My automatic response is to make excuses for him. I bite my tongue until I taste blood. That sort of thing is exactly my problem. I'm still making excuses for him, even in my head. That's how deeply the damage goes. He's dead and in the ground and his ghost still haunts me.
Holly lays a gentle hand on my shoulder I turn to him, fresh tears stinging my eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"
Her smile is a little sad. "Maybe. But I don't think you fucked it up for good. Ryker is a good man. He's not going to hold a little fear against you. Do you want to marry him, Cleo? Does he make you happy? If the answer is no, then you should tell him."
"He makes me happy.Sohappy. I never thought I could have anything like this. He's a freaking teddy bear wrapped up in a giant's body. He loves me. He wants to protect me. And I keep hurting him. If I marry him, he's getting damaged goods. I'm broken, sold as-is."
Holly's eyes go hard and her grip on my shoulder tightens. "No one gets to decide you're broken but you, Cleo. And Ryker doesn't think that. He thinks your goddamn perfect, I guarantee it."
"You're not making himdoanything," Penny adds, nodding her head. "He wants you. He's offering to take care of you for good. So the question is, do you want to marry him?"
"I do," I whisper. "Not right now but maybe in six months or a year..."
"Then that's what you need to tell him," Holly says gently. "It's not a no. It's a wait. He's man enough to take that answer."
I sit up a little straighter. She's right, of course. And if I'd taken half a second to think, I might have come to that conclusion myself. Ryker isn't Damian. He's an endless bastion of patience. He'll give me a year if I ask. And in the meantime, he's not going to turn Bryan and I out. He'd do pretty much anything I asked. Because he really loved me.
I throw my arms around each of their necks and draw them into a slightly tipsy hug. Our heads almost knock together and kiss each of them on the cheeks.
"Gross," Penny says, wiping at her cheek. But the broad grin on her face belies the gesture.
"Thank you two so much," I say, eyes brimming with tears again. I'm so grateful to the pair of them that I could kiss them all over again. "This is exactly what I needed."
I gather up the cash I have on me, pay the bartender and then calculate if I have enough money to call a cab. It turns out I don't, so my options are to eat a piece of humble pie and call Ryker, or depend on Holly for a ride. I glance guilty at Holly, a little frightened at the tongue lashing I'll get from Ryker if I call him now. Maybe there's still a bit of the coward in me after all.
"Can I bum a ride home?"
"Sure," she says, finishing her Shirley Temple. "You okay here, Penny?"
When Penny doesn't immediately answer, Holly pokes her shoulder. Penny is staring up at the TV screen mounted in a corner, eyes glued to the screen and even a sharp bark of her name doesn't draw her attention to us. Without my conscious permission, I follow her gaze and find a sight that drops my heart right into my toes and makes me what to swallow my own tongue in panic.
A newscaster is reporting a possible case of arson. The familiar shape of Ryker's home is engulfed in flame.
I'm pelting toward the door before I can think. Holly is right behind me, holding onto my elbow with a pincer-like grip. I almost trip over the hostess Vicky on my way out. I have to get home. Ihaveto.
Ryker. Bryan. Ryker. Bryan...
Their names repeat on a loop, a screech of panic I can barely hear over. That's probably why it takes Holly more than one try to get my attention.
"Get on my bike," Holly says, tugging me forward. She gestures to the cherry-red Street 500 that Cruz bought for her earlier in the year. It had crashed because it had been tampered with the first time out. Now the bike was beautifully restored.
"Get on," she repeats. "I'll take you to Ryker."
His name finally pierces the screeching panic and I nod, numbly slinging a leg over the seat. It's easier to fit on the bike with Holly, since she's such a waif. She waits until I'm on the bike before taking off, sending us through the pouring rain toward my home.
I can only hope we're not already too late.
18
Ryker
The cold, clear static is back, buzzing through my brain, extinguishing panic like water on a sizzling pan. I'll feel it later, when there's less danger. I've been in plenty of burning buildings.
Though, I reflect, none of them weremine.It adds a new and personal layer to the situation.
I'm across the house in a matter of seconds, pulling open the linen closet in the hall. I find the only non-flammable blanket I have in the bunch. A gag gift from Heather one year, who joked that I'd set the house on fire someday with my smoking habit. I doubt she'll laugh now.
I'm damn sure this fire isn't my doing, which begs the question, who started it and why? Only one name springs immediately to mind.
