“Mmm, just like Grandma used to make.” I scarf down the entire bar and Ryan laughs at me.
“Gourmet cook, is she?” he teases and pours some of the hot water over a sieve full of coffee grinds into the mug, letting the water grow murky before he hands it off to me.
He makes himself a rough looking coffee using the same grounds into the cup and tears the plastic surrounding his granola bar open with his teeth and spits the wrapper onto the floor.
“My nana? No, she never had much time for big meals. She mostly cooked from cans and prepackaged stuff.” I take a sip of my coffee and Ryan sits on the blanket beside me. “Except once a week she’d always have a big pancake breakfast. Every Sunday before she dragged me off to church.”
“That’s how it was for my grandmother too. She didn’t have much money from my grandfather’s pension, so she had to really stretch her dollars. It sucks to think of how many sweet old ladies are forced to live like that at the end of their lives. So, you lived with your nana?”
“She raised me, and trust me, she’d be the first to punch you in the mouth if you called her a sweet old lady.” I laugh. “She’s just turned sixty now, so back when I was born she was young enough to be my mother.”
“What? How old was your mom when she had you? How old was your grandmother?” Ryan tries to figure out the math that haunted our family.
“I don’t remember my mother,” I answer matter-of-factly. I distanced myself from the pain of her abandonment a long time ago.
“I’m sorry.” Ryan touches my arm gently. “When did she die?”
I stiffen at the question. I could tell him she passed away when I was two. I mean, she might as well have. But I don’t want to lie to him. There’s something about Ryan, about the way his intense blue eyes search mine that makes my secrets bubble up from where I drowned them and spill from my tongue.
“She didn’t die. Well, she might be dead now. I’m not sure. The truth is, I don’t know what she did with her life. She was seventeen when she had me and eighteen when she left. When I first learned that she ran out on me, I thought it was because she was so young. But my grandmother had her when she was seventeen too. And the weird thing is, my great-grandmother had her when she was seventeen. So Nana was only thirty-four when I was born.”
“Wow.” Ryan doesn’t say it like he’s judging me. Not like he thinks less of me or my family. Just like he’s absorbing the facts and trying to understand my life.
“Yeah, so it felt like a big deal when I turned eighteen and still wasn’t pregnant.” I look down into my dwindling cup of coffee. “Like I’d broken a curse or something. I thought I was actually doing the right thing when I moved away. I was heading out on my own and thought I’d be the first woman in my family to do something with her life besides have children when they were still kids. Kind of ironic that I just ended up in the same situation, isn’t it?” I bark out a dry laugh.
“You’re pregnant?” Ryan’s eyes grow wide and search my belly for evidence of a baby.
“No, no! Not that part. I just mean that I ended up trapped in the same kind of life. In a dead end job trying to end things with an abusive piece of shit man.”
Ryan’s jaw clamps down and his shoulders tense up. “That’s not a real man. A real man doesn’t need to hurt women to prove himself.” Rage pulses in the air around him.
“You’re right. I’m glad I finally found one.” I drape my fingers over his balled up hand and he relaxes a little.
Ryan breathes in deep, like he’s trying to get himself under control and his eyes squeeze shut for a second. Then the tension passes, his muscles ease up, and he stares straight into my eyes. “Does Wolfe know where your grandmother lives?”
I shake my head, but I can’t help how my chin quivers at just the thought. It wouldn’t be beneath him to hurt her to get back at me. I know that. He’s done worse to people who “owed him.”
“No, he knows I grew up in Portland and that Nana raised me, but I never told him an address or anything. I mean, he knows our last name is Miller, but there are a million of them in the city. He doesn’t even know my real first name.” I realize just how little Wolfe knew about me. And how little he cared to know. In just over twenty-four hours, Ryan is already taking the time to learn more about me than Wolfe ever tried to in over six months.
“I figured Red was a nickname, you know, because of this.” He glides his palm over my hair and I close my eyes, enjoying how he can be so strong and powerful one second and so soft and sweet the next. “What’s your real name?”
“Patricia.” It sounds weird to say it out loud. Ever since I was a kid people have been calling me Red. Patricia sounds like one of those extra names some kids get to honor a dead relative. The kind that go on the birth certificate, but that no one ever calls them.
“Yeah, I like Red more.” Ryan furrows his brows and tosses the last of his coffee back.
“Me too.”
“All right then, if you’re ready to get moving, I’m gonna pack up here and dig the bike out of the barn so we can hit the road.” Ryan stands up and stretches his empty coffee glass toward the ceiling.
“Sounds good,” I agree.
Inside, though, I wish Ryan and I could find a little hideaway like this to make our own. A place we could both disappear to, where Wolfe couldn’t find us and where the outside world doesn’t matter. I know we need to go. I know my wishes are silly. Still, I find myself dreaming of a universe where Ryan and I aren’t bound by a destination or timeline. A fantasy where the only time that matters is the time we take to explore each other in a million ways and learn everything there is to know about our lives. Reluctantly, I force myself to abandon that dream and face reality. My nana never had time to read me fairy tales when I was a kid and there’s no use in starting to believe in them now. It’s time to get back on the road, time to keep heading west and leave my childish wishes behind.
15 | Red
On the back of Ryan’s bike the world smells new and fresh as we whip past it. I love that scent in the air after a downpour. The rain seems to wash away more than just the dust and grime. It managed to rinse away the millions of things that try to break the world’s back. It’s as if everything is possible again after a storm like that. Even the trees that only yesterday looked like the snarled hands of monsters seem to have reshaped. Like the water reshaped them from something ancient and scary to something new and full of promise. Their stretched limbs now appear more like the splayed legs of virgins, giving hope to the young men on their wedding bed.
That storm must have been huge. We’ve been driving for hours and it looks like the entire state was washed clean. Every mile of road we’ve traveled has been covered with puddles. Every wisp of wind that’s whirled past us has carried the scent of promise.
“Hungry?” Ryan jars me from my thoughts. He points to the sign for an off-road diner not far.
“I could eat,” I agree, nodding. I’m sure he can’t make out my words, so I emphatically shake my head like I’m trying to bounce off his helmet.
Ryan returns his focus to the road and I hug his waist, resting against his back as he expertly weaves off the highway and down the well-worn road toward the restaurant. He pulls up to a building that’s showing its age, but is still modern and new compared to where I was working. Flipping the kick out with his foot, he kills the motor and helps me off the back like a gentleman. He takes the helmet back and tucks it under his arm. He even opens the diner door for me.
Heat spreads over my cheeks, probably making them match my hair as I drop my head shyly. I can’t help it. I’m just not used to someone like Ryan. In my life I went from fumbling boys who could barely spit out a sentence to gruff men who chose to keep quiet unless they were angry. Ryan is so different. He’s the perfect blend of spicy and sweet. I love that he can fuck me harder than I’ve ever felt before and then opens doors for me. That he can protect me from my biggest fears and then try to learn about my life.
We quickly find a seat in a booth and pluck a couple of menus free from the holder on the side of the table. There are a few families in here and some other couples who’ve stopped in for lunch. It’s nice to get lost in the buzz of their voices as we scan our food options.
“I’m starving.” Ryan points to his page. “I think I’m gonna grab one of the hungry man specials.”
I take a look at the page and the little photos that helpfully give you an idea of what you’re ordering. “Me too,” I agree, placing my menu on his.
“No way,” he muses. His blue eyes search my body. “Where do you think you’re gonna pack all that food away? There’s no chance you can eat all that.”
“Wanna bet?” I hold out my hand and my cheeks blaze even brighter when I remember how our last bet went.
“What’s the wager?” His eyes twinkle.
I can see he has a prize in mind… me.
“If I win, we have to find a bar or club where we can dance tonight. I want to see what kind of moves you’re hiding.” I lean back and smile.
“Oh, I’ll show you all my moves. Don’t worry about that.” He grins. “And what if you lose?”
“I don’t know. What are you thinking?”
His eyes glint like rays of sunshine in a summer sky. “If you lose, you also have to dance. But not in some club. Just for me. I want a full-on striptease.” He sits up straight, clearly way too proud of himself.
He thinks I’m gonna back down. Like that’s going to be enough to make me doubt myself.
“If I were you, I’d get your dancing shoes polished up, ’cause you’ve got a deal.” I hold out my hand and he shakes it.
“Well, when I win, I don’t want you wearing any shoes at all. Not a stitch of anything by the time you’re done.”
He’s so cocky.
When the waitress comes over we both order the same hungry man special with a large Coke each and she writes it down and leaves us.
Just as she leaves, I notice a man who was looking our way turns around in his seat quickly. Like he doesn’t want to meet my eyes. My heart leaps into my throat as my body quivers. That’s his jacket. That’s Wolfe. How did he find me?
“What’s wrong?” Ryan follows my gaze and frowns.
“That’s him. It’s Wolfe.” I try to shrink under the table. To fold over and disappear, even though I know he already spotted me. Is he waiting for us to leave here? Is he going to follow us out and put a bullet in our heads? I have no way of knowing.
“It’s not him.” Ryan squints and looks at me like he’s trying to reassure me. It’s not working.
“That’s his jacket. I know it’s him. What are we gonna do?” My mouth is dry, but the waitress hasn’t brought our drinks yet. I feel like my tongue is coated in sand.
“Are you sure?”
“I am.”
“All right, enough of this shit.” Ryan pops up from his seat and strides across the floor with purpose. Even though he’s halfway across the restaurant, I can hear him clear as day. “Okay, buddy, I think it’s about time—”
He stops dead in his tracks. He’s frozen solid. The man turns and I can finally see his face. And it’s clearly not Wolfe. The stranger looks up at Ryan, confused.
“About time for what?”
“Uh, it’s, I think it’s about time I paid it forward today.” Ryan’s tone changes completely. All the edge has been smoothed from his voice. “Someone paid for our breakfast this morning, so I want to pay for your lunch,” he stumbles but tries to think on his feet.
“What?” The guy doesn’t appear angry, just like he truly doesn’t understand.
“Yep, um, here’s a couple twenties.” Ryan digs out his wallet and slaps the bills on the table before walking back to me.
“Thanks?” the man calls out like he’s asking a question.
Ryan responds by lifting his hand in the air and sliding back into our booth.
“Fuck. I’m sorry, Ryan. I really thought it was him.”
“I know, Red. I know. It’s okay. Listen, I think it’s clear you need to relax. After lunch we’re going to find a nice hotel to stay at tonight. I think you need somewhere you can take a bath and just chill for the night.”
“Sure,” I mumble at my hands, embarrassed. I was sure it was Wolfe. Sure of it. I glance over at the man across the room and see, yet again, just how wrong I was. “Sounds good,” I agree.
16 | Ryan
Even though it’s early, the sun is already starting to slice across the autumn sky. I hate how dark it gets in early winter. The short days filled with dreary weather are enough to put anyone on edge. Normally I’d stay south this time of year. That way I wouldn’t be worrying about when the clouds will change from dropping rain to snow. I suppose after I get Red to Portland, that’s where I’ll head.
The thought gnaws at my gut, but I push it away. There’s not much I can do about it. As much as I love having her in my life, as much as she makes every day exciting, and even as much as I love how she’s helped me escape my own demons while we’ve been fighting off hers, nothing changes that she’s only in my life temporarily. There’s nothing I can do to stop her from going away. She never told me this was anything more than a destination road trip. It’s what I promised her. And I need to keep that promise.
Even if it aches inside to think of my life without her.
I focus on the exits, knowing that mine is coming up soon. I told Red I’d take her to a nice place and let her chill for a night. I pull off the freeway, driving into the city and toward our hotel for the evening. I scoped out my map on my phone at our last pit stop, and purposely picked the nicest hotel I could find close to the freeway.
Pulling into the parking lot, I feel like I did a pretty good job as the fancy entrance of the Ritz-Carlton welcomes us. Cutting the engine, I smile at Red, but she doesn’t return it. She’s already holding my helmet in her hands, looking up at the hotel like I just drove her to the front door of a castle. Her pink lips are parted with surprise and her green eyes have doubled in size.
“This place is too expensive,” she whispers her protest.
I slide off my seat and hold out my hand to her for balance. “You just let me worry about that. It won’t cost you a dime,” I reassure her.
“Oh, I can’t. I don’t deserve this. I can’t repay you.” She starts trying to shut me down, but I won’t hear of it.
Holding up my hand, I hush her stream of worries. “Don’t tell me you don’t deserve something nice, Red. You deserve a hell of a lot more than a night in a fancy-fucking-pants hotel. Let me spoil you tonight.”
She clamps her lips shut and keeps the rest of her concerns inside. I wish I had more time with her. That I could spend days and weeks and months showing her how much better she really does deserve. Not just with nice hotel rooms or expensive things. Those things have their place, but it shouldn’t be to prove someone’s worth. I’d show her by making her breakfasts and washing her back when she took a bath. I’d show her with the way I’d worship her skin with my tongue and how I’d let her talk for hours, listening intently to every word. I get the feeling that these are little things she’s never had. Just tiny fragments of kindness that would build her up. Just little moments I’d happily share with her forever.
And since forever isn’t an option, I’ll take the short time we have left together.
“C’mon.” I grab her delicate hand and lead her to the front doors. At first she walks slowly, like she’s in a haze, but her pace picks up and we strut across the front lobby together like we own the place.
“Welcome to the Ritz-Carlton, sir. Do you have a reservation?” A hoity-toity looking woman with a pinched expression stares over her glasses at me.
“Sure do. It’s under Rogers.” I slip my credit card from my wallet and slide it across the counter. She doesn’t look any more impressed with me, but at least she directs her judgmental eyes to her computer screen as she pulls up my details.
“Ahhh, yes. I see you made this
a few hours ago.”
I wouldn’t think that’s a bad thing, but the way she says it makes me wonder.
“That’s the one.” I ignore her snobby attitude. I’m not going to let some customer service agent with a chip on her shoulder start this stay on the wrong foot.
The woman sniffs and types my information onto the screen. I look around the foyer while she makes up our key cards and soak in the luxurious space. With the high gilded ceilings and the Roman style columns, they certainly know how to make a first impression.
“Here you go, sir. Your room is on the fifth floor and our elevators are across the lobby to the right.” She vaguely nods in the direction.
“Sounds good.” I snatch up the keys and my credit card and start to walk Red over. “Oh, just one more thing,” I turn and yell across the space to the receptionist.
“Sir?”
“There’s an all-you-can eat breakfast buffet here, right? The website I booked through, Traveling on Parole, mentioned that.”
The woman pales and her lips turn down. “No, we don’t have anything like that available.” Her snark seems to have been replaced by some other emotion. I just can’t place it.
“No worries, we’ll get by. Won’t we?” I glance over at Red and she bites her smile, giving me a look that tells me to quit fucking around. “As long as you got a bathtub to mix moonshine in, I’m sure we’ll be fine,” I call out over my shoulder and head to the elevator.
I guess the front desk clerk figured out I was messing with her because I can hear her indignant sigh all the way across the lobby. That’s what she gets for being so stuck-up. I click the button to summon the elevator and look over down the hall at the open double doors leading into the hotel ballroom. Inside there’s a crew setting up tables and decorating the dance floor for some kind of function. I squint my eyes and read the sign outside the door. “Velvet and Eric’s Reception.”
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