by C. M. Owens
“You love the hell out of my boy,” he says with a grin that touches his brown eyes—Rye’s eyes.
How does he know that?
“Why are you here?” I ask in an embarrassing, rasp whisper.
He motions toward a bench at the far corner, and I follow him, happy to sit before my legs give out. He waits for me to sit down first, and then he joins me as he stares straight ahead.
“My son is going to come after you. He won’t leave you alone. When he wants something, he usually gets it. But you can’t take him back.”
Weirdest. Morning. Ever.
“He’s not trying to get me back. He’s only trying to smooth things over between us so that we can be... um... friends again.”
I’m so not laying out the sordid details of my screwed up relationship with Rye to his father.
He smiles weakly. “Ethan called me this morning. Rye is breaking down. It’ll start soon. But until he’s ready to tell you everything—to completely open himself up—this thing between the two of you won’t work. So if you love him, you’ll make him break. Otherwise, you’ll stay in this loop—he’ll hurt you, you’ll cry, he’ll return, and you’ll take him back. It’s a vicious cycle. I’ve been in a loop of my own for years. You’re the only hope that boy has, and I want you to do what no one else can.”
What the damn hell is going on?
“What is that?”
He looks at me with tears in his eyes, and says, “Make him forgive himself and move on.”
He stands suddenly, and he leans down and kisses my head while I sit in a silent stupor.
“He loves you already,” he says on a sigh. But I know this. Rye just won’t admit it. He doesn’t want to love me, and that hurts worse than him actually not loving me. “But he won’t be strong enough to embrace it until he’s strong enough to forgive.”
Damn Miyagi bullshit. What does that even mean?
“You’re wrong. He doesn’t want to love me, and he’s never going to try. It’s not me. I’m not his one person. I tried to be. I wanted to be. But I’m not.” He wouldn’t be able to fight me if I was.
He swallows the knot in his throat as a tear rolls down his cheek, and my heart clenches at the sight. He doesn’t have to worry about me taking Rye back too soon, because I wouldn’t take him back even if he begged me. I’m ruined as it is. I’d be a shadow of myself if I went through this hell more than once.
“If his formative years had gone better, he would probably already be proposing to you, and none of this would be going on. Trust me. He loves you just as much as you love him. He came to see me on his own, and he talked. He didn’t just yell; he opened up and shared something that must have been killing him for years. That’s the first time he’s ever done that. He wants to move on. Until you, he’s never wanted to move forward. For the first time, he sees the future instead of just the past.”
I sit back as he leaves, but I don’t say anything. I’m so damn confused. What is it with the men in their family?
***
BRIN
As always, I avoid looking at Rye’s house, not even looking at it through my peripheral, but I don’t have to look over there. He’s on my front porch, standing as I walk up my sidewalk very slowly.
This day sucks.
“Hey,” he says softly, tucking his hands into his pockets as I near him.
“Hi.” The simple, short, clipped response is a warning to just go back across the street.
“Can we talk?” he asks as he comes closer, ignoring my warning tone.
I choke back a sob and shake my head as the tears try to fall.
He exhales a slow breath while coming to stand directly in front of me, and he takes both sides of my face into his warm hands as he tilts my head up to meet his eyes. Those browns aren’t icy anymore. This is the Rye I love. It’s also the one who I don’t want to be in this loop with, because I won’t survive it.
He tried getting rid of me that night on the beach. He tried warning me over and over. But I fought and lied and clawed my way into his life. Now I have to fight just as hard to step out.
“What’s there to talk about?” I ask, trying to look away, but he holds my face still in his hands.
“You and me—we’re both miserable. I miss you, Brin. So much.”
His father knows him pretty damn well. But I made my resolve long before Rygan Clanton offered me his advice. He just cemented my decision.
“I miss you, too. But until you’re ready to tell me what’s fucked you all up, then what’s the point?”
I’m proud of the strength of my voice, and I’m really proud of the fact my heart stays in my chest when his eyes sadden. But it hurts to see him refusing me before the words even come out.
“None of that matters. I just want to be with you. Can’t that be enough?”
I want to scream yes and roar no. My own mind is becoming as contradictory and confusing as he is.
“I wish. Do you love me? Will you ever allow yourself to love me? Will you take off for days at a time when you feel yourself getting too close?” I ask, and his hands drop to his sides.
“Go out with me tonight,” he says, intentionally ignoring my questions. Like father, like son. “Just the two of us.”
“No,” I say, pushing by him on my way to the house.
“Why not?” he growls, following me to the door.
That should be rhetorical, but I answer anyway. “Because you can’t tell me this is going anywhere.”
“Does it have to be all or nothing?” he asks, trying not to sound angry, but it’s there in the undertones.
I pause, slowly digesting his words.
“It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. It just has to be something, Rye. Something more than simple.”
His frustrated groan reverberates through my chest, piercing my heart. “Why?”
I turn to face him, barely managing to hold myself back from pulling him to me. “Because I love you. And I won’t settle for something less than I want—or deserve—again.”
The pain on his face only breaks my heart. Seeing him this upset about my confession only sets another fire to my already flaming pit of misery. I turn away and push through the door. And he lets me go without a fight. Again.
His father is wrong. Rye Clanton is never going to want to be with me. He may love me, but it’s under extreme protest. I don’t want to fight for a man who’s not willing to fight for me. All Rye does is fight me.
For once, I want someone else to work for a relationship. Because I’m sick of carrying the weight.
***
RYE
“What are you doing?” Wren asks as I grab the roses from the countertop.
“I’m going to go get my girl back,” I say as I head out the door, and I feel his smile behind me.
She won’t fight me forever. She doesn’t understand what she’s asking to know, or she wouldn’t be asking. I can pretend she didn’t tell me that she loves me. And she can pretend that this is still simple.
We can do this.
I knock on the door, and Maggie swings it open immediately. She hates me now. And she’s a little intimidating with that whole hands-on-the-hips stance while scowling thing.
“Can’t you leave her alone?” she asks, groaning as she tilts her head back to look at the ceiling.
“Can I just give her the roses?” I aim for the most charming tone I have, but Maggie is a rather strong fortress.
“No,” she says, slamming the door in my face. I hate guard dogs.
Instead of attempting to reclaim my dignity or risk knocking again, I go and stand by her car. Eventually, she’ll have to come out.
Luckily for me, I don’t have to wait long. I’m fairly sure my heartbeat is in my chest when she walks out in a sundress, wearing small heels, and letting her hair fall down to almost reach her shoulders.
I just want to touch her.
“Hey,” I say, grinning as she walks down the sidewalk, and her eyes pop up in surprise to mee
t mine. Then her gaze drops to the roses for a fleeting second before coming back up.
She wants to say yes.
“How’s your hand?” she asks in a near whisper.
“It hurts a little, but there’s no nerve damage. Should get the stitches out soon.”
She nods, not looking at me. I continue speaking while pushing the roses out toward her. “These are for you.”
She doesn’t look up, but she draws a heavy breath. “I have to go,” she says, stepping around me.
“Go where?” I ask, moving faster and blocking her path to her car door.
“I have a date,” she says, still refusing to meet my eyes.
Bile rises to my throat as I numbly move to the side, and I watch as she disappears into her car. This is not how this day was supposed to go.
She pulls out of her spot, and I continue standing and staring. But I can’t take it.
My bike is in my yard, and I drop the roses and rush over to it. In seconds, I’m on the road and following behind her at a safe distance.
When she cuts into a restaurant parking lot, I sit at the curb like a fucking stalker. Christ, she’s destroying my mind. And I think she’s doing it on purpose.
Once she’s inside, I wait. But the waiting is driving me crazy. So after about twenty minutes of torture, I go in. It’s not very crowded, so scanning the tables is easy work. I spot her and the infamous date in a matter of seconds, but she’s not at a table with a young guy. This guy is too fucking old for her. What the hell?
I stalk through the restaurant, ignoring the hostess calling for me to wait, and I move in behind Brin just as the prick from across the table finishes his sentence.
“...You made your bed. Lie in it.” Then he looks up at me as I come to put my hands on either side of the table, caging Brin in with my arms.
“Little old for you, don’t you think?” I ask her, putting my lips close to her ear, but she doesn’t even act surprised. She mutters a few choice words as she turns around to look up at me, forcing me to lean back and tower over her.
“Rye, meet my father,” she hisses, and I might trip backwards—and possibly stumble over two or three chairs.
She stands just as the waitress brings the food, and she rolls her eyes while turning back to her father.
“You’re not going to stay and eat?” he asks her dispassionately.
“Lost my appetite,” she grumbles, and then she starts retreating toward the door.
Her father?
He glares at me and the tattoos on my arms before he rolls his eyes. “Never going to learn,” he mutters under his breath.
I don’t bother saying a word to him. I thought Brin hated her parents. So why is she lying to me about a date and meeting her father?
By the time I reach the outside, she’s already driving away, but she’s not crying. She’s just pissed.
I really know how to fuck up like a pro.
***
BRIN
“This is worth at least seven-hundred dollars,” I argue, groaning as the man behind the glass case shakes his head.
“I realize that, but this is a pawn shop. I can’t give you what it’s worth, because I have to sell it. It’s business. I’ve told you; three-hundred is my highest offer. I have to turn a profit. People don’t come in here to pay full price. I’ll be lucky to get six-hundred for it.”
Damn. “And you won’t let me pay this now and pay more next month? For my car?”
He frowns while shaking his head. “You’ve got a sad story with no proof. I hear sad stories all day. I can’t cut you any breaks. I’d be broke if I took pity on everyone that had the same bad luck as you claim to have.”
This day sucks. My life sucks. This pawn shop sucks. My father sucks. Rye sucks. Rye’s father sucks. Everything and everyone frigging sucks.
I can’t believe I went to my dad for help. But I thought he might give me my old jewelry to sell or pawn. Nope. I’m still not allowed to have anything that used to be mine because I refuse to go back to college and choose a career that satisfies him, even if I prefer working at the museum.
Well, fine. Fuck them all.
I can’t believe Rye showed up. Well, I can believe it, but I wish he hadn’t. I shouldn’t have lied and told him I was going on a date. I knew better.
I leave the pawn shop without any success. My options are dried up. My car is going to be taken away tomorrow, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I’ve lost this war, too. I’m the worst soldier ever.
***
BRIN
Everything passes by me slower than usual, because I take my time driving home. How can one person have their life so thoroughly screwed up in a matter of a few years?
When I get home, there are several vases of roses, and all of them have balloons attached that say I’m sorry. I just want him to hold me. More than anything, I want to be in his arms, because he makes the worst day better. I miss being able to breathe.
But until he’s ready to admit this thing can go deeper, we’ll be stuck in limbo. And I’ll only ever know the parts of him that he wants to show. That night he broke me, I realized there’s so much more to him than he’ll ever share with me. He’ll keep me at arm’s length, and I’ll never have him. Not really.
He’s in pain, but he lives in denial. Just like he denies his feelings for me. I just wish he’d stop fighting the truth. But I know he never will, even though I’m still foolishly holding out hope.
“These have been coming all day,” Maggie says, motioning to the roses as she steps out onto the porch. “I’ve started making them leave ‘em all out here.”
She looks over my shoulder at Rye’s house, but I don’t. I know he’s waiting for me to do just that.
“I need liquor. Lots and lots of liquor.”
***
RYE
Brin’s car has been gone for two straight days. Where the hell is she?
I’d go to the museum, but I’m afraid she’ll cause a scene and lose her job. And then she’d really hate me.
“What are you doing?” Wren asks as I walk back into my house.
“Just got back from delivering a few goodies,” I say with a careless shrug.
“Pranks? You think that’s a good idea under the circumstances?”
“Roses haven’t worked, jewelry would be insulting to her, and... I’m going crazy without her, Wren. I just want her back. This is how I got her the first time.”
He sighs as he looks out the window with me. “Then maybe it’s time to face how you really fucking feel about her. I won’t pretend to understand what all you went through, but maybe Brin was dropped off across the street from you for a reason. Ash healed Tag. Dane healed Rain—and the other way around... Maybe Brin is what is going to heal you.”
“Gee, Dr. Phil, any more great wisdom to share?” I ask with a sarcastic lilt, and he rolls his eyes.
“Just trying to fucking help.”
Wren becomes a forgotten fixture when a cab pulls up, and Brin steps out after paying the guy. What the fucking hell is going on?
I’m running across the street before I know it, and she’s turning to face me just as she unlocks the door to her house.
“You need to shave,” she says, surprising me for long enough to get the door almost shut before I can speak.
“Brin, where’s your car?” I ask, shouldering through the door before she can lock it on me.
She curses under her breath and glares at the door like it just betrayed her. I give the two of them a moment, but she finally turns back to me as I stare expectantly.
“It’s getting some work done.”
All the worst possible scenarios rattle around in my head as the gut-clenching feeling invades.
“Did you wreck? Are you okay? Have you been in the hospital or something?”
She sighs as she drops her purse to the floor, and then she comes over to me. I glance down at her work attire, and a little relief settles in my bones. She wouldn’t be at work i
f she was hurt.
When she grabs the back of my neck, I almost bash my mouth into hers for the kiss I’ve been starving for.
My hands are on her, my body pushes against her, and I can’t get enough of her taste when she gives me what I’ve been desperately missing. She jumps up and wraps her legs around me, and I groan into her mouth while pushing her up against the wall. This is so damn right.
Her tongue toys with mine, and I start trying to figure out the best way to get my pants down. But before I can, she pulls back, drops to the ground, and pushes me away when I try to resume the perfect kiss. My mouth opens in disbelief when she goes to open the door.
“Go. I’m fine. Just a bad few days.”
I stand my ground and give her an incredulous look. “What the hell? You just kissed me.”
“Confused?” she asks, crossing her arms under her perky breasts that jut out from the motion, but it only distracts me for a second.
“Pretty fucking confused, yeah,” I growl.
“Good. Welcome to my hell. We’re even. Now go.”
I try to say something, but I have no idea what to say. She just kissed me, put her legs around me, and now she’s kicking me out just when things were getting good. Is this really how she feels right now? Because I think my head is going to explode.
Chapter 17
***
RYE
Maggie steps out of her car and walks toward me with a frown.
“Why was it so urgent we meet?” she asks, standing beside my bike as I knock down the stand. Slowly, I stand up, crossing my arms over my chest as we move to the sidewalk and out of the city street.
“Because something has obviously happened to Brin’s car and I want to know what. No one else can fix her car better than my garage. So tell me where it is.”
She rolls her eyes as she fidgets uncomfortably.
“Do you even go to your garage anymore?”
“I’m there enough. Where’s her car? I’ll have it towed to my place. I don’t want some hack mechanic touching the vehicle she drives. I don’t understand how it tore up to begin with. We replaced—”
“It didn’t tear up,” she mutters, inhaling regretfully. “Pawn shop took it. Her ex pawned her title for a grand, but the interest added up when he didn’t pay for it, and Brin couldn’t pay the six grand in time. She refused to take my money or tell me which pawn shop. I even went to several trying to find the right one.”
