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“Who gives a fuck?” Evan mutters. He’s shaking slightly, allowing the anger to take over.
“Evan,” I blanch. “He didn’t choose this for you, you have to know that.”
He shakes his head, clearly not believing me. What I don’t get is why they’d tell him Nate knew and why he thinks Nate wouldn’t tell us, or try to bring him home. There are so many lies surrounding this mess that I fear we’ll never have our answers.
“I can’t help it, Ry. I just can’t. I’m so angry I could kill him right now.” I turn and glare at him, ripping my hand away from his grasp. He moves too quickly for me and has me by the waist and pulled against his now standing form. “You don’t understand, Ry.” His forehead rests against mine and I feel the need to succumb to him right then and there.
“Well, explain it then.”
He shakes his head. “If he were in my platoon, he’d be dead for taking you away. I’m trying to wrap my head around why he did this knowing where I was.”
I cup his face, feeling his stubble against the pads of my fingers. “Evan, he would never be dishonest to either of us that way. If he knew, he wouldn’t have allowed us to bury you. He would’ve gone to my mom and told her. I don’t think he knew.”
Evan leans back and looks me square in the eye. I search his for any semblance of understanding or acceptance but there is none. I’ve seen Evan and Nate argue before, even not talk to each other, but what I fear happening between them now is going to destroy this family again beyond repair.
PACKING UP AT FOUR A.M. again is not my cup of tea, but watching Ryley uncomfortable and awkward and listening to my mother make snide comments about her isn’t either. I’d much rather lounge around and get to know my son, but I can do that anywhere. As long as Ryley lets me back in the house to do so.
I want our time together to be a stepping-stone in reconnecting. It doesn’t ever escape my mind that she’s committed to another, and while that should stop me, it doesn’t. I should be a gentleman, but it’s not in me. I’m a fighter and she’s my top prize, my damn salvation. Without her I’m nothing.
Ryley comes out of the spare bedroom with her fuck-me cut-off shorts on and her hair piled on top of her head. I reach for her, cupping her ass with my hands and am about to kiss the shit out of her when my mother’s door opens. I don’t move away after being caught with my hand in the cookie jar and meet my mom’s glare with my own.
“She’s Nate’s,” she mumbles, walking by.
“She’s not a piece of property,” I reply, staring at Ryley. I lean forward and whisper in her ear, “Except you’re mine.”
She punches me lightly in the chest. “I thought I wasn’t a piece of property?” Her eyebrow raises and all I want to do is kiss the fuck out of that smirk of hers.
“Eh, I lied.” I swat her ass lightly and walk into the guest room. EJ is sleeping in the middle of the bed with his arms spread out wide. “Does he always sleep like this?
Ryley brushes against me and intentional or not, I’m taking it. “Yes, reminds me of someone else I know.” She smiles before turning away.
“It’s not my fault that I have to touch you while I’m sleeping.” I scoop EJ up and into my arms. He’s a dead weight, but feels light as feather. I have so much to make up for and hope that he gives me a chance. Maybe we can toss a football around later, or a baseball. I’ll do anything he wants as long as I get to spend some time with him. Unless he’s into dress up – not sure I can handle him putting make-up on me. We’d have to tag team Ryley and decorate her.
I think back to what I just said to Ryley about touching her when I sleep. It’s been so long that I’m not sure I remember what she feels like pressed up against me. My memories probably have nothing on reality. It’s been so long since I’ve had her in my arms like that.
“You ready?” her voice breaks my reverie. I smile at her and double check EJ’s car seat not remembering if I strapped him in or not.
“Yeah,” I nod. My mom comes outside to say goodbye. She doesn’t hug Ryley and that really irritates me. Ryley could’ve been a bitch and kept EJ from her, but she didn’t. The least my mom can do is respect her and treat her fairly. I give her a quick one arm hug and slide into the car. I refuse to make eye contact with her as I start the car and pull out of her driveway. I do, however, link hands with Ryley and wink at her. She shakes her head, but allows a sly little smile to form on her cute mouth. I’m really starting to despise our life right now. There’s so much I want to do to her, but that fucking ring on her left hand is stopping me. I have far too much respect for her to even put her in that position. I have no respect for the man who slipped it on her finger though and I’m going to do everything I can to get it off and out of her life.
After a quick pit stop for coffee and breakfast, we’re back on the road. We could’ve eaten at my mother’s, but I wanted to get out of there and wish we flew instead of driving, although sitting next to Ryley for an extended period of time is well worth it.
“I’m sorry about my mom.” I don’t know why I feel the need to say this, but I do. I want her to know that it doesn’t matter what my mom thinks or says. I still love her. Probably more now than I did before I left. I’m not sure how that’s possible, but it’s how I’m feeling.
“It’s fine, Evan. It’s something I’ve been dealing with since… it’s just been awhile.”
She avoids saying that I died and I’m thankful for that. It’s beyond creepy to hear her say that to me. I know she’s having a hard time, but so am I.
As we drive, I keep looking over at her. She’s reading with her feet on the dash. Her toes are painted electric blue and her feet are moving to the beat from the radio. If she were anyone else, including my sister, I’d slap her legs down. I hate seeing feet on the dash. My eyes travel between her legs and the road. I have to adjust the way I’m sitting and in the process her hand brushes against the bulge forming in my shorts. Her eyes catch mine and I slam my hand down on hers before she can pull away. My eyes close briefly and the images of our first time together flash before my eyes.
I knew she was a virgin when I met her. It only took me a day to figure it out, but it never bothered me. That wasn’t why I was with her. From the moment I met her on the street, sprawled out and bruised from my errant throw I was smitten with her. There was something about her that I couldn’t get off my mind. I had to have her.
She was so cautious with me though because other chicks in school bragged. I wasn’t a saint, not like Nate. He was saving himself and I was sampling the variety in front of me until Ryley came along. I know she thought I was a player, but I only had eyes for her from that moment. It took me a long time to convince her that I didn’t want anyone else. I never thought she’d be the one to initiate sex though and when she did, I just about blew my load right in my gym shorts.
One of Ryley’s rules, or rather her father’s rule, was that she wasn’t allowed at my house unless my parents were home. Most of the time, it wasn’t a big deal because my mom was always home. She’d let us go up to my room as long as the door stayed open. That really didn’t mean anything because she never came upstairs. She had no reason to. Nate and I were responsible for keeping the upstairs clean and once I started bringing Ryley over, I busted my ass up there.
My parents were out of town and I told her, mostly to tease her. I didn’t expect her to want to come over. When she asked if we were going to my house I remember looking at her with so much surprise I couldn’t come up with the answer. When she pulled her lower lip in between her teeth and looked up at me. I lost it. I knew she was ready or willing to try. That all our heavy make-out sessions were finally going to help me round that last base and head for home.
When we pulled into my driveway, my head was swimming. It was like my brain was gasping for air, and I couldn’t clear the fog. I couldn’t understand. Here was my girl, ready and willing to give herself to me in a way she can give to no other, and I couldn’t think straight. When my dick should have been doing all the thinking, he was laying limp in my shorts. ‘Fucking asshole.’
