by L A Cotton
Ryan.
What I felt for him wasn’t love—that much I knew. But I couldn’t deny I felt something for him. It made no sense. I couldn’t explain it, or even define it, but losing Lucas had tethered us in a way I never saw coming. And sitting here, part of me wanted to make Carol and Peter see how much losing Lucas had affected Ryan. That they needed to put the past behind them and be there for one another.
But I was a coward. I didn’t want to cause them any more grief. And besides, it had been four days since I left the motel, and I’d not seen or heard anything from Ryan.
“Mila.” Carol’s voice pulled me back into the room, and I sniffled, dragging my sleeve across my face.
“I just wanted to clear the air with you guys. I’ve been trying to find the right words-”
“Shh, honey, what’s done is done. We all deal with grief in our own way. It doesn’t change anything. He’ll be there whenever you’re ready to say goodbye.”
“Ho- how did you know?”
“Call it a mother’s intuition. But Mila, honey, you must know that saying goodbye to him doesn’t mean letting go. Lucas will always be with you. Always.”
Was she right? Would I be able to stand in front of his headstone and say goodbye and still remember? Was that really what terrified me? Saying goodbye was one thing, but accepting he was gone was another. Because accepting Lucas was gone was accepting that I had to live my life without him.
That I had to move on.
“I know.” My voice came out small. “I’m just not sure I’m ready. Not yet.”
“No one is rushing you, honey. You’ll know when it’s time.” Carol pressed a kiss to my cheek and squeezed my hand. “If you want to go up to his room, we’ll give you some space.”
Did I?
I glanced between Carol and Peter and nodded. “Maybe; just for a little while.”
~
Lucas’s room was silent. Just as when I’d visited in the days before the funeral, everything remained untouched. One of his Vanderbilt hoodies hung on the back of his chair, his backpack still neatly placed in the corner of the room, and his smell lingered in the air. As I sat there, perched on the edge of his bed, I half expected him to burst out of the small bathroom attached to his bedroom wrapped in a towel, his hair still damp from the water. The pain swelled in my chest, but at the same time, I found my lips curving up in a slight smile. It was a memory I had in endless quantities. Sitting on the bed, I would wait for him to take a shower before we headed out to wherever we were going—the movies, a party, or just out to the lake. I’d lived that moment over and over. He’d shake out his hair all over me, and I’d shriek trying to escape the water droplets.
Only this time he wasn’t coming.
He’d never be coming out of that door again.
Ever.
Oh, Lucas.
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, biting back the tears. I didn’t want to cry again, not here. Moving from the bed, I went to the corkboard hanging above the desk. Covered with photos of our friends, his family, and us, I let my fingers run over the images, soaking in the memories. Lingering over a photo of Ryan and Lucas, I tried to place the image. Dressed in his usual jeans and black molded tee, Ryan hung his arm loosely over Lucas’s shoulder, who stared up at his older brother with a huge grin on his face. They might have been chalk and cheese, but Ryan and Lucas were close.
I’d never understood their relationship, not really. They were so different, and even though Lucas was younger, in a way, he’d always looked out for Ryan. Especially in the time leading up to when he left Radeno. But that was Lucas—he always saw the good in everyone. And Ryan was no different. Like the time he’d stolen Denby Darquette’s rusty Buick and had gone joyriding on the outskirts of town. Lucas and I were only twelve, but that didn’t stop him from trying to persuade Carol and Peter—mainly Peter—not to come down on Ryan like a ton of bricks. Or the time Ryan was arrested for fighting in his senior year. Lucas had burst into the principal’s office in defense of his brother. Trouble followed Ryan, and Lucas wasn’t ever far behind trying to help fix his big brother’s messes. Of course, it rarely made a difference; but Ryan loved Lucas for it. Loved him for seeing past the brooding, rebellious kid with a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas.
Ryan was the black sheep of the Gennery family, and I'd never questioned it. It was what it was. But I'd seen a different side to Ryan the other night in the motel. I'd glimpsed a guy who was unafraid to break down and wear his heart on his sleeve. Sure, when he'd pulled back his sheets and invited me into his bed, part of me thought he wanted something else entirely. Because until losing Lucas, I'd seen Ryan as the rule-breaking bad boy everyone else in town saw him as. But we were older now, and years had passed since he left Radeno. Time could change a person.
Couldn't it?
~
When I left the Gennery's and returned home, I didn't expect to find two old friends sitting in my living room sipping tea with Mom. The way they had both jumped out of their chairs and rushed over to me would have been acceptable for old friends, given the circumstances, but Harriet Dressen and Sarah Larkin were barely my acquaintances back in high school.
“Oh, Mila Jean, we were so sorry to hear about Lucas. Isn't that right, Sarah?” Harriet drawled in a sickly sweet voice as I shot Mom an irritated look.
“Sarah and Harriet wanted to stop by and offer their condolences. Isn’t that sweet?” She shook her head curtly in my direction and then ushered the two intruders to sit again. They obliged, leaving me standing in the doorway awkwardly. The last thing I wanted to do was sit and pretend with the likes of Sarah and Harriet, but from the twinkle in Mom’s eye, I could already see the wheels turning. She thought this was just what I needed; a friend intervention. Only, I wouldn’t have been friends with the likes of these two back in high school if you paid me.
“The sweetest,” I ground out, smiling widely.
“Mila,” Mom scolded me under her breath, but I just shrugged. This wasn’t some game; it was my life.
Harriet glanced between the two of us and then shuffled forward. “We thought, Sarah and I, that you probably needed cheering up. How does a girls’ night sound?”
“Girls’ night? Are you fucking kidding me?” I threw up my hands, wide-eyed with anger bubbling under the surface, looking between the three of them. “You do know we weren’t even friends in high school, right?”
“Mila-”
“No, Mom. I have had it with people thinking they know what’s best for me. Lucas. Is. Dead. He isn’t coming back. Ever. Somehow, I don’t think a girls’ night with the mean girl sisters over there is going to make me feel better.”
Harriet gasped, and a sliver of regret started to coil around my heart. Maybe I’d been a little too harsh. I mean, I hadn’t even heard them out. For all I knew, they genuinely wanted to... No, girls like Sarah Larkin and Harriet Dressen didn’t think about anyone but themselves. No four years in college would fix that.
“Thanks for the offer.” I smirked at them both. I knew I looked ugly in that split second, but the damage was done. “But I’ll need to take a rain check. I’m sure you can appreciate how it is when you’re mourning your dead best friend.”
It was Mom’s turn to gasp while Sarah and Harriet sat slack-jawed staring at me as if they didn’t recognize me. Hell, I didn’t recognize myself. Who was this person?
A laugh ripped from me, and I turned and left them, heading for my room.
~
Slumped against my door, I had listened to Mom apologize on my behalf before saying goodbye to Sarah and Harriet. I waited, listening for her footsteps on the stairs, but the sound never came. She was probably too embarrassed—or angry—to face me right now.
And I didn’t blame her.
I thought I’d gotten a better hold on my emotions. I’d made some kind of peace with Carol and Peter and made an effort to visit Betty at The Lasso. And I hadn’t seen Ryan again. Although that was more his choice than m
ine. I was doing better.
Since losing Lucas, something had changed in me, but I didn’t know what exactly. I didn’t want to think about it. But something ugly was growing inside me. Maybe it was simply the anger phase of grieving. Maybe lashing out at those around me was my way of working through stuff.
But they deserved it, a little voice whispered. So Sarah and Harriet weren’t exactly my BFFs in high school. They ran with the popular crowd, while I stuck to Lucas and our small group of friends. But time could change people—I’d said it about Ryan, hadn’t I? Maybe they genuinely wanted to offer their condolences and offer their friendship.
Frustrated, I curled my hand into my hair and yanked slightly. Why did I even care what their motives were? Lucas was gone, and nothing was going to change that. Making friends with Sarah and Harriet, finding comfort in Ryan, picking up shifts at the bar—none of it mattered.
Because losing your best friend in the entire world did change you.
And now, I had to figure out who I was without him.
Chapter 8
“HOW YOU HOLDING up, darlin’?” Betty barreled into the kitchen, hands full of dirty plates.
“I’m okay.” My feet hurt like a bitch, and my black tee stuck to me like a second skin, but I was okay.
“It’s crazy out there.” She leaned around me and dumped the plates into the sink, causing suds to splash my shirt. “We could really use a spare pair of hands out front.”
“I- I don’t know, Betty. You said I could stay back here.”
“And you can. It’d just make my life a darn sight easier if I had someone out front who actually knew what the hell they were doing.”
Rubbing the back of my hand across my damp forehead, I squeezed my eyes shut. It wasn’t Betty’s intention to guilt me into it; it was just her way. She spoke first then thought about it later.
“Hmm, sure, I guess I can. For a little while.”
“Atta girl. Anyone even looks at you wrong, you come straight to me, got it? Now grab a clean shirt from the locker and take the back section.”
Betty disappeared through the swinging door, and I rinsed my hands and went in search of a shirt. For the next two hours, all I had to do was take orders, smile, and serve tables. As long as no one asked me any questions about Lucas or threw me too many pity glances, I could get through one shift.
~
An hour into service, things started to quiet down. Booths emptied and were replaced with the odd guy or couple out for a drink. Old men sat propped at the bar watching ESPN on the flat screen above the bar. I carried out my duties and kept my head down, but as I headed toward the back of the bar, the hairs along my neck electrified.
My eyes found him immediately, sitting in the booth in the darkest corner of the bar. His stormy eyes burned into me, anger swirling in their depths. The intensity caused me to suck in a sharp breath. Ryan didn't move or flinch or make any effort to beckon me over. He just stared.
And then I noticed her.
The petite blonde curled into his side.
I hadn't seen her before, too entranced by him and the darkness surrounding him. He wore it like a cloak, shielding him, keeping me out. Pain twisted on his face, and I wanted to go to him and wrap him in my arms the way I had at the motel.
But then she curled her arm around his and leaned in close to his ear.
He didn't look away from me.
The blonde continued to whisper something—I didn't need to take two guesses at what—but he remained, eyes locked on mine, unmoving.
“Mila.” Stephanie, the other waitress, penetrated my trance, and I blinked twice before turning to her. “Yes?”
“Are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”
No, not a ghost.
Ryan was all too real, and he was leaving with the blonde.
My heart plummeted, and I barged past Stephanie to get out of here. I rushed through the swinging door and called, “I'm taking five.”
Betty wouldn't ask questions.
No one would.
Not of the girl barely holding on by a thread.
~
I moved through the last hour of my shift in a daze. Everyone left me alone, which was no doubt Betty's doing. I cleaned tables, collected glasses, and stacked them in the wash area, but my mind was elsewhere.
When I'd first laid eyes on Ryan, relief replaced some of the anxiety that had taken up permanent residency in me. Sure, I could tell he was pissed—he had every right to be. But he was here. I could apologize, clear the air. But then I'd spotted the pretty blonde sidled up to him, and my heart cracked.
I hadn't thought it possible since it was already shattered from losing Lucas.
But I'd felt it.
The deep sense of rejection and hurt right where my heart lay.
“You can take off, Mila, darlin’. I'll see you tomorrow.”
I jumped, clutching my chest. “Shit, you scared the crap out of me, Betty.”
Her deep laughter filled the space between us, and she said, “Go on now, or I'll change my mind and make you work the twilight shift.”
I followed her line of sight to the gray-haired guy slumped over the bar.
“Can't you just call him a cab?”
“Old Brantley Ray is harmless. He's as lonely as a mule put out to pasture. I'll let him drink away his sorrows for another hour.”
“Okay. I'll see you next week, I guess.”
I grabbed my purse from my locker and left the bar. It was late, past eleven. Mom had tried to insist that Dad pick me up, but I had refused. I needed to clear my head.
The air was cool, but I welcomed it, enjoying the way it felt against my clammy skin. The Lasso was only two blocks from my house, and part of me wished it were farther. My run-in with Ryan had left me more confused than ever.
“You left.”
I spun around, my eyes searching the darkness for him. “Ryan?”
And then I saw him in the alley between the bar and the store.
“You left,” he repeated, stepping forward into the sliver of light from the lamppost. The same storm was still raging in his eyes from earlier.
“You were with someone? Tonight, at the bar. Who is she?”
“Does it matter?” He inched closer, and I sucked in a sharp breath, my heart hammering against my chest.
“Why did you leave?” Ryan was standing only feet away from me now. His eyes were cold as they pierced me, but I held his stare. “Why were you with her?”
His lip curved in a smirk giving his usual brooding face an even darker edge. “Really, Mila, you want to go down that road? Do you want to hear how I took her back to that motel and fucked her?”
“You bastard,” I whispered, my words almost lost in the breeze.
“You. Left. Me.”
This was getting us nowhere, so with a frustrated sigh, I said, “Go home, Ryan.”
He didn't move.
“Fine, I'll go.” I turned to leave, but his hand caught my arm. “Stay.”
“Why?” I didn't turn back around. I couldn't.
“Because I need you.”
I paused and then ever so slowly turned to face Ryan. We were closer now, almost face to face. The storm in his eyes had calmed somewhat, simmering with something else. He reached for me, brushing a stray hair out of my face, setting off a million tingles under my skin.
“What is happening between us, Mila?”
“I- I don't know.”
I didn't.
I had no idea. All I knew was that seeing him with another girl had cut deep, and for a split second, I'd wanted to be the one pressed up next to him.
Ryan's fingers remained on my jaw. He tilted my face up slightly and studied me.
I couldn't move.
I couldn't breathe.
“Rya-”
His finger slid to my lip cutting me dead. I gulped.
“I need you, Mila.”
I nodded. It wasn't a question or a command; it just was.
Ryan
interlinked our fingers and started walking back toward the bar. On the other side was a small parking lot, and when we passed The Lasso, my eyes found his car.
I had a million questions zipping through my head, but now was not the time.
By the time we reached Ryan's car, the tension between us was almost unbearable. But nothing compared to the atmosphere as he drove us to the outskirts of town again and parked outside the motel.
“This is where you've been staying?”
Ryan nodded, climbed out of the car, and came around to open the door for me.
As I stepped out, our arms brushed sending shivers rippling through me. We walked to the room in silence. Ryan unlocked the door and stepped inside, the lights from outside casting shadows over his figure. He met my eyes as I stood paralyzed in the doorway. The unspoken question sparkled in his eyes.
If I stepped inside, everything would change.
There would be no going back from this.
He waited, still watching me. I took a deep breath and stepped inside. The door banged shut behind me, and I jumped. Ryan watched me, his eyes shining in the soft glow from outside.
“Did you bring her here?”
I didn't know why I asked, but I needed time to think, to try to form a coherent thought, and those five words just spilled out.
“Is that what you think of me, Mila? You left me, remember?”
His voice was quiet. Unsure.
“I- I'm sorry, okay. I was confused and scared and hungover. And what are we doing Ryan? You're Luca-”
He flinched. “Don't. Don’t say his name. Not here, not now.” Ryan closed the space between us, but I stepped back instinctively. My back hit the door, and I flattened my palms against the wood.
“Ryan, wait ...”
He was in front of me now. Looking down at me, he was so close I could feel his breath.
Ryan’s hand buried itself into my hair, anchoring me to him, and he touched his forehead to mine. “Tell me to stop, Mila. Tell me that this is wrong, that you don’t want this. Tell me right now and I'll stop. I'll walk away.”
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. Ryan dipped his mouth lower until our lips were almost touching. He whispered, “I can't fight this, Mila. I know I should, but I can't.”
