Chapter Six
Ryder
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
I cover Sasha with the flannel I stripped off a few minutes before and hold her close against my chest.
She stares up at me with big round eyes. “What do I do?”
“You can get dressed, sit out here with me, and we can pretend like nothin’ was goin’ on. Or… we can tell him.”
Her eyes widen as she says, “Tell him what?”
“Tell him the truth.” My shoulders roll forward as I hold her in place. “I can’t live without ya. I know that more than ever now. You’re mine, Sasha. He’s goin’ to have to see it at some point.”
“But now?” she gasps, her tone rising. “I don’t want to mess things up for you, Ryder. You just got him back.”
I look toward the window, watching my son make his way up the front steps. He already knows. He knew somehow in the hallway today at the house. That’s why he came out here. I’m a fuckin’ idiot, and it’s best if I tell him the truth. “We can’t sneak around forever. We should tell him. Be honest. If nothin’ else, he can respect that.”
I don’t know if it’s the right decision or not. All I know is that leaving this cabin without Sasha next to me today would be a hell I’m not capable of going through. Not after I’ve had my hand inside of her, her breath on my face, my teeth on her skin.
God damn!
Mason knocks on the door twice, then lets himself in, staring toward me with a locked jaw and downturned eyes. His fists are clenched as though he’s ready to fight. “Why is Sasha wearing your shirt, Dad?”
“I can explain.”
“Can you,” he steps towards me, shoulders square, his hat back. He’s a little wild, but we’ve never gotten physical, “because I think your over here fucking my girlfriend.”
Sasha steps out from behind me, her soft tone raised as she says, “I’m not your girlfriend, Mason. We weren’t right together. We never were. We broke up years ago. I don’t know why you’d ever think we’d get back together.”
Mason glances toward me, his heavy brows narrowed. “So, you’re fucking her and telling her my secrets,” he laughs under his breath. “You know… you spent a lifetime convincing me you had your shit together. But this… damn.”
“Look, kid, I fucked up. I get it, but I’m in love with Sasha.” The words spill from my throat easily, though they burn afterward. The last thing I want to do is hurt my son, but at this point, I can’t see how lying is any better.
“Jesus.” He grins, though I’m guessing it’s out of anxiety. “What the fuck is going on here? Is this why you’ve been acting so weird? You’re fucking my ex?”
“No one’s fucked anyone,” Sasha says, her hand tucked into mine as she stands at my side. “I’m so sorry, Mason. If it’s any consolation, this is the first time we’ve even admitted the feelings to ourselves.”
Mason steps forward, and I tuck Sasha behind me as he straightens his posture, pulls back his fist, and punches me square in the jaw with a loud crack. Our eyes meet where his anger lives, and I’m left with a pain I’ve never felt before, a weight on my chest, an echoing deflation, and the realization that I can’t go back from this.
Sasha cries, spinning in front of me as my son slams the door behind him, shattering a framed photo of her parents as he leaves. The reaction he’s had is normal, and I don’t blame him for the punch, I deserve it, but the reality of his response is harder to stomach than I thought it would be.
I guess delusion was my mind’s way of protecting myself. What the hell am I doing?
Sasha rushes into the kitchen, grabbing a tea towel to fill with ice as I sit back on the couch near the fireplace, watching her thick hips move. “Come back and sit. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re bleeding!” She curls onto the couch next to me, holding the iced towel at my jaw.
“I’m so sorry ya had to see that, baby. I should’ve handled that conversation at home.”
Her gaze softens then turns dark. “It’s good I saw it, Ryder. I convinced you to come over here. I convinced you to touch me. You and Mason are the only family either of you have. Trust me, I know what it’s like to lose your parents. He won’t be the same. He needs you.” A tear rolls down her face.
“He has me. He’s always had me.” I thumb away her tears and pull her into my chest, but she resists.
“No, he doesn’t. You’ve been distracted by me. Maybe he knew that somehow. I mean, why else did he come over here today?”
“I told ya, he was going to talk about gettin’ back together. Maybe it was that.”
“That’s even worse, Ryder.” Another tear falls, and I hate myself for hurting her. “We can’t do this. I’m sorry. I think you should leave.”
“Sasha, we’ve done the hard part. We’ve told him how we feel. It’s gonna take time, but he’ll come around. You’ll see.”
“And what if he doesn’t?” Her hand lands on her hip as my flannel hangs below her knees. “What if he hates you forever and you lose your son? You’d hate yourself, and I’d hate myself, and then what?”
“That’s not gonna happen. He’ll come around. Trust me.” I stand and land my hand against her shoulder, desperate to convince her that this thing we’ve just started isn’t over, but her expression tells me I’m losing ground.
Sasha stares down at the floor, then up again, before tipping up onto her toes to land a soft kiss against my lips. “We should take a break with this, and you should figure things out with your son.”
“No, Sasha. It took seven years to get to where we got today. We can’t throw all that away because things are hard right now.”
Tears streak down her face as she shakes her head and tucks into the bathroom, locks the door, and runs the water. I knock half a dozen times, but she doesn’t respond. Something tells me she won’t.
Fuck. An hour ago, I was close to having everything I ever needed. Now, I have nothing.
My stomach tightens and I step toward the broken picture frame, pulling out the photo inside before cleaning the glass off the ground and tossing the remnants in the trash. It’s a sweet picture of the three of them at the ocean. Sasha must have been three or four at the time. Her hair is in pigtails, and her smile is wide and bright with all the beauty of the world ahead of her still. I set the photo on the kitchen counter and make my way outside into the cold.
A better man would’ve ignored his urges. A better man would’ve taken care of her without falling in love. A better man would’ve put his son first.
What the hell have I done?