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Story: Reaching Ryan
Chapter Thirteen
Ryan
Against my better judgment, I took Kaitlyn’s advice and showered. Brushed my teeth. Struggled into a pair of clean jeans and a T-shirt free of lasagna stains. Shoving my feet into a pair of slip-ons I keep parked near the door, I almost chickened out. Almost said fuck it and left them out there.
Grace and Molly.
They’d get the picture and leave, sooner or later.
But then I’d have Patrick to contend with.
And Cari.
And Tess.
And Conner who’ll wind up being the worst of them because he has no kinda filter and has no problem with pissing me off.
They’d all catch wind of it eventually and give me shit for being an asshole to a little kid.
Yeah. That’s why you’re doing this. Because you don’t want to disappoint your family. Makes perfect considering you’ve done nothing but go out of your way to disappoint them since you got back Keep telling yourself that, Ranger.
“Fuck me,” I mutter under my breath, jerking the door open to force myself into the hallway before pulling it closed with a resolute click.
Now, thanks to Nurse Nosy, I’m stuck in an elevator with her and I can’t stop thinking about the fact that less than twenty minutes ago I was dreaming about fucking her which is kinda messed up considering her kid is jabbering at me a mile-a-minute and she won’t even look at me. She’s pissed at me. Maybe for taking so long to make an appearance. Maybe for letting the two of us getting roped into this mess in the first place. For not telling her to fuck off like I do everyone else.
And to make things worse, I want to kiss her.
More than kiss her.
Tell the truth, I’ve thought and dreamt about it so much over the last few days that I feel like I already have. Like leaning over and putting my mouth on her would be the most natural thing in the world when what it’d really be is a surefire way to get my tongue bit off.
When the elevator car hits the lobby and lets out a ding, Molly slips her hand into mine and looks up at me expectantly. It’s been a long time since someone looked at me like that. Like I know exactly what I’m doing and where we’re going, and they trust me to get them there. It scares me a little. Taking the lead, I step out of the elevator and shuffle thump my way to the facility directory in the middle of the lobby, Molly in tow.
Studying the map, I nod. There are three sit-down restaurants in this place and only one of them looks like it’d have banana splits on the menu. “This way,” I say, jogging my head toward the left. When I start to walk, they follow me—Molly without question while Grace looks like she’s chock full of them when I grind to a halt in front of what looks like a miniature version 50s-style diner and a sign that says please seat yourself.
Because I seem to be in charge of this expedition, I lead them to an empty booth. Molly dives in and immediately starts flipping through the catalog on the table-top jukebox while Grace watches me grimace and struggle my way into the booth. “Let’s just find a regular table,” she says, ready to reach across the bench seat to drag Molly across it.
“Tables don’t have jukeboxes,” I tell her, my tone closing the subject, at least for me. I’m still not 100% after my backyard brawl with Con on Sunday—which means I’m operating at about 20%. Finally situated, I look up at her, ignoring the pair of orderlies eating lunch at the lunch counter. They keep looking at us, shooting sly looks at the three of us over their shoulders. “I’m committed here—changing tables will cost more time and effort than either of us would like to spend.”
Cheeks stained a bright pink, Grace slips into the booth next to her daughter. “I’m sorry we bothered you,” she says, focusing on situating her purse on the seat next to her.
Me too.
That’s what I mean to say.
Me too.
That way, no matter what I’m feeling, she won’t get the wrong idea about what this is or where any of it is going.
Because it’s not going anywhere.
It can’t go anywhere.
“I’m not.”
When I say it, her gaze jerks up from her purse to find mine, cheeks flushed, mouth slightly parted like she’s suddenly having a hard time breathing.
“It’s okay, Ryan.” She moves again, her hand sliding along the inside of my thigh, the feel of her fingers tracing closer as insistent as it is inevitable. “We all have scars…”
Ryan
Against my better judgment, I took Kaitlyn’s advice and showered. Brushed my teeth. Struggled into a pair of clean jeans and a T-shirt free of lasagna stains. Shoving my feet into a pair of slip-ons I keep parked near the door, I almost chickened out. Almost said fuck it and left them out there.
Grace and Molly.
They’d get the picture and leave, sooner or later.
But then I’d have Patrick to contend with.
And Cari.
And Tess.
And Conner who’ll wind up being the worst of them because he has no kinda filter and has no problem with pissing me off.
They’d all catch wind of it eventually and give me shit for being an asshole to a little kid.
Yeah. That’s why you’re doing this. Because you don’t want to disappoint your family. Makes perfect considering you’ve done nothing but go out of your way to disappoint them since you got back Keep telling yourself that, Ranger.
“Fuck me,” I mutter under my breath, jerking the door open to force myself into the hallway before pulling it closed with a resolute click.
Now, thanks to Nurse Nosy, I’m stuck in an elevator with her and I can’t stop thinking about the fact that less than twenty minutes ago I was dreaming about fucking her which is kinda messed up considering her kid is jabbering at me a mile-a-minute and she won’t even look at me. She’s pissed at me. Maybe for taking so long to make an appearance. Maybe for letting the two of us getting roped into this mess in the first place. For not telling her to fuck off like I do everyone else.
And to make things worse, I want to kiss her.
More than kiss her.
Tell the truth, I’ve thought and dreamt about it so much over the last few days that I feel like I already have. Like leaning over and putting my mouth on her would be the most natural thing in the world when what it’d really be is a surefire way to get my tongue bit off.
When the elevator car hits the lobby and lets out a ding, Molly slips her hand into mine and looks up at me expectantly. It’s been a long time since someone looked at me like that. Like I know exactly what I’m doing and where we’re going, and they trust me to get them there. It scares me a little. Taking the lead, I step out of the elevator and shuffle thump my way to the facility directory in the middle of the lobby, Molly in tow.
Studying the map, I nod. There are three sit-down restaurants in this place and only one of them looks like it’d have banana splits on the menu. “This way,” I say, jogging my head toward the left. When I start to walk, they follow me—Molly without question while Grace looks like she’s chock full of them when I grind to a halt in front of what looks like a miniature version 50s-style diner and a sign that says please seat yourself.
Because I seem to be in charge of this expedition, I lead them to an empty booth. Molly dives in and immediately starts flipping through the catalog on the table-top jukebox while Grace watches me grimace and struggle my way into the booth. “Let’s just find a regular table,” she says, ready to reach across the bench seat to drag Molly across it.
“Tables don’t have jukeboxes,” I tell her, my tone closing the subject, at least for me. I’m still not 100% after my backyard brawl with Con on Sunday—which means I’m operating at about 20%. Finally situated, I look up at her, ignoring the pair of orderlies eating lunch at the lunch counter. They keep looking at us, shooting sly looks at the three of us over their shoulders. “I’m committed here—changing tables will cost more time and effort than either of us would like to spend.”
Cheeks stained a bright pink, Grace slips into the booth next to her daughter. “I’m sorry we bothered you,” she says, focusing on situating her purse on the seat next to her.
Me too.
That’s what I mean to say.
Me too.
That way, no matter what I’m feeling, she won’t get the wrong idea about what this is or where any of it is going.
Because it’s not going anywhere.
It can’t go anywhere.
“I’m not.”
When I say it, her gaze jerks up from her purse to find mine, cheeks flushed, mouth slightly parted like she’s suddenly having a hard time breathing.
“It’s okay, Ryan.” She moves again, her hand sliding along the inside of my thigh, the feel of her fingers tracing closer as insistent as it is inevitable. “We all have scars…”
Table of Contents
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