“Even Savannah?” he asks with a touch of amusement. But I don’t have it in me to joke.
“I’d walk there if I had to,” I tell him in all seriousness. “I’d march down Calhoun Square and up the steps of Forsyth to get to you if need be.”
And somehow I know I would find the strength to do so when he rolls to his back, buries his head in my shoulder, and finally cries.
* * *
Hours later in bed, Ry’s clinging to me as he dozes. Nightmares chase him where I can’t go. This is precisely what I fear. As the day went on, he quietly became more distant as we got ready for bed.
My mind is too full to relax even though it might be the last time I get any real rest until he comes home. Instead, it’s my turn to stare up at the coffered ceiling. I need to take my pain and anger out on my characters, but only the realization that I’ll wake Ry keeps me from slipping from bed to do just that. I’m practically vibrating with my fury, but harnessing my energy to heal Ry? That’s what matters now, I think firmly.
With that, I begin to tremble; Ry knows how I feel. The real challenge is going to be transforming his perspectives about himself.
Because if he doesn’t understand that none of this was his fault, I fear he’ll never be free from the pain licking at his soul.
Chapter 41
Kelsey
“Have you heard from Ry today?” Lisa asks me as we’re standing in the kitchen.
“Not today. Have you?”
She shakes her head. “With today being the day the movers were bringing in the big items, I expected him to call or text you.”
I did too, but Lisa also doesn’t know Ry’s been struggling more and more every day he’s facing not only Logan’s—John’s grandson—future but his own past. I can hear the weariness and the struggle growing every night while we talk. A large part of our conversations center around him unburdening himself by telling me in detail about how the progress Logan’s made, which is little.
Just before the car came to pick him up for the airport three weeks ago, he pulled the key off his ring and pressed it into my hand.
“I love you. And if the mistakes I’ve made over the last few weeks have taught me anything, it’s that I can’t live without you in my life.” Leaning down, he laid his lips on mine. “You may have to be patient with me, Kels, but I need to know you’re here, in my life, my home, my heart, when I get back.” Without giving me a chance to throw my arms around him to give him my unequivocal “Yes,” he brushed his lips over mine once more before racing out the door.
And our conversations since haven’t offered up the right moment to bring up the fact that with his sister’s help, and Angel’s amused supervision, my life has stopped spanning two homes and has fully settled into one. Lisa and I went over to my storage unit last weekend to take a look at my furniture to see what should be kept and what can be saved to be donated for the Le Cadeau annual fund-raiser. “Oh, God, look at this desk. We’ve got to find a way to get this back to the house,” Lisa whispered as she stripped the plastic off my custom-built mahogany desk. “It would look perfect in the loft upstairs.” Then she turned to me and begged, “Tell me this is where you wrote Betrayal.”
I smirked before shaking my head. “Do you think I had the money for this desk when I wrote Betrayal? I wrote it while sitting at my dining room table thinking about your brother. Disappointed?”
“Only if you tell me that table isn’t in here.”
“It’s in the back.”
“Thank God.” We both laugh before I tell her, “I did write Forgotten at it though.”
“Save me. I might bring Cade over to kiss me on it.”
“Ew.” I raised a brow at her as her fingers trailed over the scrolling inlay reverently. “But speaking of that, won’t having this monster around impede your living space?”
Lisa blushed hard. “Not when I tell you that Cade asked me to move in with him.”
“Holy crap, Lisa.” I reached for her and hugged her hard. “I take it you said yes.”
“It took him a while to convince me,” she said almost proudly.
I frowned. “When did he first ask you?”
“About a week after we started dating.” And simultaneously, we both burst into laughter. Wiping her eyes with the ends of her shirt, she looked up at me and asked, “Why do you think you and Ry had so much privacy at the house? Cade called it a test run.”
“So, you’re ready.”
“Beyond. There were things I knew he was keeping from me. Now? I know everything I need to.” A serene look crossed her face. “And judging by the fact we’re in here picking out furniture, I’m guessing you feel the same way.”
I opened my mouth and closed it. Ry secrets are his to tell or share. “I guess homes have a way of letting people know when they’re ready for them,” I said diplomatically.
“And so do men’s hearts,” she agreed.
Now, the movers have just left, and we’re both hanging around trying to find space for kitchen gadgets. “If Ry were to walk in the door right now, he’d have a coronary his kitchen isn’t in perfect order,” I mutter as I bend over trying to find a spot for my nifty Rachel Ray box mandoline.
When I stand, it’s to find the feminine version of the eyes I love smiling at me. “No, he wouldn’t. He’d be grateful.”
God, I hope so, I think to myself. “Is it too much to wish that kitchens have magical powers to absorb all your gadgets and spit them out when you need them?”
Lisa still laughing at me when I hear my phone ring amid the mess on the counter with Ry’s distinctive Dave Matthews ringtone. “Shit. I can’t find it! Can you get to it on your side?” I laugh.
Lisa scans the counter before snatching it up. Quickly answering before it goes to voicemail, she says, “Hey, big brother.” Then a pause. “Nope, we’re rearranging things in the kitchen.” There’s a smirk before she says, “Ask Kelsey. Here.” She holds out the phone to me. “Someone tall, dark, and dare I say handsome since we look alike wants to talk with you.”
Snatching my phone out of her hands, I breathlessly greet him. “Hey.”
“What’s this about the kitchen? What was wrong with it before?” He sounds bewildered and lost.
Twirling a thick strand of hair around my finger, I turn away from Lisa. “Well, I decided to put all my energy from missing you to good use.”
I hear him sink back into the chair he said on an earlier call was in his room. “Really? How’s that?”
Only slightly anxious, I bite my lip. “Maybe I misunderstood…”
“You didn’t,” Lisa calls out. I wave my hand to hush her.
“But, you did say you wanted me in your home when you got home.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line. “I meant to be waiting for me,” he starts.
“Oh.” Crap. “I can…”
“Because I was going to do something more than act like a complete jackass before I asked you to move in. Now, how am I supposed to top you reading my mind?” His voice is filled with tenderness as he continues to talk right over me.
“I’m sure you’ll figure out a way,” I blurt out.
“I’m going to have to. Kels?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t give a crap what the house looks like as long as you’re in it. But tell me you’re not lifting any heavy furniture, or I will get pissed.”
After I reassure him that no backs were injured in the course of moving me in, Ry turns into his new quiet while I prattle on about where things are in the kitchen. It isn’t until I mention my desk being upstairs that he asks, “What about Lisa?”
That’s when I take great delight in sharing, “Well, the movers were great about moving her to Cade’s.”
Ry spews whatever he’s drinking on the other end of the line. “Jesus.”
“I only heard about it the other day. I would have thought he would have told you.” The dirty look I shoot Lisa is positively worthless.
“T
hat might explain the eight or so voicemails I haven’t listened to yet. I suppose I should call him back if only to warn him about her cooking.”
“Somehow, I don’t think he asked her to move in for her cooking ability.”
Lisa concurs, “Or lack thereof. I have other things he cares about.”
Ry groans in my ear. “I did not need to hear about that.”
I let out a throaty laugh. He sighs. “Prettiest sound in the world, sweetheart.”
Trying to be as circumspect as possible, I turn my back and lower my voice. “How are things there?”
“Slow, Kels. Logan isn’t mature enough to get past the insecurity of going to a psychologist—which he desperately needs. The things he’s shared? Let’s say what I told you was nothing in comparison to what this boy went through.”
A soundless whistle escapes through my clenched teeth. “Do you feel like being there is helping?”
“It’s helping John,” he tells me honestly.
“Then that has to be easing the hurt some,” I say diplomatically.
There’s a long pause before Ry whispers, “The only thing that’s going to ease the pain is having you next to me again, my love.”
I inhale deeply. “Ry.”
“No one warned me it would be like this,” he says almost conversationally.
“Like what?” I try to keep them at bay, but the stinging tears are like little pins behind my closed lids.
“That knowing we’re wasting precious time in a lifetime that’s been cut too short already. Every time I hear your voice, it reminds me I want nothing more than to have you by my side. I love you, Kelsey.”
The stinging has resulted in salty liquid sliding down my cheeks at a hot, furious pace. So, I’m not surprised when my breath hitches when I whisper, “I love you too.”
“Thank you for being patient with me.”
“Always.”
And before I can say another word, Ry’s hung up the phone. Slowly, I pull mine from my ear before turning to Lisa, who’s unabashedly listening in. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Anything.”
“Think you’d mind cleaning up the kitchen on your own? I have to call and book a flight before I pack a bag to get to Ry.”
Lisa comes around the counter to wrap her arms around me. “That’s not a favor; that’s my honor.”
And suddenly all I can think about as I race down the hall to Ry’s—no, our room—is that I need to get to him as soon as possible. In reality, I should have been there weeks ago, but I thought he needed the time to get through this on his own. After quickly booking a flight on my phone and calling out the details to Lisa, I grab one of the suitcases I recently unpacked and begin to throw clothes back into it. I realize it’s likely because of our past that Ry didn’t ask me to come with him to begin with.
So, either way, we’ve both been idiots, because the things that happened in our pasts are simply the tools we needed to make us stronger, more patient, and courageous in the face of our future.
Together.
I call out to Lisa, “Do you have time to drive me, or should I call a car?”
A tall figure appears in the doorway, startling me. “Is that all you’re bringing?” Cade asks.
“No,” I tell him tartly. “I need to get another bag and my computer.”
“Right. I’ll just put this one in the car. Lisa’s…”
“Right here. I just got off the phone with my dad. He had to know you were coming so he could call the gate to let your cab in,” Lisa tells me apologetically.
I nod distractedly as I toss shoes into a weekender.
“Dad said to pack a dress, Kels. You can’t get into the club for dinner without one.”
“You pick.” I straighten from the floor of the closet. “I need to get my laptop.”
“Right,” she agrees. “I’ll finish in here.”
“You’ve got—” Cade checks his watch. “We only have a few minutes before we have to leave if you want to make that flight,” he warns.
Right. Without any warning, I dash out of the room, leaving Lisa to finish throwing anything that resembles clothes in my bag. The laptop is a priority; anything else can be purchased.
The most important thing is to get to Ry.
Chapter 42
Rierson
Hanging up the phone, I rub my fingers across my lips. So many things haunt me, including how much my heart aches for the woman on the other end of the line. “Only a few more weeks, my love,” I whisper.
I think about the changes I’ve helped guide John and his family through. There were none as significant as when Logan, anxious as fuck and backed by his grandparents, held out a shaking hand to me saying, “Thank you. I wouldn’t have known where to start to try to make them understand.”
I shook his hand firmly but released it quickly so he could retreat to the safety of his grandfather’s arms. “If we’re fortunate, they’ll never be able to understand, only to support us with all of their unconditional love.”
A weary maturity settled on Logan’s face—the very look I used to see in the mirror until a victim of a different sort showed me how to search my soul for the freeing words. She taught me to describe the love of something that wasn’t theirs to take—though none of it was—and by forcing me to dig deep, I took it back and found a pathway to a future I might never have traveled down otherwise.
A knock startles me. I give my father a semblance of a smile. “What’s up, Dad?”
“Your mother’s in a tizzy.” My bark of laughter surprises me and he takes it as an invite to join me in my suite of rooms.
“Why?” I ask curiously
“Something about an unexpected dinner guest.” He waves his hand, dismissing the topic. Knowing my mother, that could be a neighbor to the governor of the state of Georgia, so I leave the comment alone. He continues. “I just came to see how you’re holding up after today.”
“With Logan?” He nods. I take a deep breath. “I can’t say seeing his devastation isn’t bringing up bad memories I thought I had moved past.”
“And nightmares.” At my startled jerk, he shakes his head. “Son, despite your age, I wouldn’t be your father if I didn’t check on you every night you’re under my roof. One day when you’re a parent, you’ll understand.”
“Understand?” I parrot back almost automatically as my mind thinks of Kelsey’s beautiful body ripe with our child. A million feelings rip through me, none of which is fear.
“You’ll get it one day if you ever have children,” he assures me with a grin.
Still in a state of shock, I stumble when I tell him, “If you’d have asked me a year ago—hell, six months ago—I’d have said I might find the right woman when hell freezes over.”
“And now?”
“Now, I ache because I can’t hold her.” Sitting back, I wonder, “How is it possible for me to love her so quickly?”
“Maybe, son, because you started to fall when you were seventeen. Life’s natural road blocks only slowed the fall, but it never stopped,” my father tells me sagely.
I think in the comfortable silence for a few minutes before nodding. “You’re right.”
“Want to say that again?” he jokes. I throw a toss pillow his way. “Better get this room cleaned up before your mother sees it,” he warns.
I groan. Since I no longer live here, my parents transformed the shrine of my teenage years into a well-appointed suite. The only thing I take pleasure in teasing my mother about is there’s no basket awaiting my dirty clothes. She retorted, “It’s a guest suite, not your permanent residence. Bring the clothes downstairs yourself.”
My response is to pile them up in a corner and bring them down to wash when I’m close to running out. “There are times when being at home makes me feel about twelve,” I complain.
My father shrugs, all sympathy erased from eyes as blue as my own. “I just figured you’d want to not look like a slob by the time Kelsey gets here later.” Pushing
away from the door, he disappears from view.
Shaking my head vigorously, I shove myself out of the chair. I must be hearing things. “Dad?” I call out as I dash out on bare feet to catch up with him. He’s already made it to the stairwell and is partway down. “Did you just say…”
“If her flight lands on time, I expect her here before dinner, son.” Giving me a critical once-over, he tacks on, “A shower wouldn’t be remiss in this situation either.”
“She’s coming?” I feel like I barely breathe the words. She swore she’d never come back to this place that left such scars on her soul.
“From what your sister said when she asked me to call her into the gates, she’s hell-bent on getting to your side.”
The warmth I’ve been missing since I left New Orleans—no, even before that—starts to fill me up. She’s coming to me. She isn’t leaving me alone to deal with this pain, wondering if when I go back if everything’s going to be okay.
She’s making sure it will be.
Somehow, I didn’t just find the love of my life; I found the person who will willingly follow me into hell to save me. And she’d better know I’d do the same for her. “Dad?”
“Yes, Ry?”
“While Mom’s spinning around in a dither, do you think you can do me a favor?”
“Anything, son. Just ask.”
“Can you get Grandmother’s ring out of the safe? I want to bring it back with me.” The solitaire my grandmother wore for more than fifty years on her hand was passed down to me to give the woman I love when I proposed. While we’re not ready for that, I want it with me so I know when the time is right, there’s no delay.
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