?”
Chapter 21
“I was thinking about your brother,” he said, his expression unchanging.
“Sorry about that. My mother can’t help worrying about him, even after all he’s done.” Not that she liked the idea of Manny getting into a knife fight – or whatever had transpired and w
ounded him – either.
He shook his head. “No, I understand that. I was thinking about how he’s started coming around here again. I’m afraid he’ll bring that sort of violence to your doorstep.”
Despite how full she was from dinner, cake and coffee, Ally’s stomach balled up. It wasn’t like she hadn’t considered what Manny’s visits could mean. “That’s why we didn’t want him to come around in the first place. His lifestyle… We know it can be dangerous.”
“But you agreed to be in his wedding.” It was a statement, not a question. The way he leveled his gaze at Ally as he spoke made her wonder whether he’d been brooding over the matter during the entire dinner.
“I didn’t know what else to do. He just keeps showing up, you know?”
Ryan leaned across the table, his gaze still locked with hers. “And you and your mother – you let him in. You agree to be a part of his life. And you endanger yourselves by accepting his presence in yours.”
“You make it sound simpler than it really is. You don’t know what he’s like. If we didn’t let him in, he’d stand on our doorstep until we did. He wouldn’t just go away. When he wants something, he’s persistent.”
“So?” A familiar tendon had popped up on the side of Ryan’s neck. “Look, I know he’s put you both in a tough situation, but you can’t just let him endanger you. He showed up at your house this morning with wounds from a knife fight. What if the person who gave him those wounds follows him here next time?”
“His injuries might have been from something else,” Ally protested. “My mother is just guessing.”
Ryan gave her a hard look. “Why are you defending him? Is this because of what we talked about – is it because you feel guilty over what he claims to have done for you? Because if it is—”
Ally recoiled as if she’d been slapped. “Stop it, Ryan. I don’t want to talk about that right now.” Or ever, really. It hadn’t been easy to share those things with him in the first place. “I just—”
“I’m just worried about you,” he said, reaching across the table with his good hand and seizing one of hers, wrapping her fingers in a tight embrace.
