by Lisa N. Paul
“We’re gonna be late for dinner and now we’re going empty handed? That’s just great, Ryan.” She perched her hands on her hips and walked out the door. When she slid into Ryan’s car and saw the case of beer sitting on the back seat the warmth of her embarrassment rose to her cheeks.
“Kind of feel like an idiot right about now, huh?” Ryan buckled his seatbelt and leaned over to place a kiss on her head…the same way Leo always had. Ashley froze. Her senses immediately heightened and she heard the faint sound of him breathing in her scent. When she remained still he pulled back enough for her to start breathing again. Pulling her lip ring between her teeth, she felt the blood run from her face, and her skin prickled with anxiety. Ryan’s own face lost its color as he murmured, “I’m sorry, Ash. I forgot.”
“It’s okay, Ryan.” She inhaled deeply. “It’s been so long since I had a Leo kiss, but it was nice.” She nodded her head, trying to convince both of them that the kiss didn’t faze her. One brief glance at Ryan told her the attempt was an unsuccessful one.
After a few seconds though, the initial shock wore off and Ashley realized that the contact had actually felt nice. She’d loved Leo’s head kisses and had forgotten how special they’d made her feel. Something so small as a brush of lips to the top of her head made her feel loved and appreciated. Ryan’s simple gesture created another small fissure in the huge dam around her heart, but it also scared the shit out of her. When Ashley got scared, she got sarcastic and ornery.
“Ryan,” she snipped, “stop staring at me like I’m gonna break. It’s fine. I’m fine. Now drive our asses to Lyla’s before we’re even later.” When Ryan’s smile lit up his face, Ashley shifted her body to look out her window because there was no way she’d let him see her smile.
Even though she was.
“See, we’re the first ones here,” Ryan whispered in Ashley’s ear. “Now, either tell me what your problem is or drop your attitude because I haven’t done anything to deserve it.” The feel of his soft breath on her neck had her nipples pebbling inside her bra and his clean scent had her mouth going dry as her mind drew a blank. She just looked back at him, unable to speak.
This was it, the time to tell him how much it gutted her every time she saw him with another woman. He was giving her the opportunity to come clean with her feelings for him and her fears of losing him or even worse, trying to start something only to see it fail again. However, as he stood before her with the case of beer under his arm and his eyes penetrating what felt like her very soul, she realized she wasn’t ready, she wasn’t able, and she wasn’t deserving. So she did the only thing she knew how to do. She hid in silence behind her mask.
“Okay, Ash, you’ve got nothing to say?” When she responded with only silence and a slight shrug of her shoulders, he walked away. “Good talk, Princess, good talk.”
Sunday dinners were one of the highlights of Ashley’s week. Growing up, almost all of her “family” dinners had just been her, Leo and the hired help, so these nights filled her with a renewed sense of belonging. After the encounter she had with Ryan, she needed to belong somewhere. She felt like she could be herself around Lyla and Janie, a feeling that she both loved and loathed. Her spirit felt like when you got pins and needles from sitting in one position too long and then you try to move. Little pieces of her were waking up—it was scary and breathtaking all at once.
She watched as Max tried none-too-subtly to get Janie alone so he could talk to her. Ashley understood why Janie was avoiding him. She would have avoided him too, if he’d pulled the same disappearing act on her. She let her gaze move over to Danny and Julie. They were such an amazing couple—married close to thirty years and still crazy in love with one another. She could see it in the way they spoke, touched, and even looked at each other. A small pang of jealousy zipped through her body. The shock was quick, but unforgettable.
Kyle sat in his chair drinking his vodka, his eyes glassy and his skin gray. She’d spoken to him about his drinking the week before but he told her—albeit lovingly—to mind her own business. Each of the guys had tried to talk to him but had earned the same response. Ashley sighed. She was really worried about him.
Then there was Lyla.
Lyla buzzed around the dining room, serving and removing platters. She wore a smile on her face and was always prepared with the perfect comment or sarcastic retort. Lyla was still somewhat of an enigma, but there was a mutual respect between the two women and Ashley loved their budding friendship. Yet she knew in order to have an honest friendship she was gonna have to be honest with her friends. That meant telling them about Leo. A shiver ran through her body. What will they think of you then? She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to know the answer to that question.
After dinner, the whole group sat in the cozy family room and shared silly stories, filling Lyla and Janie in on the bloopers and practical jokes that they’d played on one another over the years.
Ryan enjoyed Sunday night family dinners. While he and his dad spoke regularly on the phone, he didn’t get down south nearly as often as he’d like. It was during these dinners that he really saw Ashley’s light begin to shine. As dim as it had become it was still there, and it gave him hope for her. Their earlier conversation weighed heavily on his mind. He knew that she’d seen him leave with the woman from the bar the night before, and he knew she’d assumed that he’d gone home with said woman, but the truth was although he had left with her, he’d been bored to tears within the hour and ended up meeting Kyle at an after-hours club. He hadn’t gone home because he’d crashed on Kyle’s couch. Could he have told Ashley then where he’d spent the night? Yes, but at the risk of sounding like a dick, he was enjoying her snit—it was nice to actually see her give a shit for once. So he’d let her assume. Then, when he called her out on her behavior, he thought for a brief moment that she was going to give him honesty, that maybe she would tell him what was actually going on in her mind. But once again, he was wrong, and all he got was more of the same. Silence.
He was lost in thought when the raised voices caught his attention. His turned to face Ashley, who looked…angry, and he was immediately curious as to what in the hell would spike true anger from a woman who had been dancing around her emotions for years. He followed her gaze to Kyle, who had spent most of the evening in such an altered state that there was no way it was just alcohol running through his blood.
“What’s not to love?” Kyle sneered, “She writes some advice in a column twice a month, and she doesn’t have to worry about employment or money. But not everybody is lucky enough to win the lottery.” Ryan watched on as Lyla stared at Kyle, muted by the shock his words had caused her.
Kyle, however, had no such problem as he continued his drunken rant. “We know everyone loves you. We know you love yourself. It’s the world according to Lyla Dalton. You always need to put your two cents into everyone else’s business. And speaking of cents, yes, Lyla, we know you have money. Jesus, could you rub it in our faces anymore?” Kyle spat his words and then tried to stand up but the effects of the alcohol, added to whatever else was still pumping through his system, caused him to stumble.
“Kyle, goddamn it!” Danny shouted. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Lyla cut in, her voice raised and her fist clenched. “It’s fine Danny. Kyle,” she said, turning to face him head on, “I’m glad we are finally close enough to share how we really feel about one another. I’ve had thoughts about you too. Frankly, I’d been thinking that you were sexy—so hot in fact, that I’ve spent weeks thinking of all of the ways I wanted to fuck you. Thanks for curing me of those notions.” Lyla’s face was blazing red, making her sky blue eyes burn brighter. “As for me sticking my ‘rich’ ass into everyone’s business, you’re gonna wish I did. You’re gonna wish I stopped you from saying all of the shit that just spewed out of your drunk fucked-up mouth.”
Kyle’s face was blank as Lyla continued her verbal lashing. “I’m not going to hate you for saying those thin
gs,” Lyla began to rein in her temper and with that her voice, “because tomorrow when you wake up, you’re going to hate yourself enough for the both of us.” She lowered her face to Kyle’s and dropped her voice to a level that Ryan knew to be lethal. “But I will say this and trust me, if you forget what I’m about to tell you, there are six people who are here to remind you. You can try, but you will never be able to take back those words. They are out there. You said them. Now live with them.”
Lyla turned to face the rest of the group who stood silent and in awe. “I’m leaving,” she said calmly, “please lock up on your way out.” With her back facing the group and one foot out the door she stopped but didn’t turn around as she said, “Before you ask, Janie, no, you can’t come. I need some time. I love you.” With that, Lyla walked into the night, alone.
As soon as Lyla left the house, Janie escaped to the kitchen. Ryan watched Ashley stalk toward Kyle, a fire burning in her eyes and anger straining her spine. The Ashley who had lain dormant for so long, hiding all of her feelings was gone. Like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis. This Ashley was allowing her feelings to radiate all around her in bright shades of color. This Ashley was pissed.
“You stupid fucker,” she said, poking him in the shoulder. Standing at five foot eight, Ashley wasn’t a slight woman and therefore her poke wasn’t a slight poke. Ryan had been on the receiving end of one before, so he knew from experience. In his inebriated state, Kyle’s balance was not the greatest, and he took a couple of steps backward to keep from falling over.
“You know I love you, Kyle Marx, but I can’t even look at you right now. What you’ve said tonight disgusts me.” Ashley walked past him and headed to the kitchen, with Julie following swiftly behind. Kyle reached out to grab Ashley’s wrist and Danny started to step in, but he wasn’t quick enough.
Ryan had seen Kyle grab for Ashley and in that moment, his mind traveled back to another place and time. Visions of Scott standing in the high school hallway, caging a young Ashley against the lockers, looping his fingers around her wrist. He remembered the look of confusion and innocence in her eyes—a look he’d chosen to ignore in favor of anger and mistrust. A choice that in turn had led him down the wrong path, a path he still couldn’t veer from.
Ryan’s vision went red and his fists clenched. The thought of Kyle even attempting to lay a hand on his woman had him wanting to rip Kyle’s arms off and beat him with them. The way Kyle had spoken to Lyla, the way he’d just torn her down, making it sound as if they all shared the same opinion…
Ryan felt as if his heart was going to slam out of his chest. Self-restraint was an act of will and strength he had not yet encountered since his rehabilitation, but it seemed as though now was time for him to start practicing. Taking slow deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth, he self-soothed his tightly wound temper. As the breathing exercise worked its magic, Ryan slowly unclenched his fists.
After Ashley left Miami, Ryan had spent three years in grief and anger management counseling. Once he realized that his anger stemmed from his mom dying of cancer, and his fear of losing control, he was able to learn coping strategies to help him gain control of himself, if not the world around him. Seeing Kyle attempt to touch Ashley in anger had nearly set him off, but the fact that he was able to regain his composure quickly made him proud of himself. However, Kyle was about to see a side of Ryan that he had never seen before.
Closing the distance, he wrapped his hands around the collar of Kyle’s t-shirt and pulled him so close that there was barely an inch between them. “Listen to me, you sorry piece of shit,” he snarled between clenched jaws. “Don’t you ever—ever—speak on behalf of me, or any one of us, ever again. If Lyla even looks at you again then you are one lucky son of a bitch. And if she ever says she forgives you, then she must have finally learned to lie, because no one could, or should, ever forgive the crap you said tonight.” Ryan let go of Kyle’s shirt and then realized he had one thing more to add so he fisted it again and pulled Kyle even closer than he was previously as he gave his final warning. “And Kyle? If you ever even think about talking to Ashley the way you spoke to Lyla, I will cut out your fucking tongue. We clear?” He waited for an acknowledgment, which he received in the form of a silent nod, before he turned toward the kitchen. He needed to get the hell out of that house.
The coldness of the tile floor mirrored the overall mood in the kitchen. What had been a warm and inviting environment was now blanketed in sadness and anger. Ashley sat on the floor alongside Janie and Julie, feeling helpless as she watched her friend cry. Reaching for the one tool she had in her emotional bag of tricks, Ashley pulled out the one thing that allowed her to relate to people without ever lowering her walls. Humor.
“That boy needs to be castrated, and I’m just the girl to do it!” She let out a maniacal laugh as she recited a list of all the ways she could perform the duty. Feigning a grimace, she said, “Ick, but then I’d have to touch those testes of STD’s and yuck. We could even get Danny to help! He loves Lyla. If he holds Kyle down, I could wear a thick pair of gloves and use the nut crackers we have at the bar.” She laughed evilly. “They crack more than walnuts, you know.”
Hearing Janie’s giggle, even for the briefest of moments, made Ashley feel so good inside. Knowing she could ease her friend’s pain made her feel helpful, useful…meaningful.
“Ash, let’s go.” Ryan’s voice melted through her like butter on a warm skillet. Offering his hand to Janie he pulled her up off the floor and enveloped her in a huge hug.
Once he’d assured Janie that Max had escorted Kyle from the house and that he wouldn’t be back, Ashley felt Ryan’s hand rest on her shoulder. Without looking back to see his face Ashley stood up from the floor. In that moment, the two of them were in sync—words weren’t needed. She knew he was walking a thin line, trying to keep his anger at bay while trying to appear calm. She knew it was time to take care of the man who had spent the better part of a decade taking care of her. She said goodnight to everyone and tucked herself into Ryan’s side as they exited the house together in silence.
Ryan knew Ashley would have questions after what had just happened, but he wasn’t able to answer them yet. The two-mile drive home flashed by and all too quickly they were sitting quietly in the car in the driveway. The click of her seatbelt echoed in the car as the whoosh of fabric released from its hold.
“Why don’t you sit out here for a little while. I’ll go get us some lemonade.” She moved to open the door but he put his hand on her thigh to stop her.
“Please don’t go.” He hated how weak his voice sounded, but he needed her, and he needed her to know that. “Please, Ash, just let me hold you for a little while.” Eyes focused on the steering wheel in front of him, Ryan found himself unable to make eye contact with her as he made his request. Her rejection would be more than he could bear.
“Okay, honey.”
Ryan’s head snapped up the moment she acquiesced and his eyes met hers. It had been so long since she’d called him “honey” that he’d forgotten how sweet the endearment sounded sliding off her tongue. She wasn’t pushing him away and he knew he should be elated, but tonight he was so physically and emotionally drained that he was just grateful. “But let’s not sit here in the car, let’s go inside. Okay?” Ryan tried to answer her but the words wouldn’t form, so he just nodded his head and exited the car.
Walking through the front door, Ryan went straight to the sofa and after flipping on the television, he sat rigidly on the soft cushions. He listened to Ashley while she moved through the kitchen, pouring each of them a drink and turning out the lights before joining him. The television was on quietly but his focus was on the mantel above the fireplace where pictures of their friends and family members rested. When he declined the drink she offered, she placed both glasses on the coffee table and sat quietly next to him. He realized she was waiting for him to take the lead and he didn’t leave her waiting long.
“I
was so angry when my mom died. I couldn’t understand why she left me,” he stared straight ahead as he spoke, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to say what he had to if he saw even one ounce of pity in her eyes. “She and my dad loved each other, they were best friends. I saw the way love was supposed to be, not the way it was shown on TV. There was no cheating or abuse. Sure, they would argue occasionally, but they would discuss their issues and figure out ways to get past them. And,”—he paused to scrub his hands over his face—“they loved me. They fucking loved me. I never questioned it. I knew they loved me because they told me and they showed me.” He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, as he gathered the strength to continue his story. Although Ashley knew as well as anyone the ending to his tragic tale, he’d never been so candid with her about his feelings during that difficult period in his life, and he worried that her knowing all of it may change her opinion of him, but he had to tell her. It was time for her to see all of him.
“I didn’t know at the time but my mom survived cancer once before, when I was a baby. That’s why I don’t have any siblings.” He turned to face her, willing her to understand why he was an only child. “They wanted more children, but after her treatments they couldn’t have anymore.” He turned his gaze back to the mantle. “When she got sick again, I was twelve, and a typical adolescent, punk kid. It wasn’t that I got into big trouble, but I did go out of my way to push boundaries and test limits. When my parents told me mom had cancer, they were so certain that she’d be okay. They explained that she’d gone through it before and she was fine. They drilled into me that I shouldn’t be scared, and that everything would be okay. But every day, my mom got more and more sick.” Ryan’s hands knotted together and his leg bounced mercilessly as his past took on a life in the present.
“I did what they asked—what they demanded. I continued to live like the rest of my friends. I tried to ignore the pain in my mother’s eyes and the suffering in my father’s.” His eyes filled with the unshed tears of the teenage boy he’d once been, and the man he’d grown to be. “Then one day, when I got home from school, they called me into the sunroom. My mom had been sleeping there for over a month in a hospital bed. Thinking back on it, I feel so stupid for not seeing what was really going on, but they were my parents and they told me she was going to be fine, and I believed them. Then mom explained that she was dying. No, she wasn’t dying…death was imminent.”
