His to Claim

by Shelly Bell

  “I’m doing this for Maddox.” Finally, she met his eyes. They belonged to another woman. Not his Jane. Usually full of light and mirth, they were now cold and lifeless. “Maddox will always be your son. But right now, I can’t be with you. It’s too difficult.”

  Too difficult.

  He’d offered her everything and she was throwing it back in his face because it was too difficult. This wasn’t the woman he’d grown to know. There had to be something he was missing. “You’re in shock. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  She turned her head and stared off into the distance. “I’m not in shock. I’m doing what’s best.”

  “What’s best?” he repeated.

  What had changed? How could she suddenly decide that he wasn’t what was best for her and Maddox?

  He grabbed her face between his hands and forced her to look at him. “I love you, Jane.” Other than sucking in a breath, she gave no sign that she heard him. Or even cared. “I’ve been waiting for the right time to say it, but do you know what I learned tonight? There’s no such thing as the right time. Every second we have on this earth is precious and should never be wasted.” When she didn’t respond, he let go of her and stood. “But you know what else I learned?” He gave himself a long moment to soak up the image of Jane and Maddox, knowing it might be the last time he got the chance. “Love sucks.”

  She didn’t say a word as he turned and walked away.

  And that alone said it all.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Whoever said time heals all wounds was an idiot.

  It had been a month since Jane had seen or heard from Ryder.

  And she missed him more with every day that passed.

  Not less.

  She’d stumbled through the first few days like a zombie, going through the motions, but completely numb inside. If it weren’t for having to care for Maddox, she would’ve gotten into bed and stayed there. Instead, she packed up her apartment and made plans for a new life for them, one that didn’t include Ryder.

  She’d learned her lesson the hard way. It was much better to rely on herself than on others. That way she’d never be disappointed.

  Pushing Ryder away had been for the best.

  So why did her heart hurt so damned much? Why did she wake up in the middle of the night crying for him?

  Like everything else, the numbness didn’t last. As she and Maddox had boarded their plane for Florida, she’d been overcome with grief and regret. She was back in Michigan now and those feelings had only intensified.

  She’d dropped Maddox off at the daycare center so that she could go visit Dreama in the hospital. In the last month, Jane had only spoken with her once on the phone. She was slowly recovering, but it would be a long process.

  Jane ignored the nervous knots in her belly as she walked down the hallway of the hospital to Dreama’s room. Because of Ian, Dreama would never give birth to a child. Now that Dreama knew the truth about why she’d been attacked, would she blame Jane?

  Her fingers tightened around the plastic handle of the suitcase. She took a deep breath and entered the room.

  Dreama was sitting up in bed watching a reality television show about some housewives. Both her arms and legs were in full casts. The bruising on her face had gone from purple to yellow and the swelling was gone. She smiled at Jane, but it wasn’t the same smile Jane had come to know. It was less vibrant. Less enthusiastic. Less Dreama.

  “Hey, Chickie. Welcome back to Michigan. With this weather, bet you’re wondering why you didn’t stay in Florida.”

  That’s what their friendship had come to? Small talk about the weather?

  Setting the suitcase in the corner of the room, Jane didn’t respond. “I brought you some of your things. Some of your favorite pajamas. Your stuffed bear.” She turned to Dreama and tried not to blush. “And some of your other toys that you probably wouldn’t want your mom to have. Your parents have the rest of your things at their house.”

  Packing up Dreama’s sex toys had been eye opening. How many vibrators and dildos did one woman need?

  “Thanks,” Dreama said simply. The old Dreama would’ve made a joke about it. “How are you holding up?”

  Jane didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Dreama had spent the last month in the hospital, was facing months of physical therapy, and she was worried about Jane?

  Jane pulled the chair next to Dreama’s bedside and sat. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

  Dreama raised a brow. “You’ve never been a liar, so don’t start now. Just because I’m in this hospital bed doesn’t mean I’m not capable of being your friend. I know you, Jane. You’re not fine.”

  Her throat tightened. “No. I’m not fine. I’m a mess.”

  “You didn’t say much on the phone when we talked, but I got the rundown from Tristan about everything that happened and who was responsible for putting me in here.”

  Jane’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry—”

  “Stop,” Dreama said firmly. “It wasn’t your fault and I don’t blame you. Derek Gardner is dead and Ian Sinclair will spend the rest of his life behind bars. The guilty have been punished, and you’re not one of them, so stop taking on the sins of others.”

  She gave Dreama a half-hearted smile. “I’ll try.”

  Dreama didn’t pull any punches. “Tristan told me your mother saved your life.”

  “I miss her.” Jane couldn’t believe how much. “Which is weird, right? Because I never really knew her at all, did I? Now she’s gone. She never really hugged me. Did you know that? My mother took a bullet for me, but she never gave me a hug. And I can’t even visit her grave because she was cremated.” She shook her head. “I was so wrong about her. About so many things.”

  And people.

  “Just because Ciara’s not buried in some cemetery doesn’t mean you can’t talk to her,” Dreama said. “But I have to be honest. Once you became an adult, she could have established a relationship with you. Don’t turn her into a martyr. Ciara had flaws just like everyone else. We all have pieces inside of us that we keep hidden. So, yes, you were wrong about her. But that’s on her, not you.”

  Jane’s throat tightened. Unable to speak, she simply nodded.

  “How was your trip home to Florida?” Dreama asked, thankfully changing the subject.

  “It was nice. My aunt and uncle were thrilled to finally meet Maddox. And it was good to get some sunshine. I even took Maddox swimming.” She’d considered moving back. Tucking her tail between her legs and starting over again. Finding a new job. A new place to live. New friends. Then she realized she’d only be more miserable. “But it’s not my home. It hasn’t been for a long time.” She loved her aunt and uncle, but she’d never felt as if she belonged in their house. “I’m going to miss our home. I’m going to miss living with you.”

  “Aw, Chickie, I’m going to miss living with you too. But that apartment was never your home. It was just a place for you to live until you found your real home.”

  Jane’s heart beat a little faster. “And where’s that?”

  “Not where. Who.” Dreama turned off the television with a press of her finger on the remote. The room grew quiet. “Isabella told me you broke up with Ryder.”

  “It was for the best,” she said automatically. How many times had she said those words this past month? “We would have never worked out in the long run.”

  “Huh. I never thought of you as a coward.”

  “What? I’m not a coward.”

  Dreama eyes flashed with annoyance. “Then stop acting like one.”

  If only it was that easy.

  “What if I’m wrong about him?” Jane asked, her voice as weak as she felt inside. “Like I was about Keane. And Ian. And my mom. I’m a terrible judge of character.”

  Dreama huffed. “I take offense to that.”

  “I obviously didn’t mean you.”

  “Well, why not?” Dreama’s lips were tilted up. “Come on. If you were
wrong about them, you must be wrong about me.”

  “No. That’s not true. You’re the kindest, most generous person I’ve ever known.”

  A full smile bloomed. “Thank you. So, if you were right about me, why couldn’t you have been right about Ryder?”

  Inside, she knew Dreama was right.

  About everything.

  Jane had been a coward.

  But it didn’t matter.

  “He didn’t fight for me,” Jane whispered.

  “What?” Dreama asked.

  “I might have pushed him away, but he let me.” The truth of that hurt more than she could say. “That’s how I know I made the right decision. After that first night, he never even tried to change my mind.”

  * * *

  Ryder swatted at whatever was hitting his face.

  Water.

  Was it raining in his house or had he fallen asleep outside? Last he remembered, he’d taken refuge on the couch. For some reason, it was the only part of the house that didn’t make him automatically think of Jane.

  He opened one eye. That’s all he could manage. Isabella was standing over him with a spray bottle in her hand.

  “It smells in here.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “When was the last time you showered?”

  “What day is it?” he asked, his voice raspy from non-use.

  And bourbon.

  Lots and lots of bourbon.

  “Tuesday.”

  He threw his arm over his eyes to keep the sun out. Damn woman must have pulled back all the curtains. “What month?”

  “Jesus, Ryder. You look like shit.”

  Oh good. Tristan was there as well. He should’ve never given the bastard a key to his house. Ryder flipped to his side on the couch and spoke into the cushions, so the sound of his voice wouldn’t reverberate in his head so much. “If I cared, I’d really appreciate your opinion. But I don’t. Now get out.”

  A soft hand rolled him over onto his back.

  “Can’t,” said Isabella. “We’re all here for an intervention.”

  “All?”

  “Hello, Ryder,” Isaac said from across the room.

  Hail, hail. The gang’s all here.

  “Isaac.” Ryder was in no shape to deal with this at the moment, but at the same time, he wasn’t in shape to fight them either. He was fucked. “What are you doing here?”

  “You haven’t been to work in a month and haven’t returned any phone calls,” Isaac said.

  “I’m fine,” Ryder said.

  He almost believed his own words.

  Except he hadn’t been fine since Jane had broken up with him. The copious amounts of alcohol he’d drunk this past month had done little more than pickle his liver. Every day—hell, every second—he spent without Jane and Maddox was pure torture.

  Even learning that Ian had pled guilty and would be serving life in prison hadn’t helped. Charged with federal and state crimes, he’d landed under the jurisdiction of the federal court, which, despite the crimes having occurred in Michigan, allowed for the death penalty. In exchange for a life in prison, he’d listed out his numerous crimes. He’d admitted to ordering Gardner to get rid of all loose ends, including Evan and Barbara.

  Gardner had also been responsible for Dreama’s beating, although Ian swore he’d had nothing to do with that. Ryder didn’t believe him. Why else had Ian been at the community center but to ensure Jane didn’t return home too early? Too bad Gardner hadn’t anticipated becoming a loose end himself on the other side of Sinclair’s gun.

  Because Ryder would have loved to have had the chance to kill him.

  Novateur sold the patent for the autonomous software to the U.S. Army for a mere dollar. He hoped to God they used it wisely. But it wasn’t his burden anymore.

  “You’re not fine,” Isabella said sweetly. If she hadn’t been spraying him with water, he almost wouldn’t mind her being there. “It’s ten in the morning and you’re already drunk.”

  Ryder rolled back over onto his side, completely done with their conversation. Nothing they could say or do would help, so what was the point? “I’ll have you know, I am not drunk. I have a serious case of the fuck yous.”

  The next thing he knew, he was hoisted off the couch and dragged by Tristan and Isaac toward the bathroom. “What the fuck? What are you doing? Let me go!”

  They shoved him into the disaster area formerly known as his bathroom and, from the hallway, blocked the door.

  “Take a shower,” Tristan ordered. “Brush your teeth. Put on some damned deodorant. Then put on some clean clothes and meet us in the kitchen. You’ve got fifteen minutes.”

  “And if I don’t?” he challenged.

  Isaac glared at him. “I have some contacts at the hospital. Maybe a seventy-two-hour psychiatric hold might do the trick.”

  Ryder didn’t doubt he’d do it. “Assholes,” he muttered, slamming the door in their smug faces.

  When he caught his reflection in the mirror, he didn’t recognize the wreck staring back at him. His brown hair was a shaggy, tangled mess and his eyes completely bloodshot. He had a full beard, and not one of those well-kempt ones. He looked like someone who lived out in the middle of the woods, spending his days writing a manifesto.

  This wasn’t him.

  No matter how much his heart ached over his loss, he was still Maddox’s father. He needed to be a role model for him. Whether he was in his life or not.

  It took Ryder more than fifteen minutes to return to the land of the living, but thankfully, no one in the house bothered him. After an hour of scrubbing, shaving, trimming, and brushing, he went to his bedroom and changed into some clothes. Clean ones.

  The smell of bacon taunted him into the kitchen.

  His three friends sat around the table, patiently waiting for him. In front of the one free chair was a pile of bacon and a bagel topped with a thick layer of cream cheese.

  “Here.” Isabella patted the seat and gestured with her chin toward his plate. “Eat.”

  He sat and picked up a piece of bacon. “Where did this come from?”

  Isabella’s brows dipped together. “The freezer. When was the last time you ate?”

  “Other than pizza and wings?” Ryder had a standing order at the corner chain pizza place. Every night, the same kid delivered to the house a small sausage and mushroom pizza and an order of wings.

  Isaac harrumphed. “More like vodka and bourbon.”

  Ryder ignored him, too busy shoveling the bacon into his mouth.

  “Better?” Isabella asked softly.

  He nodded. “Thank you.”

  Isabella leaned forward and inspected him closely. “I was at the hospital earlier visiting Dreama and ran into Jane.”

  He choked on his bite of bagel. After taking a sip of water, he responded. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Isabella pursed her mouth. “She mentioned something about you being a stubborn prick.”

  His jaw dropped. “She said that? She’s the one who told me she needed time.”

  “Actually she said she hadn’t seen you in a month, and I just read between the lines,” Isabella quipped.

  Tristan chimed in. “Why the hell are you lying around the house drunk off your ass instead of going after her?”

  They were blaming him for ruining their relationship? He’d done everything to show her he was in it for the long haul and she’d rejected him.

  “I was just giving her the space she asked for.” Ryder pushed his plate away, no longer hungry. “Besides, maybe she was right and they’re better off without me.”

  He’d had nothing but time to think about everything that had happened with his father and Finn.

  Seeming to be having a silent conversation, his three friends shot glances at each other.

  Isaac interlaced the fingers of both hands and sat forward in his chair. “Why do you believe that, Ryder? Is this because of your father?”

  Oh great. Apparently, it was time for him to be psychoanalyzed,
with Isaac playing the role of Sigmund Freud.

  “It’s because it’s true. The McKay men are cursed. My father lost my mother when she died in childbirth, Finn lost Ciara to a bullet, and I lost Jane because…hell, I still don’t even know. If she’s not willing to take the risk, then why should I?”

  “You’re letting her go because you’re scared,” Isaac said as if it was obvious. “You and Jane both are. It’s easier for you both to end things now than to live every day knowing that something might take you from one another in the blink of an eye. But when we love someone, we take that risk.”

  He narrowed his eyes at Isaac. “You saying I don’t love them?”

  “Do you?”

  “Fuck yes, I love them.” He stood and paced the length of the kitchen. “It’s killing me to be apart from them. I was willing to take the risk. She’s the one who ended it.”

  Isaac stood and strode over to him. “Jane is a strong woman who has never in her life had a single person fight for her.” Grabbing Ryder by the arms, Isaac shook him. “Fight for her, Ryder. Show her that there’s nothing she can do that will ever cause you to leave.”

  “You should know, she quit her job at McKay,” Isabella said. “With Dreama in rehab for the next several months, she decided to move back to Florida.”

  She was leaving? “Shit. When?” he asked.

  Isabella played with the ends of her hair, winding it around her fingers. “I got the feeling the move was imminent. Jane mentioned something about her car being all packed.”

  “I have to stop her,” Ryder said, looking at his friends for help. “I can’t let them go.”

  Tristan smiled up at him and said the obvious. “Then what are you waiting for?”

  TWENTY-NINE

  Sitting on the floor of her living room folding laundry, Jane tried not to look at her surroundings. She hated her new one-bedroom apartment. She hated the brown shag carpet. She hated the yellowish painted walls. She hated the outdated avocado-colored appliances.

  But it was home.

  For now.

  Jane snapped her head up at the sound of a knock on her door. She got off the floor and went to it. “Coming.” Before opening the door, she peered through the peephole.