“I can’t.” His face, what she could see of it, had gone pale, and sweat covered his forehead. “Tell them I already ate.”
“Ryan—”
“Please, Paige.” His tone was desperate, and his jaw muscle twitched. “Not tonight. I promise to let you help me pick out a cell phone real soon, only…I…I just can’t be around a bunch of people right now.”
He shut the door, and she stared at it for several seconds, wondering what to do. Her mind flew back to when Noah first came home from the VA hospital. She’d seen her brother get shaky like that. It had been more than two years, though, and Noah had come so far. Why hadn’t Ryan? She wanted to pound on his door until he let her in. Not just into his apartment, but into his head, and maybe even his heart.
Whoa! No, no, no. She had a promising career ahead of her. She had goals. Ryan brought out her nurturing instinct the same way an injured stray would. That was all.
Sure. Keep telling yourself that.
One thing for certain, she had to tell Noah. She made her way back to the patio, where he was dropping burgers and brats on the grill. “Ryan isn’t doing too well. He won’t come.”
“Hmmm. Here, you take over, and I’ll go talk to him.”
“He’s been drinking, Noah. He broke out into a sweat and got all shaky at the thought of being around people.”
“Damn.”
“Right. Damn.” Something about Ryan got to her, made her want to drag him kicking and screaming back to the world of the living. “How come you’ve gotten so much better, and he hasn’t?” She had to swallow the unexpected constriction in her throat.
“It’s the isolation. You can’t get better in a vacuum.” Noah’s brow lowered. “Let’s let him be tonight, and I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”
“Toby really does make a mess, doesn’t he?” Paige picked up his cup off the kitchen floor for the fifth time and set it back on his high chair. He threw a banana-smooshed Cheerio at her, and it stuck in her hair. “Hey, little man.” She sent him a mock frown, eliciting a giggle.
“He sure does.” Ceejay wiped down the counter and grinned. “That’s my boy.” At his mom’s words, Toby started to squirm.
“Mama, Mama, down.” He slapped both hands into the mess he’d made on the tray.
“I guess he’s done with breakfast. I’m going to let in Sweet Pea to pick up the rest of the cereal from the floor.” Ceejay headed for her son with a washcloth in hand. She wiped him off, and then the tray. “Lucinda’s school bus drops her off at three twenty. Would you mind meeting her at the end of the driveway? I know she can manage to walk by herself, but I worry.”
“I don’t mind at all. Me and the squirt here will have a nice little walk together.” She tousled Toby’s downy-soft hair. “Where are you and Noah heading this afternoon?”
A dreamy expression filled her sister-in-law’s face, and a twinge of jealousy tugged at Paige, taking her by surprise. What the hell? What was going on with her, anyway? She was nothing but happy for Noah and Ceejay.
“We’re having dinner where we had our first real date. We’ll be at the Red Geranium, and we also reserved a room at the New Harmony Inn. Don’t worry, though, we’ll be home before the kids wake up tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t rush. Stay and have breakfast.” Paige reached down and lifted Toby onto her lap. “We’ll be fine. Won’t we, Toby?” She clapped his chubby hands together and kissed his cheek. “Ted is bringing pizza and movies over tonight.”
Ceejay’s brow rose. “You know he has a crush on you, right?”
“He does not. He’s more like a kid brother.”
“Not to him. Ted doesn’t look at you like a sister, believe me.”
Paige’s cell vibrated in her back pocket. She put Toby down to toddle around the kitchen and grabbed her phone. Noah’s number showed on the screen. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Ryan is a no-show again. Can you go wake him up and tell him to get his butt to work?”
She bit her lip. How much had Ryan drunk last night?
“Paige?” Noah said.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get right on it.” She stood, stuffing her phone back in her pocket, and headed for her purse, resting on the counter. “Can you stick around for a little while longer, Ceejay?” She fished the carriage house key out of her bag. “I have to go deal with a Ryan situation.”
“Sure. I don’t have to leave for another hour and a half.” She lifted Toby to her hip. “Send Sweet Pea in for cleanup on your way out.”
Paige nodded and let the dog in as she slipped out the back. Her heart was in her throat by the time she reached Ryan’s door. Was he passed out, or had he overslept? She knocked, suspecting he wouldn’t answer. He didn’t. Knocking harder the second time, she waited. Nothing.
Sucking in a breath for courage, she put the key in the door and opened it as quietly as possible. The window blinds were closed, but she could see Ryan’s inert form on the couch. She crossed to a window and opened the blinds. Morning light flooded the room. Turning slowly, she took it all in.
He lay on his side with an empty whisky bottle clutched to his bare chest. He didn’t stir. The coffee table drew her attention. A folded piece of stationery, two pictures, and a gun had been laid out in a military-precision-straight row. She crept closer and looked down at the items. One of the pictures she’d seen before. Noah had the same one of Task Force Iron, the heavy-combat platoon under her brother’s command. It had been taken right after their first deployment to Iraq.
She looked at the next picture, that of a very pretty young woman with wavy brown hair and dark-brown eyes. The photo had been laminated. Obvious signs of frequent handling curled the corners. Who was she? Someone who meant a lot to Ryan, that’s who. Another one of those annoying pangs of jealousy gave her a pinch.
Paige reached for the folded paper, opened it, and started reading. She gasped and covered her mouth to stifle the cry already on its way out of her mouth. Hot tears of helplessness and rage filled her eyes. Damn him.
Folding up the letter, she returned it to the table and took a few steps back. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, hit the camera icon, took careful aim so that everything would be clear, and snapped the picture. She sent the image to her brother and texted: Ryan is suicidal. Come. Home. Now.
She didn’t know what to do with herself. Should she wake him? Leave? Stay? No. She should stay until her brother arrived. Best not to leave Ryan alone. She moved into the kitchen and started going through his cabinets until she found coffee. She fussed with the coffee machine and got a pot started. He’d be hungover. Coffee would be good.
Her insides twisted with turmoil as empathy warred with anger. Ryan was lucky he was still out, otherwise he’d be getting an earful right now. She wanted to smack him upside the head and hold him in her arms all at the same time, and she didn’t know how to handle either feeling.
“What are you doing here?” Ryan rasped from his place on the couch. The whisky bottle thunked to the floor.
“I’m making coffee. What does it look like I’m doing?” She couldn’t face him, couldn’t face the haunted look in his eyes now that she knew what it meant. “Noah is on his way. You’re late for work. Again.”
“You coulda just woke me up, you know. You didn’t have to call your brother.”
“Oh, yeah, I did.” She kept her back to him while the battle between her heart and head waged on. Pissed. Mostly, she was just pissed.
“Nobody asked you to come into my place.”
His surly tone grated on her last nerve. She whipped around and stomped over to him. “Actually, your employer asked me to check on you. You remember him? The man who placed his faith in you? The man who gave you a job in the hopes that you’d make something of yourself?”
He averted his gaze, but she didn’t miss the rapid bob of his Adam’s apple or the brightness in his eyes. All her anger dissipated, and the vacuum left in its wake filled with heartbreak. What kind of pain did you have to be in to co
ntemplate ending your own life?
Thank God she heard footsteps outside, because she had no idea what to do next. Noah walked into the room and surveyed everything, including the empty whisky bottle. He picked up the suicide letter, skimmed it, and faced Ryan with a grim expression.
Paige grabbed the gun from the coffee table and headed for the door. “I’ll leave you two alone to talk.”
“Hey, where do you think you’re going with my gun?”
Without another word, Paige kept right on walking—all the way down the sloped lawn to the Ohio River. Standing still as stone on the bank, she watched the spring-swollen muddy water flow by while visions of Noah in the VA burn unit flashed through her mind.
The second- and third-degree burns blistering along her brother’s left side, along with his gauze-wrapped stump, caused him so much agony. For months, he wouldn’t talk to any of them unless he was lashing out in explosive anger. Her invincible brother had always been her hero. His withdrawal and uncharacteristic hostility had frightened her. Had he ever considered ending it all?
She stared at the gun in her hand, then brought her arm back and flung the revolver as far as she could, gratified to see she’d managed to get it all the way to the middle of the river. It landed with a plop and a splash and sank into the murky depths.
She’d only known Ryan for a handful of days, but she’d glimpsed the suffering in his eyes and heard the pain in his voice. He isolated and drank himself into a stupor every night. He saw ending his life as the only way out of the pain and despair he suffered, and that tore her apart.
Paige remained fixed to the spot, watching the river as her tears formed their own currents down her cheeks. How petty and selfish could she be? She’d lost a job. Big deal. Her situation hardly registered when compared to what Noah and Ryan faced every day of their lives. No more pity-party for her. For as long as she remained in Perfect, she’d do her best to see that Ryan didn’t face his demons alone.
CHAPTER FOUR
RYAN’S FORMER LIEUTENANT RUBBED THE back of his skull with the palm of his hand, which meant he was thinking things through before he spoke. Shit. Ryan had seen him do the very same thing countless times in Iraq, usually when he had a lecture coming to him.
“I’m not an alcoholic.” He swallowed hard. “I never drink during the day, only at night. It’s the only way I can get any rest.”
Noah turned his commander stare on him. “How’s that working out for you?”
“It’s not.” Defeated, Ryan rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands as his eyes filled. Fuck. I’ve turned into a blubbering idiot. Wasn’t it bad enough that Paige had seen him passed out with an empty whisky bottle clutched to his chest? Did he have to make it worse by crying in front of Noah?
Noah’s weight shifted the cushions of the couch as he sat down. “There’s more to this than Iraq. Am I right?”
Ryan nodded, not trusting his voice.
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
Hell no. If Theresa’s name passed through his lips, he’d break down completely. He shook his head.
“Self-medicating only exacerbates our problems, Ryan. You know that.”
Another nod was all he could manage. Holding it together took everything he had.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Noah’s voice was dead calm and his tone low. “I don’t want my wife or my children to ever see someone they know and care about carried out of this apartment in a body bag. I don’t want to see that. Which means you have some decisions to make.”
Ryan forced himself to sit up. “I’m not going to off myself. Sometimes the pain gets to be too much, and I—”
“You’re going to make an appointment to see a therapist at the Marion VA center in Evansville,” Noah commanded. “That’s not all. I get together with a group of veterans every Tuesday night. You want to keep this job, the drinking stops now. You’re going to start coming with me to group, and you’re going to see a therapist on a regular basis.”
Noah placed his hand on Ryan’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I know about the pain and being haunted, believe me. I understand what you’re going through, but I can’t have this”—he gestured to the suicide letter and the empty whisky bottle on the floor—“anywhere near my family. I didn’t bring you here just to lose you again.” Noah’s voice came out a hoarse rasp.
Ryan nodded, robbed of speech yet again. Paige was right. Noah had given him a chance to improve his life, and he’d almost squandered what he had. Worse, he’d broken Noah’s trust—further proof that everything he touched turned to shit. “I’m sorry, man. I know I’ve let you down.”
“No, you haven’t. Not yet. You have the weekend to think things over. I expect your decision by Monday morning.”
Ryan blew out a shaky breath. The decision was already made. No way did he want to lose the little scrap of sanity working with Noah provided for eight hours each day. It was the nights and weekends that twisted him. “All right.”
“I’m going to tell you what my wife told me a few months after I landed here. To heal, you have to find your passion. You need something in your life that takes you out of yourself, out of your PTSD, and fills you up with something better.”
“I don’t know what that is.” Tears filled Ryan’s eyes again, and hopelessness opened its ugly maw to swallow him whole. “I’ve been lost for so damned long…I’m afraid I won’t…that I can’t…”
Noah’s arms came around his shoulders. He gave him a fierce hug and let him go. “You will, and you can. You’re not alone, bro. Now, get ready for work.”
Ryan scrubbed at his face with both hands. “Paige isn’t going to be there today, is she?” God, could he sound any more pathetic?
“No, she’s not.” Noah grunted. “You have enough on your plate without adding Paige to the mix. You need to focus on getting your own shit together right now. Let it go.”
“Right.” Sucktacular. Noah had seen right through him. Time to steer the subject in another direction. “There’s something I’ve been wondering.” He glanced at Noah. “Why did you call that second time?”
Noah’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“The night you called me with the job offer. The phone rang. I didn’t answer, and then it rang again a few minutes later. What made you decide to call back that second time?”
“I didn’t. I only made the one call.”
Ryan’s skin prickled the way it did when his ghosts visited, leaving goose bumps in its wake. “Probably my folks.”
“Huh. That’s another thing. When’s the last time you called your mom?”
“Damn, Noah.” He scrubbed his face again.
“Had enough, eh?” Noah slapped Ryan’s back and rose from the couch. “Call your folks. I’m sure they’d appreciate knowing where you are and that you’re alive.”
“Sure.” No way. Ryan watched Noah cross the room to the door.
“I’ll drive you to work from now on. Come up to the big house when you’re ready.” Noah walked outside and came right back in. “Paige is down by the river. I don’t like the idea of my little sister with your .357 in her hands. Your gun. Your problem. You hear me?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll take care of it.” Ryan hurried to his bedroom, dropped his cutoff sweats, and pulled on jeans and a T-shirt while steeling himself for whatever flack he’d get from Paige. Once he was out the door, he caught sight of her. She had her back to him, and her arms were wrapped around her midsection as if she were in a world of hurt. Fragile. He’d done that. His poor heart sank to the hollow bottom of his gut.
Both her hands were visible, and neither one held his gun. At least she wouldn’t shoot him. He came up beside her, jamming his hands into his pockets to keep from dragging her into his arms. “What did you do with my gun?”
She pointed to the middle of the river and made a jerky, breathy sound.
Was that a hiccup? Ryan turned to check her out. “Are you crying?”
“Of course I’m crying, you idiot.” She took a swing, connecting with his biceps. “No more guns. No more suicide notes. No more suicidal thoughts. Or I’ll shoot you myself.” Another fist connected with his shoulder. “Do you hear me, Ryan? Never. Ever. Again.”
“You don’t understand.” His chest twisted into a tight mess, and his damn eyes filled again.
“You’re right. I don’t. How could you possibly see suicide as an acceptable option?” She sniffed and swiped at her eyes. “I can’t imagine the kind of pain you’re in, but I have news for you. Suicide leaves everyone around you with a load of shit they don’t deserve.”
“Hey, now—”
“Are your parents still living?” She turned to face him, her expression full of anguish. “Can you imagine for a second what it would be like to lose a child that way?” She turned back to stare at the Ohio. “A good friend of mine from high school lost her father to suicide. I understand plenty.”
“No, you don’t.” Her words salted the open wounds in his soul. “You might think you do, but you don’t.” Anger and frustration pulsed through him. Who did she think she was to talk to him like that? Then she did something so unexpected and amazing that all the anger left him in a whoosh—along with all the air in his lungs. She snaked her arms around his waist and held him, laying her cheek against his shoulder.
“You survived, Ryan,” she whispered. “That’s a gift. Instead of falling to your knees and thanking the powers that be, you want to put a bullet through your head?” She leaned her head back to look at him, and her eyes plumbed his with a depth that drew him under for the count.
“It’s you who doesn’t understand, cowboy. You’re too close to the pain. Don’t you see? You’ve lost all perspective and have no objectivity.”
The subtle musky scent of her perfume wafted up around him, mixed with her own unique smell. He could get drunk on that alone. Oh, Lord. I’m lost. He tangled his fingers in her silken hair, tipped up her face, and let his mouth collide with hers like a heat-seeking missile. Wrapping his arms around her, he hung on for dear life. Miracle of miracles, she kissed him back.
The Difference a Day Makes (Perfect, Indiana: Book Two) Page 6
