Gripping the wheel tighter, he cursed up a storm. He’d been such a fool. For so damn long he’d clung to a big what if. That possibility had tied him up, tethered him, and obsessed him.
Today, he was cut loose. Left adrift and unmoored.
Glancing at the green sign on the highway, he registered that he was five miles from his house. He wanted to see his dog, but he also didn’t want to be alone. The closer the truck wheels turned to the exit, the less he wanted to be by himself.
He needed company. He needed someone.
Though he desperately wanted to see Sophie, he didn’t want to see her like this. Not when his head was messier than it had ever been, and not when his heart was twisted into tattered strands.
The time he’d spent with Sophie over the last few weeks was like shedding a skin, molting his old self, leaving it behind.
But now?
Hell, he didn’t know if he was coming or going. If he was the guy he’d been before or the man he’d become with Sophie.
Limbo. This was the utter hell of limbo. He was stuck in it like quicksand, and he didn’t want to drag her down with him.
He needed the three people in his life who’d known him before, during and after.
As he turned on his blinker to exit the highway, he called Shannon, gave her the rundown, and she told him she’d gather the crew.
Then his phone rang, and it was Sophie.
* * *
Passport? Check.
Luggage packed? Done.
Flight checked into? Good to go.
After zipping her suitcase, she left a small toiletry kit on top of it, which she would tuck inside tomorrow morning. Then she called the car service that would take her to the airport at the crack of dawn, to confirm that everything was set for her pickup.
When she hung up, she scrolled across her home screen in case it revealed a missed call from Ryan. It had been ten hours since he’d left, and she was eager to know how his day had gone. The more time passed, the more nervous she became about what had happened in Hawthorne. But she wasn’t a teenager debating whether to call a boy she liked. She was a grown woman dating a man, so she dialed his number as she walked into her kitchen to grab a glass of water.
“Hey,” he said, his voice hollow.
She had never heard him sound so dead. “Hey to you. So how did it go?”
He sighed heavily. “Let me pull over.”
The sound of the car engine stopping greeted her ears as she turned on the tap. Then he told her his mother had confessed. She gripped the counter, and set down the water glass. Words sputtered out. “Oh my God, Ryan. I can’t believe she told you that. How? Why? How are you doing?”
“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know how I’m doing. It’s like my world is upside down. Because I believed in the possibility of her maybe being innocent for the longest time, and now it’s been twisted and turned inside out. I don’t know what to do now, or what to think about anything,” he said in that same monotone.
Her heart ached for him, and she wanted to comfort him, and hold him close. She wanted to be the one he leaned on. “Do you want me to delay my trip so that we can spend time together? So I can be there with you as you deal with this? I can easily push my flight back a few days if you need me.”
If you need me.
Oh God, she desperately wanted him to need her. Her pulse raced with longing for his yes.
“No,” he said quickly. “I can’t let you do that.”
“I don’t mind. I want to be here for you,” she said, trying to comfort him.
“It’s okay. I need to go see my sister and brothers now anyway.”
“Of course,” she said, and she understood logically why he’d want to go see them. She just wished her stupid heart didn’t hurt the tiniest bit that he hadn’t needed her. “Go. See them,” she said in her cheeriest voice. He didn’t need to detect her worry right now. He had enough on his plate.
“I should probably call your brother, too. I guess I’ll see you…” he said, but his voice trailed off.
She picked up the thread, crossing her fingers. “Do you still want me to come by later? Or do you want to come here?” she asked, ready to kick herself for sounding like a lovesick teenager.
“Soph,” he said, his voice heavy. “I’m not in a good place right now. I think I just need to give John the news then be with Shan, Michael and Colin. Everything—the visit, the pattern, the stuff she said—it’s hitting me hard and fucking with my head again. Let me deal with this and then I’ll see you.”
She gulped. “Of course, of course. This is a huge thing and you need to talk to them.”
“When do you get back from your trip?”
“Next week.”
“I’ll see you then. We’ll do something special. Finally ride the roller coaster at New York, New York together. Okay?” But he didn’t sound as if he was looking forward to their reunion. He sounded as if he didn’t care.
“Sure,” she said, nodding several times, trying to convince herself that he still cared.
“Yeah. I just…right now…”
“You need to take a step back,” she said, filling in the gap.
“Not from you. Just from…”
“Feeling so much?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I just need to see them right now.”
“You go. Drive safely. I love you.”
“I love you,” he said, but he didn’t sound as if he believed it, and the deadness in his tone made her want to cry.
When he hung up, she let the tears fall, even though they felt selfish, even though they felt like weakness. The tears fell for herself, and for him, too. For all he was dealing with. For this new bombshell dropped in his lap. His family couldn’t catch a damn break, and she hated that the tragedy in his past was tearing new fissures in his present.
A little later, after she’d dabbed her cheeks and dried her eyes, she let the reel of the last few weeks play, trying to understand the man. He’d been private and circumspect at first. When pushed, he’d become open and vulnerable. But what if the talking was more of the exception than the norm?
Had he returned to the man he was before?
Three and out. Over and done. Protect your heart. Don’t get close to anybody but your family.
Even then, family could stab you in the back. He’d learned the hard way.
Call her overdramatic. Call her a conclusion-leaper. Or call her a cool analyst of the situation.
That very morning, Ryan had left her a note saying he would come see her tonight. Because I can’t stay away from you, Sophie. I swear, I can’t.
She could live without seeing him tonight. She wasn’t seventeen. But what worried her was the complete 180-degree shift he’d made in ten hours. He’d left his house determined to find his way back to her that night, no matter what. But when everything changed, so did his desire for her. His family story had prevented him from getting close to her in the first place. His family background wasn’t going away. It was only becoming more complicated, with more players, more names, and more threads.
More time.
More space.
More moments to retreat.
Hunting for information, she sank down on a kitchen stool, and called her brother. “I know you can’t give me the details of the case, and I’m not asking for them, but I need to know—is this going to end anytime soon?”
John exhaled loudly. “Sophie, you know I don’t have an answer. Even if this were an open-and-shut case I wouldn’t have the answer. These things can go on forever. Oddly enough, this case was something of a rarity in the first place when his mother was arrested and tried in a matter of months the first time. Most cases go on for a long time, especially when they’re reopened, and involve gangs and crimes committed over the years.”
Years.
That word clung heavily to the air, like thick smog.
What would that be like? Every time there was a new wrinkle, would Ryan retreat? Would she always b
e the one who had to step closer to him? To offer the shoulder to lean on?
She’d offered it tonight, and he hadn’t taken it.
Would he ever want it or need it? And would she be satisfied if he always turned elsewhere for comfort? Compared to him she’d had an easy life. As he reeled over his mother’s guilt, here she was jetting off to Frankfurt to check out her new car, for Christ’s sake. But that was all the more reason why she wanted to be the supportive one—because she could. She could be here to hold his hand when he needed her. But he didn’t seem to want that.
To keep herself busy, she called Holden and met him for a drink at the Mirage.
“I have news,” he said, his eyes lighting up after he’d ordered his white wine.
“Do tell,” she said, glad to focus on something else.
He leaned in to whisper. “I met someone.”
She clapped twice. “Tell me everything. What’s he like?”
Holden wiggled his eyebrows. “Actually, he’s a she.”
“A she? Like she used to be a he?”
He laughed and shook his head. “No. I meant I’m seeing a woman.”
“You are?” He nodded, but the answer seemed so strange, even though this had always been a possibility. Somehow, it had been easier to think of him with men than with women.
“What’s she like, then?”
“Oh, she’s lovely. Natalie is very sweet and friendly.” As he waxed on about the new woman in his life, Sophie tried to ignore the strange new sting in her heart from this conversation. Seeing Holden through the lens of a preference for men had been far more manageable for her ego, it turned out. Now, her confidence was suffering another blow, unexpectedly, with this realization that she wasn’t the right woman for Holden either.
But there was more to this hollow ache in her heart. A new worry took root—the fear that Holden would slip away from her, too, as he cozied up to Natalie. Because Sophie couldn’t help but wonder how this new lady would feel about him being so friendly with his ex-wife, and if this most predictable relationship in her life was about to become unpredictable, too.
She loathed instability.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Colin arrived first, with two six-packs. Ryan side-eyed the beers. “Corona?”
His younger brother shrugged. “That’s not what you drink?”
Ryan shook his head, grabbed the beers, and shut the door. “Haven’t had a Corona since I was in college.”
Colin shrugged. “What do I know about beer?”
“Nothing. As you fucking should. I’m all out of that near beer shit. Want a soda?”
“Always,” Colin said, and they headed for the kitchen. Ryan handed him a can of Diet Coke, then opened a Corona and took a long swallow. It tasted like spring break.
“Guess you don’t hate it that much,” Colin said pointedly.
“Guess I needed a drink after my day.”
“So what’s the deal? Shan said Mom confessed to you?” Colin made a keep rolling motion with his hand. “What the hell?”
“Yup,” Ryan said, taking another drink then setting the bottle on the counter and telling him everything that went down in the visiting room.
Colin scoffed. “Made her do it. See? Even now, she holds onto the notion that she somehow isn’t to blame.”
Ryan shrugged. “Yeah, well. That’s not what this is really about. That’s not why I feel like I’m pretty much having the second-worst day of my life.”
Colin yanked him in for a hug. “Yeah, I know,” he said softly. “I know, man. You wanted to believe her. You wanted to hold on to a possibility. You wanted that hope that maybe she hadn’t done it.”
“Can you blame me? Wouldn’t you want that too?”
“Sure,” Colin said with a nod as he broke the hug, stopping to pet Ryan’s dog, who’d wandered into the kitchen. “Of course it would be really fucking fantastic if she didn’t do it, Ry. It would be like the greatest thing in the world if our mother didn’t have our father killed, right?”
Though there was a touch of sarcasm in Colin’s remark, there was also the bare truth. It would be the greatest thing.
“But you see, I came to peace long ago with the fact that she did,” Colin continued. “Maybe details are still coming to light. Maybe the detective is looking for accomplices. And maybe he’ll find them, and they can join Jerry fucking Stefano in the big house where they all belong. The fact is, our mother was into some fucked up shit, from associating with the likes of Stefano, to the ass she was cheating with. She was a messed-up, desperate woman who wanted money, and wanted out so badly she killed for it.”
Colin dropped the volume on his voice and draped an arm over Ryan’s shoulder. “This shit happens. Just look at the New York prison escapees and how that woman was going to have one of them kill her husband. It’s awful, and it feels shocking from a distance, but up close, when it happens to you, you can’t believe it. You wish it didn’t happen.” Colin tapped his chest with his free hand. “I wish that, too. But it did. This is our fucked up story. This isn’t the news. This isn’t the papers. This isn’t someone else’s tragedy. It happened to us, and deep down somewhere inside you”—Colin moved his hand to Ryan’s chest, tapping his breastbone, searching for his heart—“you know it’s true.”
Ryan swallowed hard. He scrubbed his hand over his jaw, trying to process the whole damn day, but making no sense of the way the floor beneath him was tilting and cracking. “What do you mean, I know it’s true?”
Colin squeezed his shoulder. “You think this confession changes your whole life. You think it changes everything you’ve believed about Mom. But it doesn’t. Deep down, you knew she was involved. Deep down you knew she was responsible. But you hoped, because you’re human. Because you wanted to believe in redemption, in basic goodness, in good overcoming evil. You held onto that tiny little kernel of hope,” Colin said, cupping his palms together as if he were holding a precious seed. “You held it and you wanted it to become something. You wanted to believe that maybe things were different. It’s okay to have hope. It’s okay to cling to it. We all wanted that, too. Desperately. The rest of us just let go of it sooner. Now, it’s your turn. Let it go,” he said, and opened his hands.
Ryan watched the cool, empty air in his kitchen, imagining a dandelion seed falling in the breeze, the wind blowing it away. Was Colin right? Had Ryan truly known in his gut, in his heart, all along? Had some part of him known she was responsible, but some other part clung to the idea that she might be innocent simply because hope felt good?
Was that why he held onto the pattern? Why he went to see her every month? Why he nursed the possibility of innocence like a gardener tending to the first buds of spring? Because hope was a precious thing, it was a gift, and when so many things had gone wrong, he’d needed an anchor?
Hope was his anchor.
Hope that the past could be rewritten.
But the past didn’t have to be redone. It was still playing out in the present, unfurling new wrinkles every day, and he’d have to roll with them, to dodge, dart, and avoid the punches.
His true anchor was right here with him. His brother. And his other brother Michael, joining them now, along with his sister, Shannon. They were his foundation. They were the ones who’d made it with him through the years.
Today had floored him. But tonight had taught him that he’d been clinging to something he was ready to say goodbye to. “Anyone want to go for a late-night swim?” he asked.
“Hell yeah,” Michael said.
* * *
A few hours later, Ryan and Michael were buzzed, Shannon was tipsy, and Colin was hyper on caffeine. They’d also lost track of who was winning the water volleyball match, but who cared? The clock was closing in on two in the morning, and they were having a blast in the turquoise water, lit up from the lights in the pool. They’d talked some, and they’d cried some, and they’d laughed some more. Through it all, they were together, just as the four of them had always be
en.
No matter what.
Michael slammed the volleyball out of the water, sending it careening across the dark grass. He swam to the shallow end, and they followed him.
“Let’s drink a toast,” Michael said when he reached the steps and grabbed his beer.
“You’ve been drinking all night,” Colin said, hopping out of the water to grab a towel and dry his hair.
“No need to stop now,” Ryan chimed in as he reached for his bottle, and rested his arm on the edge of the pool. “Besides, you brought us the beer. Your fault.”
Colin pushed a hand through his damp, black hair, then tossed his towel on a lounge chair. “I’m sure you had plenty in your fridge. I was just trying to be nice to my sad sack of a brother.”
“Hey. Watch it now. I’m still older,” Ryan said.
“Yeah, but you’re not brighter,” Colin said with a wink.
Ryan shot him a look that said maybe he was right. Colin had figured out the hard stuff well before Ryan had.
Michael raised his Corona. “Never let the non-drinker pick beer again, please. Can that just be a rule?”
Colin rolled his eyes and dipped his foot in the water to splash Michael.
Then Michael’s expression turned serious and he cleared his throat. “Listen. We’ve spent enough time talking about her. She had Ryan in her clutches for far too long. Tonight, he’s letting go of all that stuff, so let’s drink a toast to the man we all love and miss.” Michael’s eyes started to water. “To Dad. I still remember how he was when I was learning to drive. He bought me a donut the first time I nailed a three-point turn. Said he was proud of me for that small accomplishment. He was always saying that about the little things we did, and always ready to celebrate with a donut,” Michael said, with admiration in his tone.
The water lolled gently in the pool. Somewhere in the yard, crickets chirped. Shannon went next. “I remember when he taught me to play pool. He was patient and determined. He told me he wanted his only girl to be able to beat all his sons, and he coached me until I was able to.”
“And she does. She schools us all,” Ryan said, with a tip of the cap to his sister.
Sinful Desire Page 29
