Anything More Than Now (Sutton College #2)

by Rebecca Paula

  She passes out, half stretched out from the bed before she can yell at me further. It’s probably for the best. If she came at me I don’t know what I would have done. Well, that’s a lie. It has to be because I can’t leave without pulling her back onto the bed. She might have left me, but I can’t do that to her.

  I tug her body, disgusted with how light she is in my arms. I prop her up on a pillow and debate whether I should leave for good or come back, if I should try to take her with me tonight. Maybe I should pretend this never happened.

  I leave a note for her on the table by the bed telling her to call me, that I won’t ask any questions, and that she’s not in trouble. Then write my number out big so she can’t miss it. I hear another shuffle behind me, something near the tiny kitchenette, but ignore it. Before I can reconsider, I run out onto the balcony and race down the stairs, not caring if they fall out from under me and I crash to the ground. I’m pretty sure I’ve already fallen.

  It’s raining now, pouring really, and I stop running and just walk until I’m out of the parking lot and on a sidewalk. The palm trees above me don’t help. Nothing does. I kick at a puddle and stop in my tracks, peering up at the sky, letting the rain wash over me.

  I need to go back.

  This time, the world weighs down each step and my heart is racing. Someone else was in that room and I shouldn’t have left without finding out who. And when I open the door to the motel room again, I spot a pair of little feet beneath the table, and the heart I thought was already broken finally splinters.

  I creep up to the table and bend down, tilting my head to the small child half hidden in the shadow of the table. “Hi, there.”

  I can’t tell if it’s a boy or girl, and they don’t answer so I take a deep breath and try again, fighting back the urge to scoop them up in my arms.

  “Where’s your Mom?”

  They creep closer and I get my answer. It’s a small boy, maybe three. He points to Kelsey on the bed and my eyes shut. I knew, I knew and I didn’t want to believe it.

  “Well, we should let her sleep, don’t you think?”

  He nods and comes a little closer, his green eyes narrowing on me. If I had any pictures of me and Kelsey when we were little, I’m convinced he would look just like us. He’s wide-eyed and scared, his face smudged with jelly and he’s only wearing PJ pants. The rest of him is dirty, including his long hair, which looks like it’d never been cut.

  “She gets mad,” he says. “We have to be quiet.”

  “Good to know.” I glance behind me at Kelsey and the guy, who’re still passed out. If I do this, it has to be quick.

  “What’s your name, buddy?”

  He hesitates. Shit, I’m not good at this. I’m pretty sure that if I scare most adults, kids must be terrified of me. I draw in a deep breath and stick out my hand. “I’m Reagan. I’m your aunt.” I could have lied, but what’s the point? He probably doesn’t believe me anyway. I know I wouldn’t if I were him.

  “Ryder.”

  “That’s a pretty cool name. So, Ryder, want to go on a trip?”

  He shakes his head at first and dread wells in my stomach. I can’t leave him here, it’s not safe. And if I call the cops, it’s going to turn everything into a shitshow and he’ll get thrown into child protective services. That’s the last thing I want for him.

  “Trips are fun. Have you ever been on an adventure?”

  He shakes his head again and I stand, searching for some of his things. He needs clothes. The rest I can get later.

  I quietly go through the drawers of the bureau by the bed, holding my breath the entire time when I spot the gun resting by the lamp. There isn’t much to discover except a Bible that’s curled and water stained, a few shirts. When I turn around, Ryder is in the corner of the room again, throwing clothes everywhere from a duffel bag, clutching a stuffed dinosaur in his tiny arms.

  “I want to go,” he says, running up to me as I start toward the end of the bed. “I want to go,” he repeats, his voice wavering.

  I gesture for his things and stuff them in my bag, then hold out my hand for his.

  *

  It’s possible that I just abducted my nephew. Without his mother’s consent—that’s a thing right? But I couldn’t leave him there either.

  I pick Ryder up and place him on top of the folding table as the washing machine behind us fills with sudsy water. It’s a near monsoon outside, which gives me an excuse to wash his filthy clothes while I search for a place for us to stay for the night. The smell of bleach and powered detergent is overwhelming. The daytime soap opera blares into the empty laundromat. The older woman behind the counter has curlers in her blue-gray hair, flicking over another page of some clothing catalog.

  Ryder looks up at me, an open container of chicken nuggets across his small lap. My body is coursing on adrenaline. Maybe I’m just sleepwalking through this whole day, maybe I’m making the biggest mistake of my life, or maybe….

  “You look like my mommy,” he says, nudging his small foot into my knee. It takes two of his small hands to circle his cup and bring the straw to his lips.

  I sit across from him in a worn plastic chair, feeling the back legs give as if it’s about to collapse from beneath me. “I’m her sister. That’s what aunt means.” I scroll through my phone and try to find us a decent motel that we can walk to. “When we get finished with laundry, I think it’s time for you to have a bath, mister.”

  “I don’t like baths.” He chucks a chicken nugget back into the cardboard container. “And I don’t like not seeing Mommy, even if she gets mad at me.”

  I don’t like her not knowing he’s with me, but if she wasn’t blazed out of her mind, maybe Kelsey would know. Shit, I have to figure out what to do with her next. My mind races ahead, mentally adding to a list that won’t end.

  “Ryder, how old are you?”

  He holds up three fingers. “I’m four.”

  I laugh, then hold up four fingers. “Then you’re this many.”

  He cocks his head, a fry hanging out of his mouth. He whirls it around in his mouth like a plane propeller. “How many are you?”

  “Too many to count by my fingers. I’m twenty-three.”

  He giggles, lifting his face up to the ceiling. “Then you’re so old.”

  I sure as hell feel old. And clueless. And angry. And helpless….

  I reach across the aisle and lightly pinch his nose, wrinkling mine at his. “I am. Thanks for having lunch with me, buddy.”

  *

  This was the last place I want to be with Ryder. He deserves more. But I can’t just keep him either. I need time to figure how to do this responsibly. And a small part of me hopes to find a different Kelsey today.

  That’s not the case when I push through the door again.

  Kelsey sits at the table, her head nodding to one side, when she struggles to put me in Ryder in focus.

  “What the fuck?” The guy from the other day staggers to his feet from the bed. “Who the hell are you?”

  “My sister,” Kelsey mumbles.

  Ryder stays by my side. “Mommy?”

  She ignores him, her glazed-over eyes pinned to me instead.

  “I’ve had him for three days and didn’t get one call,” I say. Before she can answer, if she was even going to answer, I bend down and give Ryder my phone and tell him to play his favorite game in the corner by the door.

  “And now you want to be his mother?” Kelsey attempts to stand, but sinks back into her chair while the man grabs his gun and storms closer.

  “Why are you here?”

  I glance over his shoulder, unable to look at his rotting teeth. His eyes are just as red as Kelsey’s and I spot old food cartons littering the floor by the bed. A cockroach crawls out and scurries under the bed and I do everything I can not to throw up from the stench.

  “I’m Kelsey’s sister.” I keep my voice even, not missing how much he’s fidgeting.

  “She’s my aunt,” Ryder shouts fr
om the door.

  It’d be adorable if Kelsey didn’t rise from her chair and lunge for him. “She’s nothing to you.”

  I reach out, bracing my arms on her shoulders to stop her from going after Ryder. She’s paper beneath my fingers, a wisp of flesh and bone. “Kelsey, I love you and I want to help. But if you lay a hand on him….”

  She draws back and slaps me. “Who do you think you are? Fucking come in here and taking my son, telling me how to raise him. Fuck you. I don’t want you here. I don’t need you.”

  The man draws the gun and aims it right at me.

  “We don’t have to do this. Put down the gun,” I say.

  “You a fucking cop? I told Dan they were coming. Did you let her in, Kels?” He swings the gun at her.

  My sister, either brave or stupid, waves off the threat of a bullet. “Oh, fuck off, Dave. Go get a hit and calm the fuck down.”

  He raises the gun and shoots the ceiling, then swings it back to me. I hear the sound of the hammer click back, my eyes frozen to the molded carpet. As a burning sensation slices across my arm, I dive for Ryder.

  “You fucking idiot. You shot my sister,” Kelsey yells.

  I try to calm everyone down, even as blue and red lights filter around the room’s curtains, and the cops enter. I don’t look at the blood dripping from my arm as I try to stem the bleeding. I don’t do much of anything except slump against the wall and struggle to keep the world in focus.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Reagan

  The ambulance sirens pierce the air around me as the lights blink, filtering into the rear of the ambulance. The faces of the paramedics stare down at me, ask me questions. They poke at me and I see blood. My blood seeping into bandages, my blood smeared across their latex gloves, staining my clothes.

  “You’re in shock,” one them says. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “Where’s Ryder?”

  “He’s with the officer. It’s okay now. He’ll be okay. You need to calm down.”

  I imagine the sound of the universe beginning was a lot like the searing hot howl that screams through my body, tearing me apart. I feel myself shaking, even as I start to lose feeling in one of my hands.

  “He can’t,” I say. “I can’t leave him.”

  I feel a quick pinch, then a surreal rush of warmth flowing through my veins.

  I see my mother standing beneath a tree covered in Spanish moss as I dance in circles with Kelsey. She’s happy today, and clapping as we both sing before tumbling down to the ground. I see Noah, his arm outstretched as he spins me back toward his body, those eyes of his welcoming me home. I think I feel a tiny hand slip into mine belonging to a little boy with peanut butter and jelly smeared around his mouth before I see nothing at all.

  *

  “You’ll be discharged soon, Reagan,” a nurse says, disconnecting my IV.

  The hospital room is empty and cold and barren. I hate it. “Okay, thank you.”

  My phone buzzes with another email. This time from Anna’s contact at HR, wanting to set up an interview. I close the email, then delete it on a sigh. I feel my body begin to crumble piece by piece.

  I cry in the hospital bed, small and alone. My heart cracks open, my spirit pouring out. I cry knowing that tomorrow I’ll need to carry on, but for tonight, for tonight I cry and fall apart.

  My hand trembles as I dial, my tears clouding my voice as Trina answers. “I need, I want….”

  “I’m already on my way to the airport, sweetheart. Hang in there, okay?”

  I nod, curling up on my side, trying my best to get warm beneath the scratchy white hospital blanket.

  “I’m going to be there as soon as I can. I’m taking the next flight out. In the meantime I have a hotel for you. I’ve been on the phone with the police and Ryder is okay. He’s in custody of child protective services.”

  “I’m not pressing charges.”

  “I know,” Trina says. “Kelsey is still in jail for now. But they’re going to release her.”

  “She’s not my sister anymore.” I flinch, remembering her flinging herself toward Ryder as if she was going to hit him. Just like our mother. “I have her number. Even if I call her and ask if she wants help, I don’t think I’ll be able to find her. She’s going to run as soon as she can.”

  “She is your sister, Rea. She’s still there, just a bit lost.” I hear Trina’s muffled voice over the line, asking a question at the ticket counter at the airport. “I have to go to now. I need to get through security. Check your email when you’re discharged. The room is already paid for. We’re going to figure this out together, okay? But right now I want you to take care of yourself. You’re important too, don’t forget that.”

  I can’t hold back the tears right now. I can’t remember the last time I cried. I can’t remember the last time I allowed myself to just fall apart. “I’ve already asked, and am going to petition for temporary custody of Ryder.”

  “Reagan, we can talk about this when I get there. You don’t have to make a decision right now. It’s okay. Everything will be okay.”

  I pick at the tape on my arm from my IV, my skin red as I rip it off and toss the cotton ball in the trash. My arm is throbbing but the pain killers they gave me makes the world seem as if it’s slight off its axis. As if I’m off my axis and have become someone slightly different than myself.

  “Honey, you need to think this over. That’s a big change and you’ve worked so hard…you’re just going to give up on New York?”

  “Everybody left me, Trina. I’m not going to let Ryder know what that’s like. For now at least.”

  I get discharged, and in between sleep and pain pills and dizzying days of growing up, I start to collect the shattered pieces of my life and sort them out. Piece by piece, I start to become Reagan Landry. Piece by piece, I leave my dreams in New York and make room in my heart for a little boy who needs his family.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Reagan

  “Ryder, where are your pants?” I say it more to myself than to my nephew as I fling clothes out of the piled hamper into the hallway a month later. I’m not sure pants are a priority to Ryder, who’s bouncing over the couch cushions. I bite my tongue and take a deep breath, then throw down another armful of pant-free finds. “The couch is for sitting. Park it, mister.”

  Ryder pauses, assessing me. There’s been a lot of that lately since we’ve come to Portland. Want a big confidence boost? I don’t recommend relying on a four-year-old, that’s for sure.

  “We should go to the zoo,” he declares, flopping back onto the cushions. “I want to see the snakes.”

  We live in a zoo. At least it feels like that since Trina’s given me Cecily back and Ryder’s been introduced to his first pet. And I want another cup of coffee and two seconds to figure out what the hell I’m doing with a four-year-old, living back in my old bungalow, but that’s not likely either.

  “We have to visit with Dr. Marlee this morning. You know that. Now come on, help me find your pants so we can get out of here.”

  He bounces down to the floor and twirls, narrowly missing the coffee table, before he does some ninja-like spin down the hallway, diving into the pile of discarded clothes.

  “I’ve already looked through those.” I move the pile, determined that if I get him to have a nap this afternoon, I’ll tackle all of our laundry then, even if I could use a nap too. But naps are a myth now, as is quiet, and my sanity. I could have sworn this kid has only two outfits. I bend down and reach into the dryer. “Aha, here.” I hand him a pair of shorts. “Put these on and go brush your teeth.”

  “I did brush my teeth. And I don’t want to wear these.”

  I snap back up, quickly glancing up toward the ceiling. “You’re wearing these and you’re fibbing about your teeth. I can still smell the maple syrup from your pancakes. I want you to be honest with Auntie.”

  Ryder doesn’t flinch at that word. In fact he seems to have gotten used to the idea. Me? Well, I know that on
e minute I was in New York going after the one thing I’ve always wanted and the next, I’m marching into a motel room to get custody of family I didn’t know I had.

  “I don’t like brushing my teeth.”

  I reach down and finger comb his newly cut hair. “There are lots of things we don’t like to do in life, Ryder, but sometimes we’ve just got to do them.” I pat his back and steer him toward the bathroom. “Now pants, teeth. We’ve got to catch the bus soon.”

  “What about the zoo?”

  A knock sounds at the front door. I start for it, realizing halfway that while I was so concerned about Ryder finding pants, I’m still in a torn T-shirt and yoga pants covered in green paint after I painted Ryder’s room two days ago after I got home from work. “Maybe,” I shout back over my shoulder. I don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s too much this week, that maybe I can swing it next Tuesday when admission is discounted and after I get paid Friday.

  I pull open the door and freeze.

  “I heard you were back,” Noah says, standing on the other side of the doorway, his hands jammed into his jeans.

  Words trip over in my head, in my mouth, in my heart. I’ve wanted to see his face again, hear his voice again, so badly and yet….

  “I have to go,” I say, starting to shut the door.

  He reaches out and yanks off one of Ryder’s socks that had stuck to my shirt, then hands it to me. “I tried to call—well, I wanted to call.”

  “We don’t need to do this, Noah.” I peek over my shoulder, suspicious as to why it’s suddenly so quiet in the house. “And I really have to go. I’m glad you came back for senior year. I know that—”

  Noah nods, looking down at his feet before he meets my gaze again. The effect is altogether overwhelming.

  “I hope you’re doing…I hope everything is okay.”

  Maybe we’re just supposed to be left unfinished. Maybe the time we spent in Montana was going to be it and maybe that’s why it feels so final now. It was never supposed to be anything like it became, it was a mistake at first, one quick dive into something I never knew I could have. And then what we found together was altogether too much, too perfect for it to ever last.