Ryder (The Razer Series, #1.5)

by Sands, K A

  “Tell me you’ll fix this? Make her smile again?”

  “I intend to, how can I not? Taylor is my life. We’re having a baby. It doesn’t change anything from where I’m standing, only makes this more urgent.”

  Laura winced. I didn’t know if it was the mention of Taylor’s pregnancy or another thing. Lucca talked to me, I was aware she couldn’t have any children and I saw how much it cut him up, so I could only imagine how she felt. The specifics were irrelevant but her sister having a baby must have been a hard pill to swallow for her deep down.

  “She’ll be an amazing mum.”

  Now, wasn’t that a fact? “Yes. She will. I’ll do the best I can to be a good father. Taylor is it for me, there’s no one else. And Laura...” I reached to put a hand on her arm hoping it didn’t come across as condescending, “...you’re going to be the best aunty.”

  Not sure how far my assurances soothed Laura, I turned around and continued to make coffee, jumping when she put her hand on my back, unsure why. Maybe because Laura wasn’t known for touching? Maybe because my nerves were wound tight? Who knew? But her touch went a long way to showing I hadn’t lost the battle with her.

  “Lucca mentioned the police are coming after lunch.”

  “Great.” I smiled to myself. “First step into clearing this mess up. I’m as puzzled as you, Laura.”

  “Yeah...” She sighed then moved towards the sink to grab another cup from the draining board. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. It’s my sister, she asked me not to and she comes first. Always.”

  Laura felt bad and I took pity on her. “Hey, I get it. I said so last night. Don’t worry about it, we’ll figure it out.”

  “Stella’s involved with this, right?” Laura set her mug down and I didn’t fail to notice the tremble in her hand.

  “They’re best friends. Well - as close as Stella lets anyone get, I guess. So yes, likelihood is, she’s playing a part.”

  “Lucca can’t find her.”

  “No.”

  What more was there to say? Stella had gone to ground, I still didn’t know the full story of what happened the night of the fire between Laura, Stella and Adam. I didn’t need those details, the fact that she was there said enough in itself. She was laying low for good reason, never a good sign where Stella was concerned.

  “You excited you’re going to be an aunt?” Not sure where the subject change came from I rolled with it anyway and turned to Laura. She was grinning, any previous apprehension clearly gone, and I gave her a huge smile back, a genuine one.

  “Oh yeah. Favourite aunty right here.” She pointed to herself and I looked her up and down. She truly was a beauty, much like her sister, yet her personality was so different from Taylor’s. It was understandable considering her past. I tracked the length of the scar across her neck she no longer hid around people and felt a spark of rage. A man she had loved had done that to her, it was too foreign to comprehend he’d marked her in such an abhorrent way.

  On the bright side, if anyone was going to love Laura and help exorcise her demons it would be Lucca. This woman standing beaming at me because her sister was pregnant was a force to be reckoned with and had all the love in the world for those she held dear. My son or daughter would be no different.

  Shit! We were having a baby, I was gonna be a dad and it still hadn’t sunk in properly. I bent forward and gripped the edge of the counter top, head tilted down to my chest as I dragged in deep breaths, letting the moment wash over me, the magnitude of my life finally catching up. The room felt heavy and my vision spun, only vaguely hearing Laura’s muffled words which made no sense.

  I was gonna be a father...

  My knees almost buckled, I had to hold on for dear life, so I wouldn’t fall to the floor. Delicate arms came around my waist as Laura pushed her weight into my back, holding me steady, giving me a measure of peace I needed right then. She comforted me as she laid her head on my shoulder and we stood for a while.

  “You can do this, Ryder. I know you can.” The ringing of a phone brought us from the bizarre exchange and Laura pulled away, walking toward the kitchen island. “I need to take this.”

  I composed myself as best I could, getting back to the task of making coffee, the kettle long since boiled. Machines were beyond me and Lucca always kept good old-fashioned coffee granules in his cupboard. I reached up to pull out the canister reserved for me, no longer hearing Laura in the background, presuming she’d left the room. I swivelled on sock clad feet to grab milk from the fridge when I saw she was hunched on the floor, her phone at her feet.

  Quickly moving to her, I kneeled on the floor, hearing someone’s tinny voice from beside me. I put my hand on her knee as I lifted her phone and held it to my ear, a man crying was heard on the other end.

  “I’ll get Lucca...”

  Eleven

  I loathed the confines of a shirt and tie, the suit jacket worse. Having worn them plenty enough to business meetings, they were the least favourite garment I owned. Anytime I needed to wear a suit I’d mump and moan to anyone within earshot, normally Lucca. He’d cop an earful every time I tugged at my tie. He was comfortable in business attire. Me - I was a jeans and t-shirt dude, didn’t apologise for it.

  Not today though. Today, I’d wear the goddamned thing and not utter a single word of complaint about it. Every male gathered in the small church was dressed the same way. The women wore darkened colours, complementing the stiff suits.

  I’d stayed with Lucca since Laura had received that awful phone call some days before. He’d driven her up to her dad’s and returned the same day, which had surprised me. I’d thought he’d stay with Laura, but she’d insisted he came back to Beaufort. The girls had wanted to be alone to grieve the loss of their mother with their father and Lucca had respected Laura’s wishes, encouraged it even. We’d travelled up the night before the funeral and stayed at our York hotel - The V - in order to attend. Both Taylor and Laura had requested our presence, there was no way I was declining even if I still hadn’t talked to Taylor. I hadn’t seen her either, I was anxious because she’d be a mess and all I’d want to do was go to her. Be what she needed. But this day was not ours - I’d let her make her cues and tell me when she needed me, hoping she would. I still missed her like fucking crazy. A funeral wasn’t the time nor the place to be dragging up the messy motions we were currently knee-deep in. Taylor had enough with grieving the sudden loss of her mother. She’d come when she was ready, she knew where I was.

  Lucca had his hand on my shoulder as we stood stoically side by side and I turned my head his way, ignoring the hushed chatter that seemed amplified in the small, drafty church.

  “You okay, bro?” Was I? Emille’s death had been a shock, having been found in the conservatory after what we had been told was a stroke. She’d been up early, and from what I understood, from Lucca’s retelling, had been alone for hours before someone thought to go looking. Taylor had discovered her mother’s cold body lying on the floor, inches from the closed door. But her passing was not at the forefront of my mind. How Taylor was coping, was. “Laura says she’s doing all right. We’ll see them soon, then you can be with her.”

  “No,” I shook my head, “I’m here if she needs me but this is not the place to go barging in and taking over.”

  He rubbed a finger over his bottom lip, looking pensively at me. “Maybe...” He scanned around the church. “She’s going to need a pillar. Be that for her.”

  I, too, let my gaze wander around the room. The girls’ presence was sure to get tongues wagging, even at their mother’s funeral. There’d been no official declaration from the family about their sudden re-appearance. The police had sniffed around, they’d told their story to those that mattered, had kept it from the press with Phil’s influence. Today would be difficult enough without the gossip mill churning, which it surely would.

  Subdued music droned throughout the main body of the room. I couldn’t make out the hymn, but it encapsulated the sombr
e mood of the mourners. Emille and Philip Hamilton were well known people and the number of mourners were testament to that, most faces were as stony and reflective as my own.

  Emille’s closed coffin stood solemn at the front of the sanctuary, raised before the altar, surrounded by cascades of white flowers and green foliage. The sight serene but devastating.

  A shushed commotion toward the back of the church stole my awareness from the flowers and I turned to see Phil standing at the door, daughters by his side - one on either arm. Both red eyed and despondent. I wasn’t quite sure who was holding who up among them. Not one looked better than the other, all three barely looking like they had the strength to put one foot in front of the other. They would though, that’s how this family was. Together, and strong. No matter the appearances.

  Taylor glanced out toward the sea of people, my heart pitched when she saw me immediately, her sorrowful eyes dimmed as she looked me over. She gave me a tight smile then her attention flicked back to whatever the vicar was saying to her father.

  Yeah...my girl wasn’t coping. She looked destroyed.

  Her big black coat hid what I knew was underneath, but her free arm lay across her stomach, as if our baby needed the protection. I bowed my head and hoped I’d have the chance to be the father I’d promised Laura I’d be.

  Tomorrow...tomorrow was another day for us, a day we could begin to pick up our pieces and move forward. Today was for saying painful goodbyes and laying a loved one to rest.

  Twelve

  What a beautiful tribute the service had been to Emille Hamilton’s life. The internment however; a terrible reminder to many that life was too short, fragile - snatched too soon with no say as to when our time came.

  Taylor and Laura had stood tall for their father, often catching him when he faltered. The epitome of love stood huddled together not more than five feet away from me and Lucca as Emille was finally laid to rest.

  The sun had shone, a brief glimmer through the grey, drab day as one last graveside hymn was sung among teary eyed mourners, and one last rose was dropped atop the wooden casket. One by one, condolences were offered, then people shuffled away, leaving the five of us grasping the uncertainty of life.

  I felt a chilled hand in mine and I squeezed tighter as I turned into the body at my side, wrapping Taylor in a one-armed hug that may have been a little too tight for her, but not the occasion. I nosed her hair, desperate for the smell of her to fill my lungs, while she clutched at me like I was her life line. Selfish or not, I didn’t care, it felt good. I didn’t want to let her go.

  As she buried her face into my chest, a hiccupped sob escaped, and it wasn’t long before Taylor’s body swayed further into mine. She was asking me without words for some strength, of which I’d gladly give her.

  This is what we did for the ones we loved.

  For a few seconds it was only Taylor and I, all else fell away. I held my woman, absorbing her grief until emotions settled and she felt able enough to gather herself. I’d loved to have been able to whisk her away and have her to myself, but the day was far from over. Standing graveside sobbing was never a good way to spend any day and there was still the wake to attend.

  “Thank you for coming, son.”

  Phil’s shaky and frail looking hand rested on my arm as he came up to stand at my other side. The word ‘son’ wasn’t lost on me. I’d often wondered how different my life would’ve been had I had a father like the man Phil was. To be a part of Taylor’s family would be an honour and I was itching to make it so. To make his daughter happy.

  Taylor untangled herself from me allowing me to give my concentration to Phil. I did so without hesitation. “I’m so sorry about Emille.”

  What more could be said? The man’s wife had died and I’m sure he was sick of hearing the same thing over and over. Phil grimaced when I pulled him into a hug, one which he held on tight to. I felt his loss in the way he gripped my jacket and stuttered out a barely legible ‘thank you.’

  Taylor then took hands. Her father’s in one, mine in the other and guided us towards the ominous hearse with the blacked-out windows waiting at the side of the cemetery road. The first to arrive - the last to leave.

  With a kiss and a hug, Lucca and I left the girls with their father and trudged to Lucca’s car that was parked outside the gates, not wanting to intrude on the funeral procession. When I looked up, grey clouds pressed in. No more sunshine. As if somehow even the sky knew Emille’s light had been snuffed far too soon and her life would be a great and sad loss to many.

  * * *

  Loud chatter filled my ears as I crossed the threshold of the large dining room in Phil’s house. Black adorned bodies milled around, dainty plates and china tea cups clutched in women’s hands, amber filled tumblers in the men’s.

  When I spied Taylor across the room, she had removed her heavy coat and was standing talking to a woman that bore a striking resemblance to her mother. It was only then I noticed what I hadn’t before. The small bump around her belly. No mistaking she was pregnant. The urge to go to her, surround her, protect her, ate at me. My son or daughter was growing inside a woman who seemed almost out of reach.

  Taylor’s fatigued persona couldn’t hide the subtle glow I now saw with clarity, she looked far better than when I’d seen her in the pub, despite puffy red eyes and slouched shoulders. She knew she had to take care of herself despite the awful distractions in her life. At least it seemed she was attempting to.

  “She’s beautiful. It suits her.”

  I twirled on my feet and came face to face with Phil, a smile tugging at his lips. He loved Taylor fiercely, I knew he did and I could only hope he would let me love her too. “She is.” I agreed. Taylor had never been anything but beautiful to me even when our disagreements turned ugly. Even when I’d professed to hate her for leaving with no trace all those years.

  “She has so much more of her mother in her than Laura, it’s almost scary.”

  “You raised two gorgeous women, Phil.”

  “That I did.” Pride crossed his face as he stood taller, still watching his daughter. He leaned in closer, as if to impart a secret. “I’m only sorry my wife was taken too soon to see our Taylor flourish.” I tipped my head at him in acknowledgement of his words. “That will be the hardest for her, son. Her mother won’t be around to see the grandbaby and watch her grow. You need to help her with it, remind her of the good times and not let her wallow in the fact her mother is gone.”

  I hadn’t even entertained the thought of Emille not getting to meet her first grandchild, the truth leaving me blue. “I will. I promise you. I don’t intend to spend another day without her.”

  Phil stared at me with watery eyes. “No. I don’t expect you do. Life is too fickle, son. Give them a good one.”

  Leaving me, Phil wandered off to work the room. I noticed how at ease he was, how he imparted strength to others even though his loss was greater. I could see where his girls got their integrity, how he’d handed down his better traits, so his daughters could shoulder any burden life threw their way. And they had. Taylor and Laura were just a little broken, a lot scarred, but both had an intensity for life. Their trials and tribulations had not kept them down. Perhaps now was the time to put all else to bed, start over and show them they didn’t need to live with one foot out the door all the time.

  Lucca was half way there with Laura, who’d bore the brunt of their tragic past. I was determined to be the same with Taylor. My love deserved an eternity and more of the best life had to offer. It was my job to make that happen.

  Thirteen

  “Can you stay?”

  “You want me to?”

  Taylor had grabbed my hand and dragged me into a sort of cloakroom or whatever at the back of the huge house. It may have been a boot room judging by the wellies and mud covering the floor. She stood close to me, my back pressed against the wall, my head knocking into a picture frame behind me. She didn’t seem to notice, I wasn’t even sure she realised
she was standing so close to me.

  But she was - close. I could see how tired she was beneath her make-up and how much the day had taken its toll on her. She needed to rest, to lie down.

  “Yeah. I do, Ryder. But I feel like a bitch for asking.”

  Any other time I would have teased her, but it wasn’t appropriate no matter how much I wanted to lighten her mood, make her smile, entice her to ignore where she was for a while.

  “I’m tired. So tired, and I want to go lie down. But I need you. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed your hugs and your kisses, and I don’t care about much else right now except getting off my feet, going to lie down and forget...” she took a deep breath, “...with you.”

  Taylor often forgot herself and rambled off on tangents when she was sleepy. One of her more endearing traits. The oppression of the day lifted a bit as I studied weary, bloodshot eyes that still took my breath away. Chest to chest, or rather head to chest as I was far taller than she was, we stood. Her forehead knocked against the column of my throat and unsteady hands gripped the sides of my suit jacket. Taylor’s frayed state was too much to bear so I wrapped my arms around her, caging her against my body. “Okay.” I whispered into her hair. “Whatever you need, baby.”

  “I need you.” Her words were no declaration of love, but it was a start.

  “You wanna disappear for a few hours? Lead the way.”

  I’d never been in Phil’s house proper, we’d never been up to stay, always opting to meet somewhere. Both Taylor’s parents enjoyed their jaunts to hotels and were content to stay somewhere close to Beaufort and make a weekend of it. Maybe Phil would still do that, the loss of his wife was devastating and as harsh as it sounded - life went on.

  Taylor appeared content to stand for a few extra minutes, maybe she needed it right then. I’d follow when ready. Faint chatter drifted from behind the closed door reminding me where we were. Not too far from the purpose of Taylor’s solemn mood.