by Lissa Manley
Sonya and his parents had doled out enough cruel pain to last him a lifetime.
He forced himself to look right at her. “No, things aren’t different,” he said in a low tone tinged with sadness. “It kills me to hurt you, but I just can’t ignore who you are and what you’ve done. I can’t ignore my own need to protect myself.”
She nodded, pressing her lips together, her eyes filled with a deep sadness. “That’s what I thought.” Silence hung over them for a few seconds, and then she abruptly turned and opened the door. “Thank you for your honesty,” she said in a wobbly voice, her back to him. “I appreciate it.”
She stepped out into the hall, and a sudden, crazy panic filled him. He didn’t want her to go, didn’t want her to walk away and leave him, never to be seen again.
For a split second, he wanted to call her back. To hell with the past. But then an image of Sonya filled his brain and the idea died quickly. No, Anna had played him for a fool and shown him she had the power to hurt him. This was the way it had to be.
“Goodbye, Ryan.” She turned and gave him a brave smile. “Have a good life.”
He watched her walk down the hall to the elevator, his chest filled with a sudden, fiery ache.
And then she stepped into the elevator and walked out of his life forever.
The words I’m sorry echoed in his head.
But he wasn’t saying them to Anna.
He was saying them to himself.
“I hit it! I hit it!” Juan cried, jumping up and down, pointing across the park in the direction he’d hit the baseball. “Did you see that, Wyan?”
Ryan smiled and gave Juan a thumbs up, hoping the speech therapy classes he’d enrolled him in would show results soon. “I sure did. That’d be a homer for sure.”
“I want to do it again, lots of times.” Juan assumed the odd batting stance he’d adopted, his jeans-clad rear stuck way out. “Can I hit again, Wyan? Please?”
“You can hit it as many times as you want, after we eat,” Ryan said, heading toward the blanket he’d spread out in the grass. He gestured to the ball. “Go get the ball, okay, buddy? I’m starved,” he lied. His normally healthy appetite had ceased to exist.
Juan frowned and hung his head, but started in the direction of the ball. “Okay. But I’m eating fast so I can hit lots more.”
Ryan shook his head, grinning, proud of the way Juan had taken to baseball. The kid was a natural and should be on a Little League team, an experience Ryan had missed out on because his parents couldn’t afford the fee or take the time to sign him up and go to games. He made a mental note to look into that for Juan. Every child should be able to play baseball in the warm spring air, or in the case of Oregon, the cold spring rain.
With the warm June sun beating down on his back, Ryan opened the cooler, and set out the deli sandwiches, drinks and potato chips he’d bought premade at the store, his mood lightening a bit. Maybe being with the little guy, teaching him how to hit and catch, would help get rid of the pall that had come down on Ryan since Anna had left his apartment yesterday, her eyes glazed with unhappiness.
Damn, he hoped so. He wanted to obliterate the ache in his soul with everything in him, the pain that had burned inside of him since she’d confessed her real identity.
Anna Sinclair. Major heiress. He should be thinking about that—who she really was, the kind of woman she’d turned out to be. Instead, since she’d come to fight for him, opening floodgates he couldn’t seem to stop, he found himself remembering her sweet smile, delicate scent and strong-willed determination to succeed, which, surprisingly, had become even more impressive since he’d found out who she was. As Anna Sinclair, she could sit around and eat bonbons all day.
Instead she’d bravely embarked on a quest for a career as a bridal designer as working girl Anna Simpson, determined to succeed without her family name backing her up. Even more impressive, when she could have easily fallen back on clinching the Perfect Bridal account, she hadn’t. No. She’d stood up to her father and demanded her right to follow her dream. As much as Ryan didn’t want to, he admired the hell out of her for that.
But admiring her didn’t change anything. He might eventually be able to forgive her for lying to him, but he would never be able to forget that she was exactly the kind of woman he’d sworn never to get tangled up with again. He could never allow himself to love her.
Juan came bounding up, the baseball in his hands. “Here it is, Wyan.” He dropped the ball on the ground and plopped down on the blanket next to Ryan. “When can we play some more?”
Ryan put a small ham sandwich and some chips on a plate and handed it to Juan. “You gotta eat if you’re going to be a big-time baseball player.” He noticed Juan’s grubby hands, wishing he’d had the brains to bring some antibacterial cleanser.
“Hey, bud, let’s wipe your hands.”
Juan held out his hands, and Ryan dampened a paper napkin on the ice in the cooler and wiped them off as best he could. “There you go. Dig in.”
Juan picked up the sandwich and took a bite. “Yeah, I know I gotta eat,” he mumbled around the food. “But it’s just so neat, hitting the ball and watching it fly.”
Ryan shoved a straw in a juice-box, Juan’s favorite drink, and set it on the blanket. “Thirsty? There’s a juice box.”
Juan grabbed the box and downed the whole thing in one long swig, then attacked the chips, chattering on and on about baseball, a girl in his class who could bend her arm the wrong way—cool, huh?—and a grasshopper he’d found but had to let go.
Ryan opened another juice-box for Juan and halfheartedly ate his sandwich, letting Juan talk, enjoying the kid’s view of the world and silly stories.
At one point, Juan hesitated and looked up at him, his big, brown eyes sad, and said, “My gwanny is sick, isn’t she?”
Ryan’s stomach tightened. “Yes, she is, buddy. Her arthritis is flaring up, and she has an infection in her tummy that’s making her sick.” Juan’s granny had been admitted into the hospital yesterday and Juan had been temporarily moved into emergency foster care. Luckily the arrangement had worked out well. Juan had been to this foster house before and was familiar with and liked the people who lived there.
Ryan cleared his throat. “Juan, I saw your grandmother in the hospital this morning, and she gave me permission to tell you something very important.”
Juan stopped chewing and looked up at him. “Is it bad?” he asked in a small voice, his face serious, his eyes large.
“No, no, bud,” Ryan said, his heart twisting. Juan had had to deal with too many bad things in his young life, just like Ryan had. He took Juan’s small hand in his and squeezed. “I think it’s very good. You know your friend Kenny from school?”
Juan nodded.
“Well, Kenny’s parents have decided that they want to adopt you.”
Juan broke out into a huge smile. “Weally? They’re neat. I went there once for a birfday party, and they have a big house, and a yard and a big, black dog who catches the Fwisbee when I throw it.”
“Well, pretty soon, that will be your house and your dog, Juan,” he told him, glad that he’d checked out the family for himself and was satisfied they would give Juan the love and stability he deserved. “They’re very anxious to have you come and join the family.”
Juan stood, his face wreathed in smiles, and jumped up and down and flailed his arms around. “Yippee!” he crowed, running in circles. “I’m going to have a weal family, and Kenny will be my weal bother, and I’ll have a weal dog, and a weal yard. Yippee, Yip-—” He stopped and stared at Ryan, concern growing in his brown eyes. “But what about you, Wyan?”
Ryan jerked his eyebrows together. “What do you mean? I’ll still come visit you.”
Juan slowly knelt and touched Ryan’s hand, suddenly looking very miserable and very, very serious for a six-year-old. “When I get ’dopted I’ll have a family, and you’ll be all alone.”
Ryan’s chest tightened as if he had a vi
se clamped around him.
All alone.
The words echoed through his hollow heart, creating an icy void he wasn’t sure he could ever fill.
He forced his mouth into a smile and rubbed Juan’s thin shoulder. “Aw, bud, don’t worry about me.” The last thing he wanted to do was ruin Juan’s happy day with his own problems. “I’ll be fine, and I’ll still come see you all the time. All right? And as soon as your granny is well, I’m sure she’ll come see you, too.” Thank heaven Juan’s drug-head, convict parents had permanently signed away their parental rights.
Juan stood up and stared at Ryan, his deep brown eyes reflecting something Ryan had never seen there before. Before he could figure out what the look meant, Juan plastered himself against Ryan’s chest, squeezing his thin arms around Ryan’s neck. “I love you, Wyan.”
Ryan froze briefly, feeling Juan’s trusting, warm, angular body next to his. He slowly put his arms around Juan and squeezed him tight, trying to absorb all the good things this one little boy had brought into his life. “I love you, too, buddy,” he whispered, his voice husky, meaning it with everything in him. Warmth filled his chest.
Juan pulled away and patted Ryan’s cheek. “If you get lonely, maybe you can come and live with Kenny and me.” And then he ran off, flinging the baseball in the air.
“Stay where I can see you!” Ryan managed to call to Juan.
He then sat on the blanket, one elbow propped on a raised knee, his mind spinning, his heart full and complete and warm.
He rubbed his forehead. He’d been so damn sure that the lack of love in his life proved love wasn’t real and that he would never, ever feel it. Sure, he’d offhandedly told Anna he loved Juan, but he hadn’t been sure he really did. He hadn’t, he realized, known what love felt like.
Now he knew, unequivocally, that he loved Juan. There was no mistaking the warm, wonderful feeling filling his heart to overflowing, warming him from the inside out.
Love did exist.
Juan’s genuine love and honesty had opened up Ryan’s heart and shown him the truth. He genuinely loved Juan, cared about him, wanted what was best for him.
Ryan smiled, liking the feeling of actually loving someone and embracing the emotion wholeheartedly. But his mood fell when he realized that Juan was right about one thing. Even though Ryan would continue to see Juan whenever he could, Ryan would be, for the most part, all alone. Sure, he had his business to keep him busy, and he loved to ride his motorcycle, and had a few buddies who he hung out with occasionally. And he certainly had plenty of money to travel the world. But now, the thought of being truly solitary for the rest of his life created a huge blank space inside of him.
Anna.
Her name popped into his head, and as much as he hated to admit it, he’d been happier than he could ever remember being with her. He’d looked forward to her laughter, her kisses, her mere presence.
Just the thought of never seeing her again left a familiar sick feeling in the pit of his belly. Even though her deception and revelation of her real identity had burned him to the core, she had filled up his life with warmth and companionship and a simple happiness and contentment he’d never felt before.
Would he ever feel those things again?
Dread, pure, real and pretty damn frightening, moved through him, setting his nerves on a hard edge. He deliberately brought to mind the profound lesson Juan had taught him.
Love existed.
If he knew where to look.
If he knew how to forget his past and embrace it.
All at once, it was as if all lingering bits of pain and betrayal from his past magically disintegrated, finally freeing his heart, allowing him to see what was important—and what wasn’t.
Love wasn’t something he could or couldn’t allow. It lived inside of him, a living, breathing thing, existing on its own whether he acknowledged it or not.
Love just was.
Thankful he’d discovered the truth, he glanced at his watch, filled with a do-or-die anticipation. He had to return Juan to his temporary foster home in an hour. After that, Ryan had something important to do, something that couldn’t wait.
Something that had the power to change his life— good or bad—forever.
Because Juan had taught him that the love inside of him wasn’t so unfamiliar after all.
And he knew exactly where he needed to look now.
He only hoped he hadn’t made the discovery too damn late.
What if Anna had changed her mind?
Ryan dropped off Juan at his foster home with the brand new baseball mitt, ball, and glove Ryan had bought for him, along with a promise to play more baseball—all day long—tomorrow.
Ryan then quickly headed home and traded his cairn favor of his motorcycle. He needed to feel the summer wind on his face, needed the sense of freedom and calm riding his bike always brought him to counteract the ominous dread creeping into him by the second. Within minutes, he was headed to Anna’s hotel, but the calm his bike usually caused was obliterated by the anxious thoughts ping-ponging around inside his brain.
What if she was gone?
He’d go after her.
What if she didn’t want him after his callous, weak-willed, wrongheaded behavior last night?
He’d do everything in his power to change her mind.
What if that didn’t work?
He refused to consider that. He’d finally discovered that the only thing that mattered was that he loved Anna.
No matter who she was.
He wasn’t about to give up now.
Filled with an impending sense of doom, he parked his bike in a No Parking zone at the front of the hotel and hurried into the lobby, praying Anna hadn’t checked out. He went directly to the front desk to ask if she was still registered. But before he could ask the question, a man stepped up next to him.
“Aren’t you Ryan Cavanaugh?” the man asked. “I recognize you from the pictures in the paper.”
Ryan looked at the impeccably dressed, gray-haired man. Familiar brown eyes stared back at him. A vague sense of recognition shot through him. He lowered his brows. “Do I know you?”
The other man extended his hand. “Peter Sinclair.”
Ryan’s mouth went dry. “Of course.” He shook the proffered hand. “Your daughter has your eyes.”
“My one contribution. Her mother gets the rest of the credit.”
Ryan looked around. “Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but—”
“You’re looking for her, aren’t you?”
Ryan nodded and unbuttoned his leather jacket, feeling warm. This was Anna’s father, the one person besides her who might be able to make or break his chances with her. “Yes, I am.”
Mr. Sinclair leaned one elbow on the front desk and skewered him with his dark eyes. “Do you love her?” he asked bluntly.
“I do, sir,” Ryan said without hesitation. He had Juan to thank for pounding some sense into him. How did the saying go? Out of the mouths of babes?
Mr. Sinclair nodded to the bellman’s station. “That’s her luggage there.”
Ryan looked at the navy blue matched set and swallowed heavily. His heart squeezed. “She’s leaving?”
Mr. Sinclair rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure what she’s doing. We were getting ready to go to the airport, but the strangest thing happened. She took a teddy bear from her luggage—called the thing Nayr for heaven sake—and said she needed to go to some Rose Park.” He gazed speculatively at Ryan. “Does that mean anything to you?”
The bear he’d won for her at the Festival Center. Raw hope trickled through Ryan. He stared at Mr. Sinclair. “What did you say she called the bear?”
“Nayr. Strangest thing I’ve ever heard. She said the name had some personal significance…” He trailed off, then tilted his head and shrugged. “Of course, she’s been picking odd names for her stuffed animals since she was a little girl. Had a stuffed hippo she called Retep. I always wondered how she came up with that n
ame.”
Ryan tuned out Sinclair, going over the bear’s name in his head. Nair? Like the hair remover? No. Maybe Nayr…
N A Y R. He spelled it over and over again in his head, remembering what Anna had told him about how she’d named her stuffed animals after people she cared about when she was a child.
Ryan. Spelled backward! Yes!
It was a dumb thing to hold on to, but it was all he had. Anna had named the bear after him. And she hadn’t left town yet. He looked at her father. “Yes, sir it does mean something to me. Maybe everything.” He backed away, holding up a hand. “Thanks. You’ll never know how much this means to me.”
Mr. Sinclair inclined his head. “Oh, I know, trust me.” He gave Ryan a tight smile. “Just don’t hurt my little girl again, all right?”
Ryan smiled grimly back, hoping he had the chance to make up for how much he’d already hurt her. “Oh, you can be sure I won’t.” And he meant it. When he thought about how he’d turned her away last night he wanted to kick himself until he was black and blue.
He turned and sprinted out the hotel door. Within seconds he was on his bike, heading toward the Rose Garden Park.
But before he’d ridden a block, he took a quick detour to a little store he’d seen on the way to the hotel. After a few minutes of frenzied searching in the store for the right item, he paid the cashier and hopped back on his bike, a small parcel tucked into the front of his leather jacket. As he sped to the park, breaking every speed limit along the way, he prayed with everything in him that her naming the bear after him was a positive sign.
And that Anna hadn’t gone to the place they’d met to say goodbye.
To him.
* * * * *
“Well, Nayr, I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing here,” Anna said to the Teddy bear she held in her lap. “I should be leaving.” She sat on the stairs leading down to the Rose Garden, adjacent to the exact spot where she and Ryan had first met and where she’d fallen over in her wedding gown.
