by L. E. Bross
Even when we were younger, running round the trailer park and getting into trouble, I knew there was something special about him. He was a good guy. Fair. Honest. I saw it whenever his friend Seth got into trouble, or when one of the smaller kids got picked on, or even the way he treated my grandma.
We started out as friends, but somewhere around eighth grade I started to see him differently. I’d been so afraid that if he knew, it would change everything. Then one night, the summer before we started freshman year, he kissed me on my grandma’s porch and asked if I’d be his girlfriend.
He was my first real friend. Then my boyfriend. Then he was my first first and I swore that it would be him forever. Looking back I can’t believe he let me go on and on about how many kids we’d have and the kind of house we’d have and even the color of our dog.
Part of me ached to be that girl again. So full of hope.
But now I had my life, and surely Ryan had his.
I couldn’t help the stab of jealousy that flared to life picturing him in someone else’s arms. He wasn’t mine. I knew that the day I realized what a mistake I had made, but it still didn’t make it hurt less. I had loved him. Enough to take my chances and trust that we would be the ones that surpassed the odds. I trusted him to take care of me.
My father had managed to change all that.
And I broke that good heart.
So I wouldn’t have blamed him a bit if he had just walked away like I’d done seven years ago, but instead he’d done exactly what he said he’d do. Around five yesterday, a tow truck pulled in and left my car right in front of the apartment.
Trustworthy. Dependable. Things I’d always known about Ryan. Things that had not changed over the years.
When the knock came at ten this morning, my heart was in my throat as I pulled open the door. Yesterday Noah wanted to go to the park first thing, so I threw on the only clean clothes I had and called it good. After an afternoon of doing laundry, I realized that all we had left to eat was a box of cereal and no milk.
When I ran into Ryan at the grocery, I was definitely not looking my best.
This morning I’d gotten up early, showered and blow-dried my hair, then used the straightener on it. I found my cutest top, a short-sleeved wispy blouse that had elastic at the waist and flattered my curves. It was supposed to get up to around seventy degrees today, so I opted for my favorite jeans even though they had a few faded spots.
I even put on a tiny bit of makeup. Not as much as if I were going to work, but enough to accentuate my eyes. Ryan told me once he thought my eyes were beautiful. Not that I was using that information at all.
After yesterday, when he saw me in my rattiest jeans and no makeup, I was determined to show him I could still clean up well. Maybe even make him notice me a little. Which was ridiculous, but it didn’t change anything.
And still, I wanted to look good for him.
My heart hammered in my chest when I answered the door. God, it was going to be one hundred shades of obvious that I got all made up for him. I wanted to run back into the bathroom and wash my face and pull my hair up, but it was too late.
With a deep breath, I pulled open the door.
“Hi.”
He stood there smiling and I was lost in his eyes.
“Can I come in?”
Shit. I swung the door wide. “Yes. Come in.”
Ryan stepped inside and I let the door close. The room immediately felt smaller. My skin tingled with awareness when he turned and his gaze lazily roamed down, then back up. “You look good. Maybe a little dressed up to change a starter . . .” He gave me that lopsided grin again and my cheeks turned even redder. Right. Car repairs.
“I can change . . .”
“No,” he said quickly. Now it was his turn to duck his head. “I mean, you’ll probably just be supervising and making sure Noah doesn’t get every inch of himself covered in grease, anyway.”
“He’ll be out in a sec. He’s getting dressed. All by himself,” I emphasized as I rolled my eyes affectionately. “Something he’s been very adamant about lately, now that he’s almost four. Practically a man, you know.”
Ryan chuckled and then we stood in awkward silence until I lifted an eyebrow and looked at the four to-go cups in his hand. “Are you expecting more help?”
“Oh, right. I didn’t know what you took in your coffee . . .” His eyebrows dipped down. “Hell, I’m not even sure if you still drink coffee, but there is a black, a chai latte—whatever that is—a mocha, and a cappuccino. I also grabbed a raisin bagel, a couple of glazed doughnuts, and a cheese Danish.”
“You brought us breakfast?” When was the last time anyone had done that? I thought back. Never. No one had ever brought me breakfast, much less several choices because he wasn’t sure what I liked.
It was amazingly thoughtful.
And totally unexpected.
And totally something Ryan would do.
I held his gaze a few seconds longer than I needed to. He smelled good, like minty soap and shampoo. He’d worn a dark red T-shirt and jeans and boots like yesterday and could have posed for some hunk-of-the-month calendar I’m sure.
His baseball cap was already on backward and I knew his eyes would be a tantalizingly rich mix of brown and green because I had never forgotten them.
“Yeah. Thought you guys might be hungry?” Ryan said, asking more than telling. “If you already ate, I’ll just set it on the counter for later.”
I stared at the holder. There was over twenty dollars’ worth of coffee, not to mention the baked goods, and he did it because he didn’t know what I liked? I was at a loss. I’d been with Jason for a year at Brown and he never once brought me coffee.
The little things, the small gestures: that’s what got me.
I remembered how good Ryan was at those. Like he didn’t even have to think about it. Biology notes when I had the flu. A note in my locker when I got a B on a test. Flowers on our first official date.
And after that night we had sex for the first time . . . I still had the necklace he gave me, the one with the crescent moon that said LOVE on it, tucked inside my jewelry box.
“So . . .” He looked so uncomfortable standing there that I jolted out of my nostalgic thoughts and took the coffee and bag from him.
“For the record, I love coffee, any kind as long as it’s hot. Noah adores doughnuts, not so much the coffee. It’s not really in vogue with the three-year-old set just now.” I smiled over my shoulder and set the bag on the secondhand coffee table I’d found at Goodwill. I knew I was babbling but I was still trying to process that Ryan had thought about me before he got here this morning. Having Ryan in my apartment should have felt weird, but it was strangely comfortable. He had yet to ask the questions I knew must be burning up his tongue. I took the coward’s way out and just stopped calling him. He deserved so much better than that now, but at the time . . . well, it was a different time in my life and I couldn’t go back.
And this? This was just a couple of hours.
“I hope you know what you’re in for. You might not get anything done with Noah helping, you know.”
I grabbed the chai latte, something I would never order myself because of the cost, and took a sip. I might have moaned out loud because Ryan’s gaze snapped to my lips. I felt the now-familiar heat climbing up my cheeks.
“Good choice,” I mumbled, trying to hide the embarrassment.
Ryan smiled and started toward me. My heart leapt in my chest. “I let the girl at the coffee shop choose.” He stopped just in front of me and I almost choked on my mouthful of chai. Oh, my God, was he going to kiss me?
Would I let him?
Was it getting hot in here?
Maybe it was just me.
Just when I thought he might lean in, he reached around me and took the black coffee, then stepped back. “Figured
this was a safe choice, but on the off chance you like your coffee plain, I don’t mind a good mocha.”
“Ryan!” a chipper voice called out.
I watched Noah as he came barreling out of the bathroom, and cringed. He had on a bright orange shirt with a dump truck printed on the front, and red checkered shorts and green socks and . . . his rain boots.
“Whoa.” I heard Ryan chuckle.
“Right?” I said with a laugh. But I could see the pride shining from Noah’s face when he came to a teetering stop in front of Ryan. Last night he’d talked about nothing but Ryan. He made sure his toolbox was ready right next to his bed and he even took a bath without a single complaint.
And he actually slept all night. Ryan was like the toddler whisperer.
“Hey, buddy. I brought doughnuts.” Ryan grabbed the bag and held it out. “Do you like doughnuts?”
Noah’s eyes got so big I thought they might pop out of his head, and he nodded vigorously. Doughnuts were a treat. With every single penny going toward necessities, it wasn’t often I splurged, even for something so small. I didn’t want to have to say no the next time Noah asked.
After Noah pulled out his doughnut, Ryan held the bag out for me. “Doughnut, Danish, or bagel.”
It had been so long since I’d had a Danish that my mouth was already watering before I even took a bite. How pathetic was that? I took a big bite and, this time, managed to keep my moans to myself. But oh, my God was it so good.
“We never get doughnuts,” Noah said. He grinned up at Ryan, his mouth covered in glaze. “Thank you.”
“Well there’s another one if you think you can eat it.”
“Wow, are you rich?” Noah said, reaching into the bag. “We can’t ’ford doughnuts no more.”
The last of the Danish turned to dust in my mouth. My face felt like it was on fire. I washed down the Danish with a mouthful of chai and glanced at Ryan out of the corner of my eye. I’m sure he could tell by the apartment and my car that we weren’t rolling in it, but still.
I waited for the look of triumph on his face. Something that said, Ha, not so successful now, are you?
Instead, he shifted his feet and cleared his throat. “So, you ready to get to work, bud?”
“Ready!” Noah grabbed his toolbox, a bright red plastic thing I found at the dollar store last year. It was cheaply made and the handle had broken off a week after he got it. But it was one of the few toys he had and he treasured that beat-up thing.
Ryan held the door and Noah ducked under his arm like they did it all the time.
I set down my cup and followed. Not that I’d be any help at all, but Ryan might need interference with Noah.
“Thank you for breakfast,” I said as I moved past him.
“Not a problem.” His timing was perfect because I felt his hot breath on my shoulder and almost tripped out the door. His hand shot out and took my elbow to steady me. Electricity zinged up my arm and I forgot how to breathe for a second.
“Thanks,” I breathed out. I somehow made it down the stairs without falling on my face, even though I could feel him right there behind me. By the time I got to the ground, I was covered in goose bumps.
I unlocked the car and pulled the hood release while he jogged over to grab a bag and a toolbox out of the back of his truck. He set everything down and lifted the hood.
“Whoa,” Noah said, leaning his body half inside the engine compartment.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Ryan asked. He kneeled down and lifted things out of the bag. A smallish square box. Several even smaller boxes. “So what we need to do first is take out the old starter . . .”
I watched as he opened his toolbox and took out . . . something. I knew what a hammer looked like but that was about it. The things he was taking out . . . I had no idea what they were. Ryan lifted Noah and stood him on the bumper. I moved in behind him just in case he fell, and found myself right next to Ryan.
There wasn’t a lot of room under the hood of a Honda.
So there we were, three heads hovering over the engine of my car on a Saturday morning, fixing the starter. Ryan let Noah hold the tools and the new starter, and Noah did everything Ryan asked. It probably took Ryan twice as long because Noah kept pointing and asking questions. Ryan opened the smaller boxes to reveal four small bulblike things.
He handed them to Noah, who clutched them in his hands like they were prized M&M’s. One by one, an old one was pulled from somewhere and a new one put in. It took me until the third one to notice he wasn’t working around where he’d been before.
“What are those?” I asked.
“Spark plugs. I noticed that yours were pretty rough-looking. Might as well replace them while I’m here, right?” He ducked his head farther under the hood.
“How much do they cost?” My tone sounded sharper than intended, but I’d already pulled fifty from the teapot above the fridge. It was like removing a limb to take money from my bill money, it was one thing I had to keep on top of, but I had to do it. A couple more dollars I could do, but anything more . . .
“Don’t worry about it. They practically give ’em away. There, all set.” He stood up and grabbed the rag off the bumper.
I lifted Noah and set him down on the ground. He had more grease on him than Ryan did. When Ryan handed him the rag, Noah took it and wiped his hands just like Ryan had. A pang shot through my chest. They had the same dirty-blond hair. God, they could be father and son to anyone looking.
The thought nearly knocked me on my ass.
What the hell?
I reached into my jeans and pulled out the cash. “Fifty, right?” Handing it to Ryan felt awkward, especially given the business I was in, but I swallowed against the feeling. He fixed my car. That was all.
That’s all it would ever be.
And after today, I’d probably never see him again.
My chest ached at the thought. Even though I knew we had our chance and I blew it, I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if I’d ignored my father and called Ryan anyway. Would we still be together? Would I have been able to weather all the shit that happened better if he’d been by my side? Ryan would never have walked out like Jason, my college boyfriend, did when he found out about Noah.
I mentally shook my head.
It didn’t matter now.
But Ryan inadvertently gave me a sneak peek at how it should have been for Noah. Seeing them together, doing things that a father and son would do, hit closer to home than I wanted to admit. Guilt that wasn’t mine to bear burned in my stomach.
He should have had a much different life.
“Time to wash up,” I told Noah. My voice cracked and the smile plastered on my face shook. I hoped that Ryan didn’t notice.
Noah started whining immediately.
“I’m gonna go get cleaned up too. You were a great helper today, Noah. Thank you.” Ryan took a few steps and held out his hand. Noah took it and they shook. The image blurred and I turned my back on them. No man had been this nice to Noah before. I could see how much it meant to him too. His smile was huge.
“Thank you again,” I managed to get out. His gaze was on me. I felt it. But I didn’t look up. Couldn’t. I was back on the ledge again and afraid I was getting ready to tumble over.
“Listen, Tess . . .” Ryan started to say.
I panicked and pretended I didn’t hear him. I couldn’t do this now. I felt too raw to explain everything that had happened, who Noah really was, why I was living in this dump. Ryan probably assumed Noah was my son, just like everyone else, and that was okay.
It also prevented a lot of unnecessary come-ons. A woman with a kid tended to scare away a lot of guys. It certainly had made Jason run the other way. I couldn’t deal with letting someone in only to watch him bolt when things got hard.
Not that Ryan was a possibility. I w
as the one who let him fade out of my new life. Out of everyone, he deserved an explanation the most, but I just couldn’t do it. Not today. Maybe never. Because telling him the truth would be admitting that I was weak. That I put a future my father dangled like a carrot higher than us.
“Thank you. Again,” I said too fast as I ushered Noah toward the steps. I glanced over my shoulder. Ryan was still standing there. I lifted my hand and sort of half waved, then did my best to focus on the steps. One by one I made it up the stairs. My stomach ached. I wasn’t going to see him again.
“Goodbye, Tess,” I heard him say.
“’Bye, Ryan,” I replied softly. But I was turned away, so he couldn’t hear the break in my voice as I said the words that had separated us all those years ago.
CHAPTER SIX
ryan
“They aren’t half bad,” I said to Shari.
Shari and I met Seth and Avery at the park Sunday afternoon, and somehow Shari worked her magic and we got center-stage seats though there was no assigned seating. I’m sure it helped when she name-dropped her father’s record company name.
“They have a new kind of sound without being over the top.” She pulled out her phone and recorded some of the set.
I glanced over at Seth and saw he had his arm around Avery’s shoulders and she leaned into him, her hand on his thigh. They were connected even though both of them were intent on the music. Every once in a while, Seth would brush his fingers over her hair, or along her neck, and she would look over at him and smile.
Yeah, I admit, love worked . . . for other people.
I looked at Shari. She was a hell of a lot of fun and had a wicked sense of humor. After graduation she’d cut her hair about shoulder length and colored over the red streaks. Now it was a warm brown color that reminded me of caramel and almost matched her eyes perfectly. She did it all to look more professional. Now that she was interning three days a week at some fancy interior-decorating place for people with too much money, she had to play the part.
