Something Reckless

by Lexi Ryan

  Watching Mr. Bradshaw with his wife and kids is fascinating. He’s not the candidate today. He’s the man. And it’s so refreshing to see that the two aren’t all that different that it makes me like him even more.

  I love the way Sam’s siblings poke at each other, joking and teasing.

  I want to love this. I want us to be any other couple sharing a family holiday for the first time. But I feel like everything changed the minute I walked in the door. Connor was holding his baby and paled at the sight of me. Della sneered. And when Mr. Bradshaw spotted me, something flashed over his face, and I could tell he was hurt that I didn’t stay away from Sam as he’d requested. But worst of all is Sam. He barely greeted me when I arrived, and he hasn’t said a word the entire time. He keeps glaring at Connor, and he barked at him when Connor dared wish him a merry Christmas.

  If Sam’s rethinking having me here, I wish he would have called and asked me to stay home. That would have hurt, but it would have been preferable to being a pariah at another family’s Christmas.

  “Potatoes?” Sam asks from beside me. I jump at the sound of his voice, then paste on a smile and dish myself some out of the big ceramic dish.

  Sam’s younger brother, Ian, takes the seat next to me. “If you have some time after dinner, you should let me show you the Corvette I’m restoring in the barn.” He drags his eyes over me meaningfully, obviously. “I’m pretty good with my hands, you know.”

  “Little man,” Sam warns in a growl, never turning toward his brother or me, “if you don’t take your eyes off my girlfriend, I’ll do it for you.”

  Ian flushes and turns his attention to his food, and my cheeks burn too. Maybe he’s in a bad mood, but he just called me his girlfriend again. Such a silly little word, and it means everything.

  “He’s fine,” I mumble. I wish he would tell me what’s gotten him in this mood. Unless it’s me.

  “Girlfriend?” Della says. “Huh. Interesting.”

  It’s his mom’s turn to give me her attention, it seems. “So with your sisters marrying and starting their families, are you looking to do the same, Liz?” she asks. It seems like she’s the only one happy to have me here.

  Across from us, Ryann starts humming “Fixer Upper” from that Disney movie. I cut my eyes to Sam, but he seems unfazed. I’m guessing he’s not familiar with the song.

  Della stabs her chicken so hard the fork screeches against the plate.

  “Um . . .” I look to Sam for help, but he’s scowling into space. Real helpful, buddy. “I don’t know? I mean, I’m just starting a new career and . . .” And this is Sam we’re talking about here, right? Do you know how he feels about commitment?

  And yet here I am.

  The best plan of action is to change the subject. “So, what are your hobbies?” I ask Ian. “Do you spend a lot of time restoring cars?”

  Ryann snorts. “That’s just want he wants you to think. He spends more time at his computer running code.”

  “What kind of code?”

  “Ian developed the code for the Something Real dating site,” Connor says, grinning at his brother-in-law.

  I choke on my wine. “That’s your site?”

  “Yeah,” Ryann says. “He understands how hard it is for ugly guys to find a date, so he invested hundreds and hundreds of hours into developing a workaround.”

  “Just because you’re too shallow to appreciate true connections,” Ian says to his sister. “I am a romantic. I believe in love.”

  The rest of the meal passes in a haze as Ian chatters on about his pet project and the rest of the family chimes in about the various ways they helped. On the outside, I’m a quiet woman pushing food around her plate, but on the inside, I’m panicking.

  “So, you’re pretty young for such a venture,” I manage when I finally find my voice. “Who are your investors?”

  Ian grins. “Lucky me, I was born into a family of investors, so pretty much everyone you see here.”

  You need to tell him before he finds out from Ian, my brain screeches, but my heart knows this will be over when I admit what happened.

  Maybe it’s not Connor. Maybe it’s . . . maybe it’s Ian. How pathetic am I to sit here hoping I had inappropriate sex conversations with Sam’s little brother?

  “Didn’t I see in the Tattler that you are a member of Something Real?” Della asks me.

  Mrs. Bradshaw is clearing the table. I barely ate a bite. I couldn’t. “I gave it a shot,” I say. I shoot a look to Sam, hoping against hope that he’ll say something about how I don’t need sites like that anymore because I’m his. Something. Anything.

  But he’s too busy glaring at nothing and doesn’t say a word.

  Next to me, Ian pulls his phone from his pocket and starts tapping at the screen. “Oh!” he says, scrolling down through something. “I found you, Liz. You haven’t been active for a while.”

  My stomach lurches. “Excuse me.” I push out of my chair and rush out of the room.

  In the formal living room, I lean my head against the wall and try to slow my racing heart.

  “Liz?”

  I turn to see Sam has joined me, and for the first time all night, the anger has left his face. Does he already know? “I’m sorry,” I whisper. I’m a coward. I can’t risk breaking his heart, can’t risk making him hate me until I’m one hundred percent positive that Connor is River. “I need to go.” My voice is shaking as I head to the door, but I won’t cry in front of him. I won’t fall apart in front of this family.

  “What’s wrong?” He follows me out the door, and when we’re alone in the glow of the porch light, he cups my face in his hand. “Tell me.”

  Please don’t do that. Please, please don’t show me kindness I don’t deserve.

  “I forgot I promised Hanna I’d do some baking for her tonight,” I lie. He knows it’s a lie. I see it in his eyes. And because this is Sam and he’s been lied to before, he drops his hand and steps back. He doesn’t want to touch the woman who’s lying to him.

  I rush down the steps and to the sidewalk, doing all I can to keep myself from running as I head in the direction of the bakery.

  He doesn’t come after me. That’s for the best. I’m like a shattered piece of glass—still whole but broken all over—and his touch, his voice, his concern, any of it would be enough to make me fall apart.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Liz

  As irrational as it is, when I get back to my empty house, I miss River more than I have since we stopped talking. Does that even make sense? I’m angry with Connor. Disgusted that he would do this to Della. But I miss my conversations with my faceless friend. I miss feeling like someone wanted me for me.

  You make me believe there could be more. You make me want more.

  And I know it’s stupid and it doesn’t make any sense, but my chest aches with grief. As if my heart still needs to mourn that Sam wasn’t River. I wanted it to be him so badly that I’d convinced myself it was.

  I open my laptop and log on to Something Real for the first time since the morning I left the cabin.

  Tink24: Are you there?

  Riverrat69: I’m on my phone. Are you okay?

  I shake my head. No. I’m not okay. The man I trusted most in this world—the man I’ve defended a thousand times over to his wife—wanted to have an affair with me.

  Hell, one might argue we were already having an affair. We crossed lines. I haven’t allowed myself to think about it, but I do now. I had an affair with a married man. Maybe we didn’t touch, but we talked about it. We described it. I’m as guilty as the woman Sam’s father had an affair with.

  Tink24: I know you’re married.

  I stare at the screen, waiting for his response. I don’t know what I want him to say. That he isn’t married? Do I want to find out he’s someone else, someone other than Connor? A stranger using the Bradshaw cabin to lure in women and seduce them? How is that better?

  I’m making myself crazy with analyzing my own motivations
when his reply finally comes.

  Riverrat69: You figured out who I am.

  Tink24: Yes.

  Riverrat69: Because of the cabin.

  Tink24: Yes.

  Riverrat69: I should have never invited you there. That was careless. Reckless. I apologize.

  Tink24: You’re saying you didn’t plan to cheat on your wife?

  Riverrat69: Can we talk about this in person?

  Tink24: No. You’re married.

  Riverrat69: You know how people talk about their significant other as their partner? Well, that’s how I feel. I’m her partner. On the bad days, I feel like her assistant. The person there to make her life easier. I didn’t particularly want a partner. I wanted a lover and a companion. So, yes, I’m married. But I don’t have a lover. And you’ve been the closest thing I’ve had to a companion in a long time.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m the other woman.

  Tink24: You have made me into something I never wanted to be. I can’t forgive you for that.

  Riverrat69: Lizzy . . .

  My hand flies to my mouth and my whole body starts shaking. He knows it’s me. He’s been working next to me, talking to me, telling me about his baby and what a great mom Della is, and he’s known all this time that I was Tink24.

  I close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing, forcing my lungs to accept air. It’s so much harder to breathe the air in a world where the people you trust the most let you down.

  When I open my eyes, I see he’s sent another message.

  Riverrat69: You knew it was me. You’ve known all this time, but you didn’t quit. Doesn’t that tell you something?

  Tink24: I don’t want to quit. I love my job.

  Now, more than ever. It feels important. I’ve spent my whole life never being taken seriously, and suddenly I have this job where people take my words very seriously. What I do matters, and if I leave the campaign, what are the chances I’d ever find another politician to take me on?

  Riverrat69: You wanted to be close to me as much as I wanted to be close to you.

  Tink24: I won’t play a role in destroying a marriage. This—whatever it was? It’s over.

  Riverrat69: I respect that. I apologize for hurting you. I never wanted that. I was blinded by our connection. I’ve never felt that with anyone.

  Tink24: I thought you were someone else. I wanted you to be someone else.

  Riverrat69: Sam?

  I draw in a ragged breath. My cheeks are wet. I’m crying, and I feel ugly inside. I haven’t only been avoiding him because it was the right thing to do. I’ve been avoiding him because I didn’t want to face what I’ve done.

  Tink24: I’m deleting my account. This will be the last time we talk this way.

  Riverrat69: I’ll miss seeing you. Take care of yourself.

  Tink24: Are you saying I don’t have a job anymore?

  Riverrat69: You’re welcome to stay, but as long as you’re close, I’ll want you.

  I jump when my doorbell rings. Wiping away my tears, I answer it.

  Sam’s looking across the street, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans.

  Slowly, I open the door, but when he turns to me, his eyes aren’t angry. They’re hot.

  He stalks toward me and slams the door behind him, making the entire house rattle. I back against a wall. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Everything. My sister just had a baby, and her husband’s a piece of shit. My dad’s running for governor, and I don’t know if I can trust anyone in my own damn family anymore. And . . . I have a girlfriend.” Then, as if that explains anything, he closes the space between us and kisses me hard. His lips crush against mine, then his tongue, and I’m opening to him without a thought.

  My hands wrap around his thick biceps and his go to my neck and move their way down, sweeping over my shoulders and down my arms until he’s holding me with both of his hands at my waist, then further down, his fingers digging almost painfully into my hips.

  He sweeps one hand between our bodies and cups me between my legs, rubbing me through my flannel sleep pants.

  I don’t know what’s gotten into him. Don’t know what he wants beyond greedy hands and hungry kisses. But I know I can’t do this while my mind is still spinning about River, so I pull his hand away and sidestep his grasp.

  He presses his hands against the wall and hangs his head as he catches his breath. “I’m not my father,” he whispers. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove I’m my own man, but I’ve never believed it.” He turns slowly and looks at me. “I’m sorry about tonight. I let family bullshit ruin Christmas with you. Forgive me.”

  * * *

  Sam

  “You don’t owe me an apology,” Liz says softly.

  I won’t let myself be spooked and ruin our chance together.

  After I called someone to come pick up Asia, I went to my parents’ with my head spinning. I was determined to put what Asia said out of my mind until after Christmas, but then I overheard my parents fighting. Mom kept her voice low, but I could hear her through the study door, could hear the hysteria that laced the edges of her words.

  “You expect me to believe you aren’t sleeping with her?”

  “I haven’t touched her.”

  “This is the worst possible time. Think of the campaign.”

  Maybe that was the hardest part for me to swallow. My mom, his wife, when confronted with the possibility of her husband cheating on her again, was more concerned about the effect of an affair on his political campaign than about the effect on their marriage.

  And maybe two years ago he was more concerned about his political campaign than about his own son’s child.

  Liz is staring at me, her brow wrinkled, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

  “I’m in love with you.” The words just slip out, as if I can’t hold them in anymore.

  “What?”

  I answer with my mouth, pressing her against the wall as my hands go into her hair and I kiss her hard. I’m terrified of what’s going to happen to my family. But the taste of Liz, the feel of her mouth under mine, it relaxes me.

  My hand slides between her legs as I drop my mouth to her neck, nibbling and sucking until she drops her head to the side to give me better access.

  “I’m in love with you.” It’s the truth, but I hate how vulnerable saying it makes me feel, as if that one sentence has the power to catapult me back to a time in my life when my heart wasn’t my own. I needed her after our first night together. She had my heart in her hands and told me she wasn’t interested.

  I don’t want to go back there, to that kind of vulnerability. Not for anything. Except for her. I might just go back for Liz. Because once a woman owns a man’s heart, it never really returns to him.

  She attempts a smile but it wobbles on the edges. She wants to believe me. “You can’t be in love with me. I’ve screwed up so many times. And I’m so scared that once you realize—”

  “You think I haven’t screwed up? That I’m not scared?” I hold her face in my hands and look into her big, blue eyes. “I’m terrified every day I’m with you. I’m scared of what it means that I wake up every day and you’re the first thing on my mind. I’m scared that I can’t remember what it felt like to spend weeks at a time without seeing you. I’m scared of how badly I need you and of how completely you’ve stolen my heart. But mostly I’m terrified that I’m not good enough for you, and that even though you deserve better, I have no idea how to live in a world where I don’t get to smell your hair or hold you in my arms.”

  She stares at me, lips parted, eyes wide.

  “Say something,” I whisper.

  “I love you too.”

  The words lift a weight off my lungs, and for the first time in days I’m able to take a deep breath. “Then nothing else matters.” I lower my head to kiss her.

  She stops me with a finger to my lips. “We need to talk first,” she says.

  My phone rings, and I ignore it. I can’t t
alk to him right now.

  Liz and I stare at each other.

  “I messed up,” she says. “Being with you is a dream, and if I’d had any idea this was possible, I wouldn’t have signed up for all those stupid dating sites.”

  “I don’t care about that.” My phone rings again, and this time I look at it. The last call was from Connor, but this time it’s Della. “Sorry,” I say to Liz before answering. “Hello?”

  “You need to get back to the house right away,” Della says. “It’s an emergency.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sam

  “Thank you for coming,” Connor says, closing the door behind me.

  We’re in my father’s home office, and I’m pissed. I broke the speed limit the entire way here, sure I was going to pull up to the house and see an ambulance taking away my mom or something. But everyone’s fine. Connor just wanted to talk. Screw that.

  “What is this about?” I look at my phone to see if Liz has texted. I wonder if I could talk her into coming by my place tonight. I could cook for her again—something with that red sauce she loves so much, and wine. And after I could take her to bed and—

  “Sit down.” Connor nods to a seat, but I notice he doesn’t sit. He’s already pacing the length of the room, his face drawn, and his eyes tired. “We need to do some damage control.”