Ryder's Bride (Brides Bay Book 1)

by V. K. Sykes

  The twenty-five-year-old woman sitting across from him now was still rail-thin, and years of addiction had taken a toll on her skin and teeth. But Sam’s eyes were no longer vacant. Most of the other meth symptoms were gone too—no more dilated pupils, twitchy movements, and picked-at skin. Her blond hair was clean and cut short, and she looked tanned and healthy.

  “I’m really glad you tracked me down, Sam. I thought I’d lost you forever.”

  “I thought I’d lost myself forever. You were so good to me, Ry, and I let you down. I’ll always feel rotten about that, believe me.”

  He waved a hand in dismissal, somehow able to forget how furious he’d been with her over the years.

  “But I had to hit rock bottom,” she added, “and fortunately when I did, an angel was there to lift me up. It was a miracle.”

  She’d already told him about the priest who’d literally picked her up when she stumbled into his church somewhere in San Francisco. She’d told him she was dying and, collapsing in front of the confessional, had said she just wanted someone to give her the last rites. The priest, who ministered to addicts every day of his life, was having none of it. He not only got her into a rehab facility within a day, he was there for her every step of the way—not just in treatment but every day thereafter. And through him, Sam had discovered religion. And, she said, meaning to her life for the very first time.

  Ry had never been big on churchgoing, but for Sam it had obviously worked.

  “So, you enjoy your volunteer work at the homeless mission? And at Narcotics Anonymous?”

  Sam nodded eagerly. “Helping people like me—well, like I used to be—there’s just nothing better than that. Oh, and hey, I got my two-year recovery medallion a couple of weeks ago.” She reached down into her bag and pulled out what looked like a big coin, handing it to him.

  The black and gold medallion had the Roman numeral two stamped in the middle of a triangle. “Two years. That’s awesome, Sam. I’m really proud of you.”

  Ry was still having a hard time believing his little stepsister had not only gotten herself clean, she’d somehow tracked him down in Maine and come all the way across the country to see him. Hardly anyone knew where he’d gone after New York, so he gave her full marks for finding him in little Brides Bay.

  “Hey, how about a tour of your estate, big brother? The view out those windows is just spectacular. I’m wickedly curious as to how you ended up here in End-of-the-World, Maine.”

  Ry smiled as they got up. “A friend showed me this property when it came up for sale. It had a vibe that felt right…at least it did at the time.”

  Sam and Stanley followed him out the door and onto the patio. “From the sound of that, it seems like the attraction might be wearing off a little?”

  “Maybe.” He cut across the lawn and stepped almost to the edge of the bluffs.

  Sam pulled up beside him and they gazed across the beautiful bay toward Spy Hill. “Wow, what a sweet view. I wouldn’t mind waking up to that every morning.”

  They stood there for a few minutes taking in the scene. It was a gorgeous late afternoon, and the gently sparkling water was dotted with several sailboats as well as a lone lobster boat heading back to the marina. Ry had to admit he’d really miss the peaceful view if he moved away.

  With a small sigh, Sam tugged at his elbow until he turned to face her. “Ry, it’s taken me awhile to get up the nerve to say what I’m going to tell you now. But it’s something I just have to do.” Her mouth was tight and her lips were thin.

  “Say what, Sammy?”

  “More than anything, I wanted to find you so I could tell you how I’m sorry I am that I’ve been such a horrible sister. I was so wrong to treat you the way I did.”

  Ry shook his head. “You had a disease. It was the drugs, not you.”

  “Yes, but I’m talking about how awful I was to you before you left home. We were all rotten to you. It makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about it now.”

  Yeah, she’d been a brat, but nothing like the pain in the ass her mother had been. That woman had been the bitch from hell to him—second only to his father in the horror department. “You were just a kid then, Sam. You shouldn’t even think about those days anymore. Let them go.”

  That’s what Ry tried to do every day.

  “But I was such a little shit to you, and…” She stopped as she started to tear up.

  Ry put his arm around her shoulders. The ache in his heart seemed to expand and take her in too. “I told you it’s okay. And hey, you and your mother couldn’t even come close to Dad for being a complete asshole.”

  “That damn dickhead,” Sam said bitterly.

  The pain underlying those words was real and stark, and it brought back a million memories for him, none of them good. But it brought an element of surprise too.

  “And here I always thought the old man treated you with velvet gloves, at least compared to me,” he said. “Maybe I was wrong about that.”

  “Not totally.” Sam pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her nose. “You always got it worse than I did, by far. But, if it’s any consolation, those velvet gloves came off for good once you moved out. From then on, it was bare knuckles all the way, man.”

  A chill washed through him. He turned her to face him. “Jesus, Sam, I thought he stopped. I mean, after…”

  “I’m sure neither of us will forget how you slugged him the day after you came back from Canada. Yeah, he stopped after that, but only for as long as it took you to leave again. And Mom didn’t do a damn thing. Never,” she said, her voice thick. “I was just an annoying problem for those two to live with until they could finally get rid of me. All your father cared about was you, and all my mother cared about was him.”

  “My father cared about me? Now there’s a hell of a news flash,” he said drily. “Are you sure you’re not still on drugs?”

  Sam let out a watery laugh. “Okay, I take that back. What I meant was that all he cared about was your career. About all the glory you’d bring him when you made it to the pros. And the money too, of course. That had plenty to do with it.”

  “I’ve never given him money, Sam. Not after everything…”

  “Oh, yeah, I know. He and Mom used to bitch about that all the time. I can’t tell you how awesome it is that you didn’t reward them for being such assholes.” Sam’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “It drove them out of their minds to see you making so much money and not doling it out to them. And then when you paid for my stints in rehab, I’m sure it totally fried their asses.”

  “Man, we sure put the D into dysfunctional, didn’t we? When was the last time you saw your mother?”

  Sam shrugged. “I can’t remember exactly. Not since I saw you the last time—I’m sure of that. And I don’t want to see her anytime soon either. Father Christopher says I need to find forgiveness in my heart for those two, but after what they did to us—you and me—I…I just don’t…” She dabbed at her eyes with the tissue.

  “Sam, if it was that bad after I left, why didn’t you—”

  Ry stopped himself. Child abuse victims rarely blew the whistle on an abusive parent, especially where the other parent was complicit.

  “Forget it,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m just sorry I wasn’t there longer. Sorry I didn’t make sure I found out what was really going on with you.”

  He’d always believed his father had treated his stepdaughter better—a hell of a lot better—than he’d ever treated his son. Ry guessed he’d been too wrapped up with hockey and his own sorry ass to see the truth.

  “You were smart to get away as soon as you could. And you had no reason to look out for me anymore, especially since everybody at home had treated you like dirt. I was…” She paused, as if searching for the right words. “I was so jealous. You were the big hero. You were getting to leave home to have an exciting life and make a lot of money, while I was never going to amount to anything.”

  “I’m sorry, Sam. I
was just so focused—”

  She waved away his apology. “Like I said, it’s me who needed to apologize. You saw a chance to get out and you took it. You had to, and I knew that. And I needed to come here and say that to you. I need to make things right, Ry. I need to properly thank you for the incredible amount of help you gave me all those years when I was sick.”

  He gave her a fierce hug. “Thanks, Sammy. I was glad to do it. It’s awesome to see you doing so great now. It feels like a miracle that we both made it through.”

  “It is a miracle, Ry. God’s grace.”

  He wouldn’t go that far, but he wouldn’t diss her beliefs. Clearly, a little faith could go a long way.

  Man, his world had been turned on its head in the space of an afternoon. While that seemed to be happening a lot lately, at least this upheaval felt good. Like an unexpected gift.

  “I can hardly believe it,” he said with a ghost of a laugh. “I do have family after all.”

  “Damn right you do, big brother.” She grinned through tears. “But enough of the mopey stuff. I’m starving. How about buying your little sister a beer and a burger? We can talk some more while we chow down.”

  He kissed her on the forehead. “Perfect, because you sure don’t want to eat my cooking. There’s a pub in town that has decent food in a small town Maine atmosphere. It’s a big hangout for lobstermen.”

  Samantha’s eyes lit up. “Presumably they serve lobster there?”

  “Everywhere here serves lobster, even the fast food joints.” He pointed out the window toward the middle of Brides Bay. “In fact, your future dinner was probably minding his business on the bottom of the bay this morning, but tonight he’ll be on your plate.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Well, that’s kind of gross, but I’ll still happily eat it. You know, I think I could love Brides Bay. You’ve got a super house, a perfect view, and apparently tons of lobsters. You’re one lucky dude, my brother. I’m so happy for you.”

  Huh.

  Sam’s take on his situation knocked him upside the head a bit. Yeah, he was pretty damn lucky, all things considered. And right now he was thankful for the young woman who’d wanted her brother back and had worked up the courage to do something about it.

  He wondered if he too had that kind of courage.

  Chapter 24

  “Obviously they have live music here,” Samantha said, glancing at the Red Dory’s small stage.

  So far, she and Ry had talked mostly about Sam’s road to recovery. Her refusal to give up was awe-inspiring, and he felt like he was really getting to know his stepsister.

  He’d opted for a table in a back corner of the pub, one as far away from the stage as possible. It was a local Celtic band’s gig night. Claire had mentioned once in passing that she knew the boys well, and what they might lack in technique was made up for by their youthful enthusiasm. He’d taken that to mean they were loud as hell and not very good.

  “Most nights they have a local band or singer,” he said. “Once in a while an out-of-towner.”

  “Cool. I hope these guys play some Down East music.”

  “Fiddles and foot-stomping galore?”

  “That’d work for me,” Sam said with a grin.

  Ry gave a little shrug. Every time he looked at that stage, he thought about Claire.

  “Okay, big brother, we’ve had enough talk about me. Now it’s your turn. So you’re racing motorcycles again, huh? You always did love that.”

  Ry did a double take. “How did you know I’m racing?”

  “You think I haven’t been following everything you do ever since I got straight? There’s a whole lot of information out there on Ryder Griffin. You know, on that thing called the Internet.”

  “Too damn much information, apparently.”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “So, you had to quit hockey because of injuries, and yet now you race motorcycles just for the fun of it? When I read about that…well, all I can say is I was ready to appoint you mayor of Crazytown.”

  He bit back the temptation to laugh, because she looked totally serious.

  “You obviously must know how risky that is,” she added. “You’re not a seventeen-year-old anymore either.”

  “Sammy, it’s fine. Really.”

  She doggedly shook her head. “Fine? I’ve just found my brother, and I don’t want to lose him again. Or see him crippled for life.”

  Ry had to stifle a frustrated sigh. Of course she’d be concerned, especially after everything she’d been through. And she said she needed him, as she continued with her recovery. As much as it pained him to have to talk about this stupid subject again, he couldn’t shut Sam out.

  “I don’t expect you or anybody else to understand. All you need to know is that it’s something I have to do for my sanity, now that I can’t play hockey anymore. You just have to trust me on this, okay? It’s really not that dangerous, and I’m careful out there.”

  Her concerned gaze morphed into annoyance. “You have to race? Really? Because if that’s the case, you’re admitting that you’re addicted to risk. And trust me to recognize what that looks like.”

  When he started to object, she shot up a restraining hand. “Racing’s just not a rational choice, Ry. With your history, you know all it would take is one—”

  “Yeah, yeah. I get it.” Was every woman in his life going to tell him he was nuts to race? “Now, can we please talk about something else?”

  “In a minute. I guess you’re going to get mad at me for being pushy, but don’t you think racing might have become your drug of choice? Or maybe the drug is actually the danger? Like, you need an adrenaline rush just to get on with your day. Because if you really do need to race, then it has become an addiction of sorts.”

  Ry snorted. “You clearly think so, counselor. Man, you’re making me feel like one of your clients.”

  When her gaze slid to the side, Ry wanted to kick himself. “I’m sorry, Sam. I know you’re only on me about this because you care. It’s just hard for me to talk about, that’s all.”

  She grimaced in sympathy. “Addiction is always hard to talk about, Ry. Any kind of addiction. But you’d be the first to tell me that it does nothing to solve your problems. How many times did you tell me that when you flew out to California to try to pull me out of another crisis?”

  “A few, for sure.”

  “A few hundred, more like. Look, I can tell you exactly what Father Christopher would say to you if he were here.”

  Ry raised his hands in surrender. “Now you’re going to tag team me with an absentee priest? Saints preserve us.”

  “Very funny. Father Christopher would look you in the eye and tell you in the kindest, most loving way that risking your health—your entire future—on the racetrack is an attempt to fill a hole in your life. And I’m not talking about missing hockey. I’m talking about missing people. Jesus, Ry, you said you’re holing up on that island because you don’t want people butting into your life. Well, to me, that doesn’t sound like much of a life. You deserve more than that, don’t you?”

  He barely managed to keep from flinching. Sam was practically echoing Claire.

  She studied him for a few more moments. “I know I must sound like a preacher, but I’m only sticking my nose into this because I really care about you, my brother.”

  “I know.” Ry was finding it tough to argue because she was right. Something had changed since he left New York. Something fundamental. And being left alone no longer seemed like the most important thing in his life.

  “To tell you the truth, Sam, I’m not sure what I want anymore.”

  She was about to reply when she glanced at the stage and frowned. Ry turned to look, then froze.

  Claire had just appeared onstage.

  “That does not look like a Celtic band,” his sister said in a wry voice. “Where are the big hunky guys I saw on that poster at the door?”

  “Uh, that’s Claire Maddox. She’s a regular here, but her usual night is Wednesday
. Maybe the band had to cancel at the last minute or something.”

  “That kind of sucks. Is that woman any good?”

  Oh yeah, she’s good at a lot of things.

  Claire was good at everything, in fact. Ry’s mind went straight to how great it felt when they were naked, skin-to-skin, totally wrapped up in each other. God, he missed that—missed her—more than he’d ever missed anything.

  Even hockey?

  Yeah, even that.

  He shook that startling thought away. “She’s a great singer. I accompanied her on guitar at a local festival.”

  Samantha’s eyes widened. “Oh, my God, are you kidding me? I knew you played guitar, but you actually perform on stage now?”

  He shrugged. “It was a one-off but, yeah, weird stuff can happen in a place like this.”

  “I’m starting to see that. And I like it.” She shot him a blinding smile. “Hey, why don’t you go up there now? I bet she’d lend you her guitar. I’d give anything to see you play tonight.”

  “Sam, come on, I—”

  She took his hand, silencing him. “I would love to see my big brother play. It would mean a lot to me.”

  Shit.

  How could he say no after all she’d gone through? After she’d come all the way to Maine to see him? After she’d worked up the guts to apologize for her role in their fucked up past?

  Unlike him, Sam had never really had much control over her life.

  And being with Claire again, even just to play a song…yeah, he wanted that too.

  He got up. “Okay, but if she tells me to sit my ass back down in this chair, you’re in trouble, Sis.”

  In fact, he’d be lucky if Claire didn’t shove him off the stage before he had the chance to even open his mouth.

  Sam gave him a fist bump. “Go get ’em. I hope these people won’t mind if I hoot and holler a bit.”