by Lauren Helms
Him not being here makes my heart hurt.
Two women come into the restroom, both chattering away, happy as can be. They both glance at me, smiling at me through the wall-length mirror. I force a smile back and turn off the water, drying off my hands. It's time to get back out there.
Suck it up, buttercup, I tell myself as I push out the door of the restroom.
My heart races when I'm greeted with a familiar pair of eyes. He's leaning against the opposite wall with his hands in his pockets. He's wearing a dark navy suit with a white button-up shirt. His tie is skinny and matches the suit. I drink him in but can't help wondering what he's doing here. My eyes travel up his body, chest, and then land on his face. He's freshly shaved, no five o'clock shadow in sight. His hair is a bit on the shaggy side, but it suits him.
His chocolate brown eyes are intense as they stare me down. I had stopped walking, so I force myself to take a few steps toward him. Forcing myself not to run into his arms hurts more than I expected. I've been worried sick about him, but also mad as hell. I didn't expect to want to fling myself into his arms at my first sight of him in two weeks.
"Blondie, you look... you look absolutely stunning." His voice, while music to my soul, forges time into hooks and draws me to him.
"Ryker. You're here," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. Tears prick at the back of my eyes, but I fight against them.
"Want to come a little closer? You're kind of blocking the hallway." Laughter dances in his eyes, and I snap my head to the side. A few couples try to make their way around us.
I mutter an apology and walk closer to Ryker. He starts to reach for me but drops his hand at my subtle head shake. I need answers, and I won't be able to think straight if he's touching me.
"Where have you been, Ryker?" I gather my courage and fight through my desire to jump him right here and now.
"It's a long story." He smiles sadly.
"I've got time."
"Do you want to do this somewhere else? Maybe later? After a dance or two?" He doesn't look like he's trying to get out of explaining. He’s facing me, I hold all of his attention, and he has all of mine. So I don't miss his hand ball into a fist after he starts to reach for me.
My eyes dart around the hallway right outside the restroom, which isn't the best place for a reunion and interrogation.
Without hesitation, he grabs my hand and pulls me behind him back toward The Glass Room. I follow on his heels, but he doesn't stop when we get to the giant double doors, he keeps walking. The hallway is relatively empty, but we walk just a bit further until there are no other people within earshot.
Coming to a stop, I drop his hand. Control, I need to keep it, and I cross my arms across my chest and ask again, "Where have you been?”
He nods, readying himself for his explanation.
"Before I start, please know I can't tell you everything, but I will not lie to you. I'll tell you everything I possibly can, but I might not be able to share every detail." He's more serious than I've ever seen him. Suddenly, I'm scared for him, and my relief at him being here morphs into worry.
I nod; concern must show all over my face because he lifts his hand and gently strokes his thumb down my cheek.
"Blondie, it's okay. Everything fine now."
I bite back a whimper, from both his words and his touch.
"Right before you asked me to help you find your parents, I was contacted for a job. It was big. Huge! The payout was more than I've ever received, but the risk was just as big. This job was different than anything I've done before, and I didn't know if I wanted to go down that road, but after I started working on finding Fred and Anna, I decided I wasn't interested in the other job, so I turned it down. Well, fast forward to the day we got back from our trip to Texas, the reason why Wells was trying to get a hold of me was because the Feds were looking for me."
I gasp.
Then he launches into what happened and why he couldn’t reach out to me.
“I asked my uncle to reach out to Wells to let you all know I was fine, but I'm starting to think it was never relayed to you."
I shake my head. "No, it sure wasn’t."
He mutters a swear under his breath. He reaches for my hand and clasps it in his own. "Zella, I tried to contact you so many times, but I wasn't allowed. It killed me nearly every day. I couldn't talk to you, and not knowing if you knew drove me fucking insane."
Tears threaten to fall, but I hold them back. Looking up into his face, I ask what's been gnawing at the back of my mind. "Were you in jail?"
He gives me a half-smile. "No, but it sure as hell felt like it. After a few days, after they had proof I didn't fuck up this hack job, they admitted they never thought it was me, but wanted to get as much information as they could. They also wanted me to help them take down the organization that was behind the job. They held the fact that they knew all about my past jobs over my head, gave me no choice really, but I helped. They kept me under lock and key while I worked with their guys to identify the players. Once that was done, I was free to go."
"What about all the past jobs? What happens now that they know what you've been up to?"
He chuckles. "Apparently, they've wiped my slate clean. Told me to stay out of trouble."
I think about everything he just shared. It's crazy and doesn't feel real, but I know crazier things happen in this world. I know he wouldn't lie to me.
"That all sounds too easy." I mean, the Feds just letting him walk away?
"Yeah, tell me about it. But what I did, helping them bring down a crime organization, it wasn't easy, took a lot of work, and a deal is a deal." He shrugs.
I stare up at him, still processing everything.
He looks down at me with hope-filled eyes. His voice low and guttural. "Blondie."
I open my mouth to tell him the truth—what I went through without knowing where he was, if he was safe or hurt—when I hear my name from down the hall.
"Zella, come on girlfriend, you're missing the ball." Cameron walks toward us as he speaks. He nods at Ryker, like he isn't surprised he's here. "You've been looking forward to this thing for a month. Your man's here. There's time for talking later; it's dancing time now, baby." He smiles wide, and it's contagious.
Next to me, Ryker chuckles. The sound soothes my soul.
"All right, you've got a point," I tell Cam, but turn to Ryker, holding out my hand. "Come on. You owe me some dances." I smile up at him, and for the first time tonight, he looks utterly relieved. Maybe things are going to be alright. He grabs on tight, and we walk hand in hand into The Glass Room.
Surprisingly, Ryker leads us out onto the dance floor, just as the DJ starts playing a slow song. He pulls me into him without missing a beat. I wrap my arm around his shoulder, and he takes my other hand in his and places them on his chest.
"Blondie, I heard the heels, but how are you still so short?" He laughs, and I just smile softly and lean into him. Truth is, I've got on three-inch heels. He's right, I'm still short, but he's not that much taller now.
We dance in silence for several minutes, and as if the DJ knows we need more time, the song flows right into another.
"Blondie." My name vibrates through my body; we stand so close. I pull back slightly and look up at him. "The past two weeks have been hell without you. You are all I've thought about. I've craved you, missed you—wanted you so fucking badly."
My heart hammers in my chest at his words.
"The conversation we had in the car, on the way home, I still mean it all. You and me. I don't ever want to be apart from you again. Please tell me I'm not too late."
I blink back tears. "Ryker, I fell for you the moment you showed up in my tower. I've craved you, missed you, and wanted you so much too. I've been a wreck. Between worried out of my mind and mad as hell, one thing remained consistent."
He leans down and presses his cheek to mine. His warm breath in my ear. "What was that, Blondie?"
"That I love you and just wanted
your arms around me," I whisper.
I know he hears me. He turns his head slightly, so we are nose to nose. His breath now tangled with mine. "I love you too, Zella." He lingers as I let out a shaky sigh, and then he kisses me.
Epilogue
Three months later
Ryker
"Oh, my God. I can't do it," Zella cries from the passenger seat.
"Blondie, you promised," I tell her.
She sighs and slumps back in the seat, covering her face with her hands. I can barely make out her muffled words, but I've become a bit of an expert when it comes to Zella Raps over the past few months.
"I'm sorry, did you say you were freaking out because you were scared?" I tease, she might be freaking out, but my girl is not scared.
Her hands drop from her face, and I'm greeted with the most beautiful glare. "I'm not ducking scared, and you know it."
I chuckle at her use of the word, ducking. Collectively, Cam, Wells, and I have been trying to expand her vocabulary to include more unsavory words. She's hard to break though. Using similar words in place of the ones that make her blush. For example, saying duck instead of fuck. It's cute. It's also a step in the right direction, but then again, I wouldn't change a thing about her.
I toss my hands up in surrender. "My bad. But you do have an appointment, and you're now two minutes late."
She hangs her head. "Blah! Fine, I'm going." Her head shoots up, and she points a finger at me. "If I look like a monster when this is all said and done— so help me— if you laugh, I'm cutting you off."
I grin because she might not be able to swear but damn she's a sex kitten. She wouldn't be able to handle cutting me off.
I wink at her. "Right, Blondie."
She pushes out of the car. "Ugh. Fine."
"I'll be back in two hours," I yell behind her as she slams the door. I chuckle as I watch her disappear into the hair salon.
I pull away from the salon and head to a coffeehouse nearby. I'm going to get caught up on some homework. I'm working with one of the professors on campus to create a computer coding camp for younger kids. I've stayed true to my agreement with the Feds and kept my nose clean. Well, for the most part, but nothing that would have them come knocking.
With Zella's encouragement, I reached out to the head of the Computer Technologies Department and explained my skill set and asked for help putting on that proverbial white hat. Together, we created a career path and were able to map out my last three semesters of course work. Once I graduate, I'm going to look into becoming an Information Security Analyst. Professor Evans, the department head, said there are companies out there that hire hackers to bring down their systems only to show them how to build up their security. It sounds right up my alley.
I'm excited to have a chance to work with kids and teens and help them learn to code and Internet safety. We have our first run at the camp during spring break in a few weeks, and if it goes well, it could be a summer program.
Sitting at a small table in the corner of the shop, I set up my laptop and pull up a study guide for an ethics class. Not sure why everyone who finds out about me being in an ethics class thinks it's a good idea. I'm not some petty thief.
I get lost in my reading and highlighting when my phone buzzes. I pull it out of my pocket and swipe open the text from Wells.
Wells: We still on for a double date tonight? Louisa says they want to go bowling. You know anything about this?
Me: Yeah, it's on Zella's list. You ready to be beat by girls, man?
Wells: Shit. You know I hate bowling.
I chuckle because the dude sucks at bowling. Wells and I have gotten along a lot better these days. He still walks the straight and narrow, but we agree to disagree, and that's okay. We actually enjoy being around each other again. I gotta say, I missed the guy.
Louisa and Zella have become pretty close. Cameron likes to whine that she's replaced him as her best friend. Zella laughs, tells Cameron that's never going to happen, and that seems to satisfy him. Though, when she's not looking, I make it a point to let him know I'm her number one. It's fun fucking with him. He's a good guy, and we tolerate each other more often than not.
I'm a little early, but I can't focus on this ethics shit, it's enough for one day. So I pack up my stuff and head back to the salon. About twenty minutes later, there's a tiny tap on the window. My head snaps up, and I look out my window.
I'm stunned to silence. A beautiful, tiny pixie stands next to my door with a huge smile on her face. I take her in— her green eyes, freckled nose, her kissable pink lips. Finally, to the bouncy, short, softly curled blonde hair.
I roll down my window, a smile plastered on my face. "Hey there, little lady. I've got a girlfriend, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her."
"Ryker, you're a handful." She giggles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
I reach out and run my hand through her light locks. Soft pinks and purple hues randomly streak through her beach blonde hair.
"It's incredibly fitting." I can't pull my eyes from how it looks flowing through my fingers.
"I know, it's everything I never knew I wanted," she sings.
"How much did they cut off? How do you feel?" I wonder how much she'll love having so much less hair now.
"Twelve inches. And I feel about ten pounds lighter."
I fight from showing the surprise on my face at how much they cut. Her hair is still past her shoulders; anyone who'd never seen her before would consider her hair long.
"Well, think of how much longer your shampoo will last," I say. I want to say, think of how much less hair you'll leave behind. Look, I know girls shed, but Zella, her hair was so long, one strand looked like ten.
More giggles come from my girl, and I thread my hand through her hair one more time before moving it to the back of her head. I pull her into me and kiss her. Her own hand reaches up and cups my cheek. She emits a little moan. I pull back and smile, our noses still touching. "You should hop in, Blondie. I don't want my girlfriend to see me with such a knockout."
This earns me a playful eye roll, but she moves around the car and gets in the passenger side.
"I need to send a picture to Anna," she says, pulling her phone out of her purse.
As I drive away, she takes a selfie. She and Anna talk nearly every day. We flew out to visit them over Christmas break and spent a full week with them. Zella wanted to drive, so she could catch up with her friends at The Cuddle Duck, but I suggested that would be a better trip come summer. Fred and Anna have been wonderful, and the more I get to know them, the more I know I did the right thing helping them come together.
Zella hasn't been able to completely cut ties with her adoptive mother, but their relationship is rocky at best. They email on occasion and hardly ever talk on the phone. Zella hasn't seen her mother and has no plans to do so any time soon. When Zella told her she’d met her birth parents, she really laid on the guilt. I’m proud of my girl, though, she stayed strong and didn’t waver on feeling bad about her new relationship with Fred and Anna. I know it's hard for Zella, and sometimes, I hear her cry. It's hard for her to separate the woman who raised her from the woman who hid such a huge part of who Zella is with all her controlling and boarder line emotionally abusive nature. It was all lies, and she was so strict that it's hard for Zella not to resent her.
I have confidence that she'll be able to work through it. As long as I'm by her side, I'll help her through anything. This girl is my world, and I've made it my mission to make sure she has a happy and fulfilled life.
"So, Blondie, I hear we are bowling tonight." I glance at her in the seat next to me.
She claps her hands together. "Yes, I'm so excited. Louisa tells me Wells isn't happy."
"That's because Wells is a horrible bowler. An eight-year-old could beat him." I chuckle. I'm pretty sure an eight-year-old did beat him last time we played.
"Well, I'm just happy to mark one more thing off my list." She digs around her bag for a
tiny leather journal. It's the size of her smartphone. She flips it open and finds the page she is looking for and crosses out a line with a purple pen.
I peek over at her list and can't help smiling. I bought her the journal for Christmas, and she's been filling it up with all the things she wants to do and experience. The list has grown so much over the past months. It's almost a game to see how many items we can cross off each week. Some weeks nothing is crossed off, other weeks, two or three. I've even added a few items.
"Got anything new on your list? Chopping your hair off was a pretty big one, only seems fitting to have a new one," I added something just last night, I'm not sure she's seen it yet. I smirk to myself.
She thumbs through the pages until she stops and lifts the journal up closer to her face to read what's written on the page. A tiny gasp escapes, and I bite back a laugh.
I pull my eyes from the road briefly, finding her cheeks pink with a blush. "Ryker," she whispers.
"Blondie," I return.
"I'm not sure I'd be any good at that." She snaps the book shut and shoves it in her bag. She doesn't say anything for a few moments.
My smile is huge. I can't keep it from my fucking face. "You're thinking about it now, aren't you?"
She looks out her window, evading my words.
"You're picturing how we'd line it up, aren't you?" she squeaks. "You dirty bird, you. I love it." I laugh, and she turns and smacks me in the arm.
"Ryker Stone, you're going to be the end of me someday." She can't fight it anymore; she's all smiles and giggles.
"You love it." I laugh.
"I love you." She smiles softly.
I grab her hand, lacing my fingers with hers. I bring our hands to my lips and kiss the back of hers. "And I love you too, Blondie."
The End
