Chapter 4 #2
“And? What’s wrong with that?” Adrienne asked.
She paused and looked at him directly. “I mean, there has to be something wrong with it, or you wouldn’t be as worried as you are.
But can you explain? Or is this something that is best done over beers when we’re not at work and waiting for someone to walk in at any moment.
I’m not going to pry.” She glared at her man and her brother as they snickered.
“I don’t pry when it’s really important.
Or I guess, I don’t pry if it’ll hurt, even if it’s still important. You know that.”
“I do,” Ryan whispered. Both Shep and Mace agreed, nodding and verbalizing their assent. At least, that was something.
“My brother’s a drug addict.”
Adrienne reached out for Ryan, and he didn’t pull back when she patted his hand. She immediately dropped her arm, though, and he was grateful. He didn’t mind being touched, but it was hard enough to talk about this subject without having to worry about hurting his friend’s feelings.
“And is he using right now?” Mace asked.
Ryan nodded, thankful for the question. Just because someone was an addict didn’t mean they were using all the time.
You could be completely sober, going on a decade of not using, and still be an addict.
You would always have that craving. Ryan wasn’t an addict, but his twin was.
And that meant he had seen the signs, had attended the classes, had gone to the support groups.
He had tried to help his brother his entire life. But he hadn’t been enough.
That was why he needed to stay away from Abby.
But he knew he wouldn’t.
Because maybe he was an asshole.
“He’s using again. He showed up on my doorstep last night after I got back from Abby’s.
I was making sure she got home okay. He wanted money, wanted a place to stay.
But I had to push him away. I have my damn house because of the money my parents left to me out of guilt. ” He paused. “I had to push him away.”
“Guilt?” Adrienne asked.
Ryan shook his head as the bell on top of the door rang. Mace’s client had arrived. “I’ll talk about it later. Promise. But I’m not going to hurt Abby. I can’t. Because if I do, I’m going to hate myself more than I already do.”
Adrienne gave him a look, and he knew this conversation wasn’t over. But it wasn’t like he could talk right then. He had so many thoughts going through his mind, and was too busy thinking about Abby and Michael and Julia. He knew he should stay away, but he wasn’t going to.
Thankfully, his client came in next, so he didn’t have to think about anything personal anymore.
He only had to think about the ink. Just had to concentrate on the art that he was about to create, the piece that would conform exactly to what it needed to be and would be a representation of what his client needed, what they wanted.
This was something he could do.
This was something he was damn good at.
And maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t fuck up everything else.
“You think Carter’s okay?” Landon asked from across Ryan’s bedroom.
“Well, he went home with Roxie, so I guess he’s as okay as he’s going to be right now.” Ryan looked in his closet and then glanced over at his friend.
Landon and Ryan were still new friends, but they were close. They’d met through Mace and then Shep and hadn’t looked back. They had beers with the guys sometimes and, considering they hadn’t married into the Montgomerys like the rest of them, they had formed a bond.
They were not dating, contrary to popular belief. It amazed Ryan how many people thought that the suave and suited broker would want anything to do with Ryan in his jeans and usually ratty shirt, with all his piercings and tattoos.
But Ryan didn’t mind. Landon was hot, and he was also one of Ryan’s best friends. He and Landon had never dated, and considering that he knew that Landon’s gaze had settled on another of their friends, a certain art teacher with a penchant for glaring at them both, Ryan was glad they hadn’t.
Plus, Ryan had always had eyes for Abby. Landon had noticed that from the start, even if it had taken a little bit longer for everyone else to see it.
“I can’t believe that Carter got burned as bad as he did at Thea’s bakery,” Landon said, shaking his head. “I swear, between the tattoo shop getting broken into, and the bakery having a freaking explosion, it’s like one thing after another with the Montgomerys.”
“Truer words have never been spoken,” Ryan said, turning with two shirts in his hands. “The dark blue or the black?”
Landon raised a brow, shaking his head. “They’re the exact same shirt. Just in two different colors.”
Ryan shrugged. “You say that as if you don’t own eighteen of the same shirt.”
Landon put his hand on his chest as if wounded, and Ryan rolled his eyes. He knew that Landon was trying to jokingly come on to him because it was safe. The two of them were friends for a reason.
“You’re an idiot. I’m just going to say it now. You’re an idiot.”
“No, Ryan, my dear boy, you’re the idiot. And you want to wear the other black one you have. The one that I gave you for your birthday.”
“That shirt? No. That shirt cost more than I make in a month.”
Landon rolled his eyes and pushed Ryan out of the way.
“No, not so much. And I know what Adrienne and Shep pay you and what you make from your clients. You make a hell of a lot more in a week than I paid for that shirt. I got it on sale. I like money. Therefore, I don’t spend it unless I have to. Remember?”
Ryan huffed out a breath and then stripped off his current shirt before putting on the one that Landon handed over.
“See? I was right. It looks the best. And make sure you brush your hair and put in some of that gel you like. I already know that you’ve already taken care of your facial hair. You take care of your beard more than you take care of anything else on you or in this house.”
Ryan ran his hand over his beard and grinned. “It takes a lot of work to make this look good.”
Landon burst out laughing. “Are you saying you don’t look good unless you put work into it?”
Ryan flipped him off. “Oh, shut up. Beard care is some of the most important care you can do. It takes a lot of soaps and oils to make sure it smells nice and isn’t a Petri dish of crap that you don’t want to think about.”
“Emphasis on the crap.”
Ryan snorted since that was true. He and his friends who had beards took care of themselves, unlike some of the guys out there who grew a beard and ignored it. Didn’t they ever want their mouths on another person? If they did, they needed to take care of their damn beards.
Ryan went to brush his hair like Landon had told him to. His friend was better at this whole dating thing than Ryan was, so he would take the other man’s advice.
“But back to Carter,” Ryan began, “he’s going to be okay. As for if he and Roxie are going to be okay together? That’s a whole other story.”
Landon sighed, leaning against the doorway between the master bathroom and the master bath. “I know. I’m a little worried about those two. I don’t think they’re going to last. I don’t think they can.”
Ryan met Landon’s gaze in the mirror. “Do you know something I don’t?”
Landon shook his head. “No, I don’t. I just have a feeling.
But maybe Carter getting hurt like he did will force the two of them to actually talk to one another.
Talking’s hard. People say it’s easy, then they yell at each other for not talking when it’s important.
But actually coming up with the words and trying to figure out what you feel? That’s a lot harder than it should be.”
Ryan glanced at his friend. He wasn’t sure if Landon was talking about Roxie and Carter or him and Kaylee, but it wasn’t like Ryan could ask. As his friend had said, talking was hard. And he wasn’t about to broach that subject when Landon wasn’t ready—or when Ryan had to think about Abby.
“Has Michael stopped by again?” Landon asked, seemingly out of the blue.
Ryan shook his head. “I haven’t seen him since he came by last night.” His brother had stopped by two other times over the past week, and Ryan had pushed him away each time. He hated doing it, but he knew it was for the best.
Ryan had almost ended up in jail once because of Michael, and he wasn’t going to do it again.
There was only one way to help his brother, and that was by making sure that Michael saw and confronted his own demons.
Every time he came for food or money and Ryan gave in, Ryan ended up hurt, and Michael ended up in a worse downward spiral.
Ryan had attempted to get Michael counseling, but he’d refused.
He’d tried to get him treatment, and Michael had almost beaten Ryan to death.
There was nothing Ryan could do except try to protect his own life and pray that, no matter what happened, Michael would land on his feet.
Because he always did.
“I just hope he doesn’t somehow find me on my date with Abby.”
Landon narrowed his eyes. “It’s not going to happen. I know that you’ve already had to push your brother away numerous times, but you might have to do it again if he comes after you with her. I’m just saying.”
“I know. And it sucks. But I’m going on a date with a woman I respect and admire. And now I want to throw up because if I fuck this up, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“You’re not going to fuck this up.”
“You know Abby, Landon. She’s soft. She’s gentle. And she’s been through hell and back. I can’t believe she said yes.”
“She said yes because you’re a catch. Because you’re a good man, and you’re not as rough-and-tumble as you think. She said yes because she likes you. And if you both go slow, if you are as gentle as you think she is, you’ll be fine.”
“You’re not going to threaten my balls like the rest of them did?” Ryan said with a laugh.
“I want nothing to do with your balls, Ryan. Contrary to what others think, I really don’t care for that particular part of your anatomy.”
Ryan threw a hand towel at Landon and then laughed.
He needed his friends. Because sometimes, he felt like he was all alone, staring into an abyss full of the answers to the problems he had made for himself.
He knew that Michael wasn’t gone forever.
His parents might be, their decisions forever weighing on him, but Michael would be back.
Though for now, he was going to push those thoughts to the side.
Because tonight was about him and Abby.
Tonight was about another first. And no matter what, he wasn’t going to fuck it up.