by Eden Summers
“No.” God, no. He wanted a signature and an amicable farewell. Not a damn cookie. “Tell me why I’m here.” He stepped further into the room and took the divorce settlement from the back pocket of his jeans.
“I needed to see you.” She cleared her throat. “I wanted to tell you I made a mistake.”
“Which one?” The barb escaped without thought. “Marrying me? Or waiting too long to call it quits?”
“My mistake was letting you go.”
“Excuse me?” Her revelation didn’t faze him. It couldn’t. Not when he was lost to someone else.
“I made a mistake when I asked for a divorce.”
“No.” He shook his head and shot his attention to the kitchen window, unable to face her. He wasn’t going to do this. Not now. Not when she’d already dragged him through weeks of hell. Years of heartache. “I’m not in the mood for games.” He placed the stapled pages on the counter and slid them toward her. “If you read over this, you’ll find it’s a fair settlement.”
“You’re not listening.” She slid the pages back. “I no longer want a divorce.”
“Don’t do this.” He tried to keep his cool, tried to remain civil and in control even though his subconscious was demanding he leave the fray.
“I was hormonal,” she pleaded. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“Yeah, you were. You were thinking about how miserable we were. You were thinking about how you resented my career and hated me being away from home all the time. You were thinking that we’d gone too far to come back, and you were right.”
“No.” Remorse filled her eyes. “We haven’t gone too far. I just had to realize how wrong I was. I needed space to clear my head.”
“And while you took your time to figure it out, I moved on.”
“I don’t believe you.” She shook her head. “That woman isn’t your type.”
No, Felicity wasn’t, but Leah sure was. Leah was everything. She was the light in the darkness. The stability in a building tsunami.
“I want you to come home, Ryan.”
He cringed.
“Not right now,” she blurted. “I realize you’re on tour. But once that’s over…”
“Stop saying ‘home’ when you know full-well I haven’t been welcome here for a damn long time.” He couldn’t remember when she’d officially kicked him out of their bedroom. He’d been relegated to the couch or the spare bedroom, only getting a temporary return pass when she wanted a physical fix. Once the sex was over he always got shoved back to the doghouse.
She wasn’t entirely to blame. He’d willingly taken her shit. He’d gone along with it because he harbored the guilt of all their problems.
“Trust me. We’ll be happier once the divorce is final.” He took a one last visual sweep of the place they’d bought when happiness had still been a part of their lives. He relived the few fading memories of love and hoped they didn’t disappear entirely. Then he turned on his heel and headed for the hall.
“Ryan.” His name was a plea. “Please stop.”
He paused, her agonizing tone making him glance over his shoulder. The slightest shift in her position made his heart seize. The light streaming through the window hit her at a different angle. The tiniest change in perception turning his world upside down. She stood tall, her hand sliding over her abdomen, the placement pulling her loose dress tight over a rounded belly. The air left his lungs in a heave and he thought his stomach would follow suit.
“I’m pregnant.”
His blood infused with adrenaline, the heavy pulse of awe keeping him immobile. In an instant his life changed. Clarity skewed, perspective morphed, responsibility became a heavy weight, and fear and longing collided. In one revelation she crushed his dreams for a future with Leah and taunted him with the opportunity of a family.
“You’re going to be a father.”
Those words… That belly…
“How long?” He voiced the doubt bubbling to the forefront.
She lifted her chin, her hand possessive over her abdomen. “Five months.”
A knife stabbed deep into his chest, piercing skin and sinew. They’d slept together in that time. Once or twice, depending on the validity of his shadowy memories. Both emotionless sexual experiences he didn’t want to associate with the conception of a child.
“I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks, but you wouldn’t answer my calls. I didn’t want you to find out from anyone else, but the bump is getting too big to hide.” She stared at the hand on her stomach, a maternal smile curving her lips. “We’re going to have a baby.”
The knife plunged deeper, through arteries and organs.
He’d endured loveless years in the hope of hearing those words. He’d gone to sleep not alone, but lonely for nights on end. He’d thought about baby names, and if he’d be a good parent, and if his child would grow to resent his career like his wife did.
Becoming a father had been his dream, and now it resembled a nightmare.
“I…” He swallowed, hard, the moisture barely coating the gravel in his throat. “I need to…” What? What did he need? Time? Clarity? A bigger set of balls to call bullshit on her manipulative announcement?
“Don’t you want to feel her kick?”
“Her?” Images of little girls and pigtails blinded him. The echo of feminine giggles and a sweet voice calling him daddy filled his ears. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop his limbs from shaking.
She stepped forward, offering the bow of her belly.
“Don’t.” He held up a hand, unwilling to connect with his child while he was in a state of shock.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?”
“It is… It was.” He shook his head to fight the lack of concentration. “I…”
“Is this about that other woman?” She took another step. “You don’t love her, Ryan. I know you don’t.”
No, he didn’t love Felicity. But he did love Leah. With all his heart, spare the newly forming extra beat now sounding for a child he’d never met.
“I want you to come back to me so we can be a family.” She was poisoning him. Each word killing the plans he’d had for the future. “I want this to work.”
“I… I can’t…” He couldn’t think. Couldn’t even walk straight. He stumbled from the kitchen and into the hall, passing his guitars before snatching his shoes from the floor.
“Ryan.”
He scrambled for the front door and slammed it shut behind him. He had to get out of here, away from the memories devoid of happiness and the wife who would never love him again.
And the only person he wanted to flee toward was the woman he would destroy with the news.
Chapter Twenty-One
Leah checked her phone. Again. Ryan had been scheduled to meet with Julie hours ago. Three hours, to be exact. He hadn’t called. Hadn’t messaged. Clearly, it wasn’t a sign of mass devastation but her stomach sure felt like it.
Her pessimism had taken control, spitting in the face of optimism’s raised white flag. Any minute now she was going to succumb and call him. For the moment, she was on the edge of restraint, making laundry her mission, shoving non-delicates into the dryer as if they were traitors. She assumed this was how Julie felt for all those months Ryan spent on tour. The jealousy was rich, cloying, coating every inch of her skin.
The tentative knock at the door was barely heard over the rambling in her brain. She had to pause, cock her head, and wait for a louder, more adamant knock before she convinced herself there was a visitor.
“I’m coming.” She closed the dryer, wiped her damp hands on her pants, and made for the entrance hall. Only five men knew she was home from tour. Four of which should be balls deep in their women by now. That only left one. One man she hoped wouldn’t be stupid enough to come to her apartment in broad daylight.
She yanked open the door and cursed his carelessness. “Ryan, what are you doing here?”
“Needed to speak to you.” His eyes didn’t meet hers, those emotional depths re
maining downcast, morphing her frustration into fear.
“You were supposed to call.” She pulled the door wider and beckoned him inside. “If anyone sees you…”
He trudged his feet forward and accidentally nudged her shoulder as he passed. Then an unmistakable scent hit her. The strong hint of alcohol and misery.
“Christ, have you been drinking?” She scrutinized him—the crumpled shirt, the slumped shoulders, the tangled hair slicked back from his face as if he’d worked his fingers non-stop through the lengths.
“Ryan?” She followed after him and gripped the waistband of his jeans, bringing him to a stop. “What did she say?”
He laughed, the sound brutal, if not maniacal. She’d lost him again. Julie had taken away the man she loved and replaced him with someone overcome with destruction.
“Either tell me what’s going on or I’m calling Mason.”
His glassy gaze met hers, increasing her panic. “That’s not a very nice threat.”
It wasn’t a threat toward him, it was a defense for her. His look was terrifying, informing her this situation was something she couldn’t handle on her own. “I don’t know which hat to put on. Is this a professional issue? Is it personal? Talk to me.” She bridged the space between them and pleaded with her eyes. “Please, Ryan. You’re scaring me.”
His face crumpled, the lines etching his brow digging deeper the longer he stared at her. Oh, God. She couldn’t take this. She didn’t know how to help him.
He fell to his knees before her, his shoulders slumping, his hair framing his cheeks. “I’m drowning, Leah.” His head fell back and he peered up at her, his eyes stark, his face bleak. He reached for her, latching on to the material of her blouse, and tugged her down to the floor. “I can’t breathe.” He began to hyperventilate. Big breaths. Rasped, labored exhalations.
“I need to call Mason.” She made to run for her cell and he stopped her with an arm around her waist, dragging her down to the floor.
“Stay with me.”
“Then tell me what to do.” She pressed her palms against his chest, placing space between them. “Talk or I’m getting straight on the phone.”
His face crumpled, the man she knew nowhere to be seen. “She’s pregnant.”
Time stopped.
Her throat closed.
The world condensed to three things–Ryan, his ex, and a child. There was no Leah. No love. With two words he’d shoved her from his life whether he wanted to or not.
“No.” The denial slipped free, giving pain a chance to sink in its place.
He simply stared at her, those shiny eyes all the confirmation she needed to give in to sorrow. “Five months. That’s why she’s been trying to call me.” He sat back on his haunches, his arms limp at his sides.
“Five months,” she repeated.
“It could be mine, Leah.”
The clarification washed over her, an invisible landslide destroying everything in its wake.
“The baby could be fucking mine and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make this right. She wants me to move back in with her. She wants us to be a family. She wants all these things I can’t give her and can’t turn away from either.”
Each announcement wrapped barbed wire around her heart, making each torturous beat harder to bear. “And what do you want?” she whispered. “Where do you fit in to all of this?”
“I don’t know.” His sorrow begged at her, demanding the answers he couldn’t find. “I wanted this with you. Not her. I want this to be our baby. Our family. Our future. I don’t care that we’ve only been together for weeks. In my heart, I’ve always been with you. I can’t go back.”
“Hey.” She ran her hands through his hair, making him focus. “You’re in shock. You need to give this time to sink in.”
“I can’t do this without you. I’m drowning, my lungs are burning, but I can handle the suffocation if I’m with you.” He began to ramble, the words tumbling in quick succession. “Leah, help me. Tell me how I fix this.”
“Shh.” She clutched his shoulders and dragged him forward, squeezing him against her chest. “We’ll figure it out.” She didn’t know how. She didn’t have a clue. There were only platitudes and useless words to fight the anguish. This was what he’d always dreamed of, with the one woman neither one of them wanted to be tied to.
Heaven and hell.
Dreams and nightmares.
Opposites forced together to create anarchy.
“I want you.” He pulled back and cupped her cheeks. “I want a family with you. I want babies. With you.”
“Ryan, please.” She was in too deep, drowning right beside him with no one to save her.
“I need you.” He kissed her, his alcohol and fear colliding with her pain and resignation. “I just need you.”
His lips melted everything inside, leaving her in a worthless pile of nothingness. His tongue entered her mouth, increasing the insanity. Anguish turned into desire with every swipe of his mouth. Numbness built into warmth with the press of his body against hers.
She couldn’t deny him. There was no power to push him away. She craved him, too. Yearned for the passion to temporarily hide the truth. She gripped his shirt, tugged it over his head, only to have him smash his lips back over hers, the kiss possessive.
They didn’t stop, didn’t break for air. Together, they stood, mouths connected, chest to chest. She touched him everywhere, unable to get enough of him, wanting to claim everything as her own before someone else could. When he pulled back, she fought not to crumple under the adoration in his eyes as he stripped her. First her blouse, button by button, then her pants, her underwear, each item removed with delicate finesse. The more skin he exposed, the more vulnerable she became to his touch. She was bare.
Physically.
Emotionally.
“I need to feel you.” She began removing his jeans with mimicked worship, making sure to memorize every last inch of his skin as her palms trekked over his ass, his thighs. He was hard for her, his devastation no match for his passion even though his eyes remained bleak.
He swept her off her feet, his strong arms swinging her into an embrace as he brought them down to the couch. Weathered hands guided her to straddle his lap and she wiggled against his cock as their mouths reconnected. Her body wasn’t ready. Arousal hadn’t kicked in, only the demand for connection, but she sank onto his length, lessening the emotional agony with a bite of physical pain.
This felt like goodbye. Each press of lips a farewell, every stroke of his fingers leading to an inevitable end. She kissed her love into him, rocking their bodies together as tears pricked her eyes. Even with his cock inside her, he seemed miles away, the distance between them already growing.
She rocked harder, trying to bridge the gap. She kissed with more determination, hoping to remain tethered.
Nothing worked.
He did the same. Harsh strokes of tongue. Brutal jerks of his hips. The pleasure didn’t increase. Only the suffering. His mouth found her neck, her collarbone, her chest. She leaned her head back, giving free rein to the moisture now seeping from her eyes.
She couldn’t derive gratification from this moment. Her heart wouldn’t allow it. But she let him take what he needed, rocking her hips along with his increased tempo.
“I can’t lose you,” he rasped, his fingers digging into the flesh of her ass.
Too late. She was already lost. “I’ll always love you, Ryan.”
Her words seemed to shove him toward climax, his movements becoming unfettered. Chaotic. He pounded into her, thrust after thrust of persecution and comfort. Black and white. Right and wrong. He came undone in her arms, his shout of release guttural, almost animalistic in her ears. Tight hands clung to her. Harsh breaths called to her. Jerks turned into undulations, the gentle rock of his hips signaling an end that was more than physical.
“I’m sorry.” He kept his head bowed, his chest rising and falling as he cradled her against him. “I�
��m ruining everything.”
She shook her head, keeping them close so he didn’t see her tears. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Then why does it feel the exact opposite?”
“Because sometimes life isn’t fair, and good people are punished.” She wiped her cheek on her shoulder, removing the moisture.
He pulled back and met her gaze. “Oh, God, Leah.” He cupped her cheeks, his thumbs wiping away her tears in gentle strokes. “What have I done?”
“Nothing.” The word stuck in her throat. He hadn’t done a thing… Yet he’d done everything, too—lifted her up, placed her on a pedestal, admired her without reservation. Then Julie kicked the platform out from beneath her. “This isn’t your fault.”
She comforted him the best she could, listening to his cathartic whispers as a stabbing pain built in her brain. When his words tapered, she excused herself and fled for the bathroom, grabbing her cell along the way. She needed to find calm in the chaotic storm. She needed to decrease the pressure pushing down on her head. The long-forgotten sense of a panic attack was building with each hyperventilated breath, her loss of control imminent.
She locked the door, cleaned herself up, and gripped the counter as she hung her head and stared at the tiled floor.
He was having a baby.
Julie would remain in his life.
She gulped in air and pressed a palm over the throbbing in her skull.
Their relationship was over.
He had to build a future without her.
“Stop it.” She held her breath and stood tall. “You’re stronger than this.” She waited until the need for air became a physical burn, then sucked in a long, deep breath. “No more.”
She closed her eyes and pictured nothingness. No Ryan. No Reckless. No panic. She forced the calm she needed. “Focus.”
Dissect and assess. Evaluate and strategize.
“One thought at a time,” she whispered.
OK. Here goes.
When the news of the pregnancy came out, his reputation would be hammered—inevitable. He’d be accused of fleeing his fatherhood role to snatch a new piece of ass in the form of Felicity Knight—inevitable. Her own reputation would be tarnished due to the recent blog interview. Speculation would be rife. Accusations would be harsh.
