by Brinda Berry
Maybe he’s right. The boy will understand soon enough that I’m not a threat.
Glancing over at Gunner, I stay silent. He lost his dad to meth. I lost my dad when I was a baby. His dad sits in prison. My dad lies in the ground.
Both of us lack male role models.
I look at Ryder, pulling on Makenna’s hand because they aren’t going inside the barn.
Kiley places her hands on her hips. Ryder breaks free and runs toward us. Finally. The kid just needs to warm up to me.
“See?” Gunner says.
When Ryder reaches us, he extends a small hand and grabs Gunner’s fingers. “Come. On,” he says, pulling Gunner with no real results.
I cock my head to the side and nod. “It’s me. I knew it was me.”
Gunner picks Ryder up and lifts him onto his shoulders. Ryder giggles as they walk toward the barn. Perfect. I should figure out what Gunner’s done right.
It shouldn’t matter so much if he’s not enamored with me right off the bat. But it does.
One look at Makenna sends a vitamin shot of happy straight into my veins. She has a huge grin and looks up at Ryder. Auburn hair streams back from her face in rippling waves of pure color. Ryder’s still laughing, that little kid kind of belly-laughter that is contagious. The sound carries like wind chimes across the backyard.
I cannot fail at this. If Ryder doesn’t like me, I know she’ll end our dates—the right choice for any mother.
And there will go my chance to get to know her better. Gut instinct tells me that I have to try harder to form a bond with the kid.
I stride forward to meet them. I’m not the type to mope around because something is difficult. The boy dislikes me. It doesn’t matter why. I can change that.
Gunner opens one side of a doublewide door. “Ladies first.”
Makenna and Kiley walk inside and I hold the door. “I have it,” I say to Gunner, so he and Ryder can go inside.
“I need to run in and get the carrots. I forgot to grab them. Can you get…” he looks up and pretends he doesn’t see Ryder. “I don’t know where Ryder is but there’s something stuck to the top of my hat.”
Ryder freezes and looks down, past the brim of Gunner’s cap. “Me,” he says, accompanied by a fluttery wave of his fingers in front of Gunner’s eyes.
“Oh, there you are! Well, I have to get the carrots so the horse won’t nibble our fingers. Let Aiden help you down. I’ll be back.”
“OK,” he says in such a sweet voice that I wonder if I’ve imagined the whole last hour of his standoffish behavior.
I gently lift him from Gunner’s shoulders—wanting to keep that gleeful expression on his face. The minute his feet touch the ground, he’s off like a racehorse into the barn and away from me.
The tyke couldn’t make it more clear.
I give a long-suffering sigh. “This is a test. That’s all it is. I got this. No problem.”
Gunner laughs and jogs away from me up to the cabin. Walking inside the barn, I search the interior. I’ve been inside one or twice, but it’s been a while.
A tractor and some large equipment are stored in half of the building. The other half of Gunner’s barn serves as a place for his two horses to shelter at night.
The winter weather is mild and the horses would usually be outside during the day, but he’s brought them inside for us. His stallion and new mare turn their heads toward me.
The girls stand in front of one stall, talking to the horses. Makenna holds Ryder on her hip. His hands fist her shirt as if she plans to throw him into a stall and leave him. He leans his cheek against her shoulder, his eyes wide and curious. He’s hesitant now and I understand. The horses must look enormous to him.
“The bigger one is Conan. The smaller gray one is Zelda,” I say, standing close to Makenna so I can talk to Ryder. Kiley walks to the barn door, looking up toward Gunner’s cabin.
“Conan and Zelda are happy to see you. I can tell.” I reach across and run my hand over Zelda’s muzzle. She whinnies and bobs her head. “You want to pet her?” I ask Ryder.
“No,” he says and clutches Makenna’s shirt tighter. “Don’t want.”
Gunner enters with a package of carrots. “Sorry that took so long. Here you go,” he says and rips open the bag. “Mak, take a couple.”
Ryder watches her, then takes the long carrots she offers and hands them to me. He’s happy to sacrifice me to the evil horse.
“You want me to do it?” I wait for him to answer. When he doesn’t, I smile and offer the carrot to Zelda, who immediately tugs the entire stick into her mouth and begins chomping loudly. Gunner hands me the bag before he and Kiley walk out the door. I suspect they’re trying to give us time alone.
Ryder’s mouth drops open. “Oh.”
I push more carrots through the hole in the plastic bag. “Want to feed him?”
This time, Ryder takes the carrot and holds it out a foot from Zelda’s mouth. The horse doesn’t hesitate in taking the offered treat and bobbing his head to facilitate getting the entire carrot inside.
Ryder covers his mouth with his hand and giggles. “He eats,” he says through his hand.
I glance at Makenna, my lips parting in amusement at Ryder’s obvious excitement.
She studies me for a minute. “Thank you.”
If a happy life can be reduced to ten second moving images, this time in the barn would make the cut to be stored in my box of best memories. My senses respond to the simple beauty of the scene: sunlight streaming in the windows and glinting off Makenna’s hair, Ryder’s small fingers reaching out to touch the coarse hair on Zelda’s muzzle, the smell of Makenna’s soap on her skin.
These two feel like they are already mine. It’s a dangerous feeling, so early in the relationship. But there are some things in my life I don’t question—the perfect workout track, the right career, my lifelong buddies.
And I have this same feeling today. It’s the clicking sound of pieces that fit together.
After feeding the horse several more carrots, Ryder wiggles in Makenna’s arms. “Down,” he demands.
“OK, OK.” She puts him on his feet. “Tired of feeding Zelda already?”
Zelda shifts in her stall, the sound of her clacking hooves echoes in the barn.
Ryder runs a couple of feet away from us and climbs onto a hay bale to sit like it’s his personal throne. He surveys Zelda and his kingdom from a safe distance.
Makenna turns to me. “I can’t thank you enough for this. He loves it. I wish we lived out in the country.”
“We can come back anytime.”
She wrinkles her forehead and looks away. “Sure.”
“I mean it. Gunner will tell you that.” I reach out with one finger and move her chin so she’ll make eye contact with me. “Something wrong?”
“No. Of course not. I just don’t want you to think you have to make me any promises. We’re here today and that’s great.”
I run my finger along her jaw until I reach her throat. Reaching around to clasp the back of her neck, I pull her toward me.
She closes her eyes and I kiss her lightly on the corner of her mouth, then move onto her full bottom lip. I tease her lips apart, my tongue darting into her inviting mouth.
Pulling her body to me, I kiss her like she’s mine. I kiss her to say this isn’t the last time. I kiss her to indulge in her mouth. Later, I promise myself, I’ll enjoy more than her mouth.
A scream pierces the air. Ryder. We break apart, near stumbling as we look around the barn. The hay bale is empty and he’s missing.
I shoot through the door, my heart slamming in my chest as I run toward the scream. How could he get away so quickly? We were only kissing for a minute or two.
I glance to the west of the barn where a series of wooden steps lead to Gunner’s fire pit. It’s the only place hidden from my view. I run faster in the direction of the steep steps.
Fuck. There’s less than a dozen steps cut into the sheer drop leading down t
he hill.
Ryder lies crumpled on the rocky ground at the bottom. He reminds me of a felled bird, fragile looking and still. I scrabble down the steps, almost losing my footing in my rush to get to him.
Dust whirls at the bottom when I leap onto the ground.
My chest seizes and everything amplifies. Blood pounds inside my ears like an ocean wave rolling in during a storm.
I drop to my knees and roll him over, place two fingers on his neck to check for a pulse and then rest my cheek to his mouth to feel for air.
Blood. So much blood. On his face and in his hair.
“He’s breathing.” My voice shakes. “He’s going to be OK,” I chant to myself.
“Ryder,” Makenna screams his name from the top of the steps and the pitch sounds like a punctured lung losing air.
“Careful,” I yell up to her and my voice sounds like someone else’s. Voices seem to come from a distance.
I glance downhill to see Gunner and Kiley beyond the fire pit and guess that Ryder had seen them and wanted to follow.
Makenna slides in next to me. Her hands shake when she grabs his sticklike arms. “Ryder. Baby.”
His eyelids pop open, and he begins crying. He reaches out for Makenna with both arms and she gathers him up.
“You’re going to be OK. It’s all right.” She rocks him as he wails.
“What happened?” Gunner asks.
Blood drizzles in streams down Ryder’s face.
“I guess he fell and it knocked the breath out of him.” I examine the cut along his forehead that looks deep. Ryder wails a little louder. If the wound were on my head, I’d probably just go inside and clean it up. But he seems so small and fragile. What if I do something wrong? “We should take him to the emergency room, to check him out and in case he needs stitches.” The words stick in my throat like a mouthful of sand.
Makenna holds him tight to her chest while she strokes the fine hair that falls in dark matted wet curls across his face. How is there so much blood?
Don’t panic. They need you to stay calm.
His cries punch into my chest. A horse whinnies near us. A feeling of helplessness washes over me as I put my hand on Ryder’s back.
“We need to get him checked,” I insist.
“Poor baby.” Kiley says, looking as helpless as I feel.
Makenna takes a deep breath as if she senses all our panic. “It scared him. Right, baby? Tell Mommy what hurts.”
Kiley gets down on her knees beside us. “Those steps are a doozy. I am so sorry we didn’t hear him coming. We should’ve been watching for him.”
Makenna kisses Ryder’s forehead. “It’s nobody’s fault. Right, Ry? Can you stand up? So I can check everything?”
Ryder whimpers and stands, but immediately stomps his feet. “No Mommy, No Mommy.”
This seems to be the wrong thing to do.
She touches his arm and he begins wailing again. “Arm hurt. Arm hurt,” he chokes out.
I inhale deeply and tell myself that kids cry a lot. They fall and get cuts and sometimes break bones. The last thought fills me with dread. What if his arm is broken?
Gunner touches me on the shoulder. “I think you’re right about the emergency room. We’ll follow you guys to the hospital.”
“You guys don’t have to do that.” Makenna lifts Ryder into her arms and walks up the hill.
Kiley matches her swift stride. “Sure we do. I know he’ll be OK, but we want to come.”
In minutes, we’re in the car and driving back to the city. Makenna sits in the backseat so she can be with Ryder. His cries downsize to sobs and sniffles. She croons to him the entire trip back to Nashville.
I’m in awe of Makenna’s calm exterior. Her voice is steady when she talks to him and sings. Our eyes meet and hold in the rear view mirror in a silent exchange of concern. I know she’s worried. But her calm exterior helps keep down the panic level I’m feeling.
I grip the steering harder. Did he hit his head hard enough for a concussion? The minute I think it, I scold myself. My brothers and I were always bleeding and bruised. It’s part of growing up, right?
Maybe I’m in over my head. Maybe this is a sign. Maybe I should back away now before I’m too attached.
“Do you think his dad needs to know?” I ask quietly. What if it’s something more than a cut and a bump? I’d want to know.
“Oh. Yeah.” She exhales and pulls out her phone and her thumbs move across the screen. “It’s probably nothing, right? I’ll tell him we’ll update him when we know.”
I park the car at the emergency entrance lot. “I can carry him if he’ll let me. There’s going to be paperwork that only you’ll be able to fill out.”
“Yeah. Good idea.” She unbuckles him from the seat. “Aiden’s going to help Mommy. He’s going to carry you.”
I reach inside and expect him to let off a bloodcurdling cry…but nothing. He reaches out his arms and lets me take him.
Nashville Memorial is crowded. We sit in the packed waiting room. I suppose you have to be bleeding out the eyes to be seen any faster. Gunner and Kiley look at magazines and try to avoid the sneezes of the man two chairs down. He seems to have plague-like symptoms and he’s waiting in line like the rest of us.
Surprisingly, Ryder insists on staying in my lap since Makenna can’t hold him and fill out the necessary paperwork at the same time. I like the trusting feel of his head against my chest. His hair is soft and tickles my chin. He presses his ear to me like he’s listening to my heartbeat.
He’s a thin kid. Small, breakable looking arms and legs. He seems so fragile. I take a steadying breath and pat his back.
I fully expect him to realize any minute that I’m the guy he doesn’t like. Makenna frowns at her phone screen.
“Everything OK?” I ask.
“It’s Jared. I told him not to come. He’s here.”
As if on cue, the automatic doors slide open and a guy enters. He’s flanked by two muscle-bound friends who walk toward us. His face reddens when he sees me.
He points at me but looks at Makenna and makes no effort to keep his voice low. “Who is he?”
Me or Ryder? I only question it for a moment. He and I make eye contact. What the hell?
“Jared,” Makenna says. “This is Aiden. Calm down. We’re waiting to get Ryder in to see someone.”
“I’m Jared Jameston,” the guy says. “Ryder’s dad.”
“Aiden Alesini.” I nod my chin at him. The guys—who must be bodyguards—wander off as if to give us all some privacy.
Jared Jameston. Huh. Everyone knows this guy’s name. Although I’m not really a fan since I don’t follow country music, I do know who he is. He’s even set to perform the Super Bowl half-time this year.
The nurses at the front desk look at Jared. One whispers to her co-workers and I wonder if they recognize him.
I remain calm. “He’s probably fine, but we wanted to check—”
Makenna shoots out of her chair. The metal chair legs scrape against the linoleum. “I told you not to come. Ryder is fine.” Her voice shakes and I sense she’s about to lose her temper.
I reach out and touch her arm. “Makenna.”
“She’s Mak,” he says in correction.
My gaze swings up to him. Asshole. I stare at him. I’m not about to get into a pissing contest in the emergency room.
“That’s my son,” he says with raised eyebrows. “I want to know what happened and if your boyfriend is responsible.”
I turn to Makenna. “Do you want me to go outside and talk to him about what happened before they throw us out?” I may have to kick his ass for accusing me, but I can do that out in the parking lot.
She glares at him. “You need to leave.”
Ryder sits quietly with his head against my chest. His eyes are wide as his gaze darts from his mother to Jared and back.
Jared looks at me instead of Makenna. “No. I’m not leaving Ryder.”
This isn’t fair to the lit
tle boy in my arms. He shouldn’t have to hear an argument that is more about his mother dating than about him getting hurt. I stand and Ryder clings a little tighter to my body, like a small monkey not phased that I’m moving around. “Makenna,” I say and turn to hand him to her.
The kid squeezes my neck. “No,” he says.
I see him as Jared must. Blood crusted on his face in spots missed by the washcloth. Blood-matted hair standing straight up from his forehead like it’s been gelled for a funky hairstyle.
He looks like he’s been brutally attacked.
I pat him on the back. “It’s fine. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait with you.”
There’s a room full of waiting patients who stare at us like we’re their reality TV. Jared looks around at them. “I’ll wait, too.” Then he finds a seat at the opposite end of the waiting room and sits with his arms folded over his chest. His bodyguards walk outside. I sense Jared’s gaze on me but ignore it.
I expect Ryder to balk and want his father. But he doesn’t.
Instead, Ryder tucks his head under my chin and says, “Horse? Where’s horse?”
It’s almost like he says it to himself or only for my ears. “Soon,” I say, and sit back down. “We’ll go back. I promise.”
“Sorry about Jared,” Makenna says.
“Nothing to be sorry about.” I smile at her and then at Ryder.
Ryder nods in satisfaction and crawls over to his mother’s lap where he entertains himself with twirling strands of her long hair. He sings softly to himself and I can’t make out the words.
I watch this child, so trusting of me now. So in love with his mother.
I know the feeling.
I freeze at the thought. Holy shit. Did I really just think that? Too soon, too soon, too soon.
Something happened today between us, something more than a simple date. Nonna always said it would happen in a flash—the recognition of two souls.
“Ryder Ross?” a nurse calls from the station.
Makenna looks up. “That’s us.”
She holds Ryder close to her chest, those legs wrapped around her waist, as she walks to the intake desk.
Ross? His last name isn’t Jameston. I’d assumed—even though she said they were never married—that Ryder would at least have his dad’s name. I glance over at the guy who still looks as angry as he did earlier.
