Page 43 of Remiss

Those words, like so many others from the sick sex tape, played on repeat in Ryan’s head. Mainly about his mother. He didn’t know how to broach the subject with her. Apologize for what a motherfucker he’d been. Mom endured so much and still managed to love and smile and laugh.

He couldn’t say he was sorry without confessing everything, though. What he’d known. What he’d done.

And what about Harley?

He glanced around, zeroing in on her pillow and blanket, neatly folded and stacked on the bar counter. How much he missed her shocked him. He missedher, but he especially longed for the old Harley. The one who talked about target practice, almost single-handedly won a soccer game at his birthday party, and thought CJ hung the moon. That Harley was the voice of reason, a sweet girl who laughed easily and loved life. That Harley expected CJ to never turn his back on her.

Fuck, Ryan didn’t think CJ had it in him to turn his back on her. Just one of the many things he underestimated or read completely wrong.

If he’d felt sick with guilt and desolate night before last after watching CJ fall apart, Mom and Harley running away compounded the situation tenfold.

No, scratch that.Aunt Meggierunning away made Ryan fear the next fallout. Whatever Uncle Christopher did was egregious enough that she’d actually left him.

Hadhe cheated? Or was it because Johnnie got Ryan to fuck with the recordings of Uncle Christopher and Torie that planted seeds of doubt that ballooned into this?

If they hadn’t fucked with Uncle Christopher’s marriage, things at the club wouldn’t have gotten so out-of-hand.

Maybe, Mom and Harley would still be home. Maybe, Molly would still be alive.

Accepting her death, knowing what he’d done, broke something in Ryan. At the idea that he’d played a role in possibly ruining Aunt Meggie’s marriage made a sob rise in his throat. And when he thought of how Harley was suffering at Willard’s hands because of him, he covered his face, doubled over, and cried.

He couldn’t ever correct any of what he’d done. A girl was dead, another one was humiliated and traumatized, and a marriage was probably over. Not to mention Rebel and Mattie, and the violation of their privacy.

Planting cameras in a grown woman’s room was fucking illegal. His cousins were young teenagers and their fathers were psychos.

Diesel’s face rose in Ryan’s head. Diesel’s behavior toward Rebel was fucked up on so many different levels, but if he ever discovered Ryan recorded Rebel without clothes or touching herself or talking to Mattie or, fuck,anything, he’d scalp, gut, and castrate Ryan. Blind him. Drop him in a vat of acid while he was still breathing. Fucking over Diesel was smoke Ryan didn’t want.

Now that Molly was dead…

Another sob escaped him. He hated himself. Confessing to Diesel would put him out of his misery.

“Ryan, do you—”

Devon didn’t finish whatever he was about to say. Fine with Ryan. He didn’t have the energy to play a video game with his brother.

A sigh broke through Ryan’s devastation. Swiping his hand across his teary eyes and an arm across his runny nose, he met Devon’s gaze.

“Do you miss Mom and Harley?”

“I miss Mom,” Devon admitted. “I’m glad Harley’s gone. She’s toxic.”

“She was,” Ryan admitted softly. “But so was I, and you forgave me.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Devon nodded. “You’re my brother and I was angry with you. There’s a difference.”

“You’ve known Harley all your life.”

“Unfortunately.”

“So how’s it different?” Ryan pressed, sniffling.

“Do I share blood with her?”

“She’s still one of us.”

The doorbell rang before Devon responded. “That’s Rory. Hold on.”

Closing his eyes, Ryan deflated and leaned back against the sofa.