Chapter Seventeen - Rachel
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Rachel
“I’m really trying to understand the point of these shows, but I can’t. I’ve seen some messed up stuff, but this is just disturbing,” Alec says.
“Got to say, I agree.” Donovan’s expression mirrors Alec’s distaste. “What do you even like about this stuff?”
I laugh. “It’s interesting. I mean, the actual acts are gruesome, yeah, but the thought process behind it all is interesting. You guys are just being babies. Kade isn’t complaining.”
We all look to Kade, who occupies the chair while the rest of us share the couch. His face remains stoic as he answers, “I’m with the guys on this one. True crime as entertainment is twisted.”
“I’m sorry, remind me again what it is you all do for a living?”
All of them open their mouths, no doubt, to list the differences between their jobs and these shows, but none of them get the chance. The cabin door opens, and Ryder steps inside, slicing through the comfortable atmosphere and replacing it with stuffy tension.
Donovan clears his throat. “We better get going. We’ll see you tomorrow, Rachel.” He stands, and Alec and Kade do the same.
I wave goodbye but don’t look away from Ryder.
The boys make their way to the door, mumbling, “See you later, Ride-her,” as they go.
Usually, the nickname would amuse me, but not now.
“I’ll be back after the appointment,” Alec says, but Ryder shakes his head.
“Don’t bother. I’m staying in tonight,” he answers, and I almost huff.
Guess I’ll be spending the evening in my room.
The door shuts behind them, leaving me alone with Ryder.
Alec has spent every day with me since I moved here, but Donovan and Kade only started joining him regularly last week.
He says it’s because they have nothing else to do, but I know better.
These are mafia capos, after all. There’s no way they’re short on work.
Alec started bringing them because he noticed that Ryder and I weren’t talking to each other.
Aside from asking about the baby, our communication is nonexistent.
A few days ago, when Kade and Donovan didn’t realize I could hear them from the kitchenette, I overheard them talking about the M.A.C.
Project. They didn’t say anything about the project itself, only that Ryder had been in the minority by voting against it.
They’d speculated that it could be the reason for his dark mood over the last two weeks, but I don’t let myself accept that as an excuse for his behavior.
I don’t care what projects do or don’t happen at the base.
I deserve a level of attention and respect that Ryder has refused me.
I’d considered leaving that night, but to go where?
So, I started putting a plan together.
Finishing my degree virtually is still the best option, so the real concern is finding a place to stay and a job I can balance with my school at a reasonable stress level.
Crashing on my parent’s couch is only a temporary solution, so I’ve kept an eye on available apartments back home.
The hardest part is finding a job that fits my needs.
I haven’t nailed down anything yet, but so far, my options seem to be delivering for an on-demand food app or stretching the truth on my resume to get a job as a receptionist.
I’ve even looked up plane tickets home, and the cheapest one leaves in three days.
The night of our fight, leaving had seemed like the only option, but now that so much time has passed, it feels more like a bitter obligation. But I can’t spend the next several months living under the same roof as a man who will hardly look at me, let alone talk to me.
It’s not like he’s fighting very hard to keep me here.
“How are you feeling today?” he asks, with a formality that fits the stifling air.
I give him a small, forced smile. “Fine.”
He nods once, angling toward the door. “Are you ready to go?”
My hands automatically go to my stomach, which flips in excitement. I may not be the biggest fan of my present company, but I won’t let that ruin today. In fact, I’m not sure anything could ruin this day.
Today, we’ll be learning the gender of our child.
Ryder opens the passenger door and helps me inside before driving the short distance between our cabin and the base.
When it came time to find a doctor in this area, I wanted to go to a doctor’s office—like any other person would. Ryder didn’t like that idea. He wanted an on-call private doctor to work out of the base’s infirmary.
The compromise was that I’d choose my doctor, and Ryder would buy them out. It’s a complete waste of money, in my opinion, but since it isn’t my money, I didn’t fight him on it.
I don’t wait for Ryder to open my door once we’re parked, which earns me a narrow-eyed look that I ignore. I don’t know the base’s layout well, but I do know where the infirmary is, so I lead the way with Ryder trailing just behind me.
We get to Dr. Cane’s office, and I change into the gown provided to me while Ryder waits outside the room.
When I’m ready, I unlock the door, and Ryder takes that as an invitation to join me. We don’t say anything as we take our seats—his on the wooden chair by the door, mine on the examination table.
Right on time, Dr. Cane steps into the room, his graying hair and soft smile firmly in place.
I tried to find a female doctor—if for no other reason than to give the middle finger to the male-dominated organization—but in the end, I chose Dr. Cane.
He was one of my favorite candidates—with an excellent record and even more impressive bedside manner—and I didn’t want to force any woman into this environment.
“Miss Lance, how are you feeling?” he asks, wrinkles creasing his face in a welcoming smile.
I return the warmth with a grin, and it’s the first time the expression has come naturally since Alec, Donovan, and Kade left. “I’m a little more sore than normal, and my heartburn has been getting worse, but other than that, I’m feeling good.”
He nods, turning the monitor on and preparing his equipment. I try not to look at Ryder, though I can feel his gaze on me. I’m sure he’s not happy that I didn’t answer his same question as thoroughly as I answered the doctor.
Dr. Cane washes his hands and slides on a pair of gloves. “You ready?”
“Very,” I tell him.
“Let’s get started.”
He squirts the jelly onto my stomach, and my heart leaps when the static-filled screen comes alive as the transducer meets my swollen belly.
I’m mesmerized as the screen moves with the remote, though I can’t make out a damn thing.
Maybe that concentration is why I don’t notice Ryder coming closer until the heat of him covers my side, bringing with it a comfort I didn’t realize I needed.
When I turn, my breath catches at the sight of Ryder on his knees at my side. Lowered this way, our eyes are leveled, and his are softer than I’ve ever seen. He doesn’t say anything, but when he lifts one hand, he says more with the gesture than he could with words.
His palm hovers next to mine, a question dancing behind the deep brown eyes that I’m tempted to lose myself in.
I can’t explain why, but it feels so natural to lift my hand and place it in his.
It’s the first time we’ve touched—really touched—in weeks, and I think back to a time before the baby, when touching Ryder was a regular occurrence, not a rarity.
Back then, we knew nothing about each other but moved together so naturally, like it was all we ever knew, and I wonder if intimacy is what’s missing now. Maybe we’re having a hard time getting to know each other because we took away the one part of our relationship that was truly effortless.
It’s a dangerous way to think, but it makes me squeeze his hand just a little bit tighter as if I can commit this feeling of safety to memory.
“Mr. Bates, Miss Lance, are you ready to learn the sex of your child?” Dr. Cane asks.
Neither Ryder nor I bother to move our gazes from each other like we’re unwilling to risk losing the understanding we seem to have formed.
“Yes,” we say in unison.
“Congratulations. You’re having a baby girl.”
I close my eyes with a face-splitting smile, and warm lips gently kiss my forehead.
It’s a moment of complete and utter joy that eases itself into my memory and soul.
I truly would’ve been happy with either gender, but knowing I have a little baby girl growing inside me now fills me with so much happiness.
“Thank you, Dr. Cane. Would you mind giving us some privacy?” Ryder asks, and I hear the doctor’s murmured agreement before the door closes.
When I open my eyes, I’m faced with Ryder’s brilliant smile, and the sight of it, mixed with the news of our having a girl, brings one word to mind.
Perfect.
We don’t say anything, just bask in the light atmosphere after so many days of tense interactions.
Slowly, like he doesn’t know it’s happening, Ryder’s smile fades as he stands.
He takes a rag from the counter and begins to wipe the gel from my stomach with a gentleness that would suggest I’m made of glass.
His eyes never waver from my stomach, but mine are trained on his every movement. The pure joy we shared just seconds ago wanes as his expression turns neutral—and I hate it.
And I hate that I hate it.
“I never meant to isolate you,” he finally says, setting the rag down and picking up a new one. He wets it and wipes my stomach clear of any remnant of gel, and there’s something so intimate about the level of care he’s taking.
“Bringing you here wasn’t a way to trap you, and the last thing I want is for you to regret coming with me.
I want you to enjoy staying here.” Once it’s clean and dry, Ryder rests a tender hand over my stomach.
“You were right. I haven’t taken the time for us to get to know each other, but it was never because I don’t want to. ”
“Then why?” I ask on a shaky breath.
There’s a long pause, so long that I wonder if he’s going to answer me at all, but when I study him—really gaze into that seemingly natural face—I see it for the mask that it is. I see the war raging behind guarded eyes, the tension ticking in supposedly resting lips, and I understand.
Ryder never meant to cut me out.
He just never knew how to let me in.
He’s never had to make himself vulnerable for someone.
“My dad left before I was born,” he says quietly, confirming my theory.
“It was always just Mom and me. She struggled financially, which is why I joined this family. For the first time in my life, we were provided for, but it was so much more than that. I found purpose, a place where I belonged. A family.” He sets the rag on the counter and stands at my side, returning his hand to my stomach.
“My mom passed away a few years ago, and I had this family to fall back on, but now… now, I can’t stop thinking about how you’ll take the baby back to Sacramento once she’s born.
I’ll have a daughter, and she’ll be raised four hundred miles away from me.
I’ve had a difficult time coming to terms with that, which is part of the reason I’ve kept a distance. ”
“And the other part?”
His eyes catch mine with no hint of the neutrality I’ve come to hate. Instead, that gaze narrows like I’m missing something painfully obvious.
“Rachel, you’re pregnant by a man you barely know, who moved you to a new city and turned out to be a mafia underboss. Is it so surprising that I gave you space to adjust to your circumstances?”
Space to adjust.
He’d given me space to adjust.
All this time, I thought he wanted nothing to do with me when, in reality, he didn’t want to overwhelm me. When I’d waited for him to show some sign of interest, he’d waited for me to show some sign of comfort, of readiness.
“I didn’t think about it like that,” I admit. “I just—I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me. That you only brought me here out of obligation.”
He breathes out a sound that would imply my logic is anything but. “I’ve already taken so much from you. The least I could do was allow you to set the terms of our relationship.”
I wonder what it is he thinks he’s taken from me.
If he thinks I mourn the loss of my youth, cut short with impending motherhood.
If he thinks I miss my friends who are off living their dreams. If he thinks I long for the city I’ve called home my whole life.
And though some of those things could be true—to an extent—I wonder if he realizes just how much he’s given me.
A daughter whose arrival I can hardly wait for. A safe home without the burden of financial strain. The opportunity to focus on my degree and health with minimal distractions.
The only thing he has truly taken from me is himself, and I didn’t realize just how much that meant to me until recently.
So, I take him up on the offer to set the terms of this relationship. “Friends.”
“You want to be friends?” he asks with a faint but genuine smile.
I nod. “We skipped that part, and it seems like the best place to start if we want to get to know each other.”
“Then friends it is,” he confirms, then clears his throat. “But, there is one more thing. I need to ask you a favor.”
“What kind of favor?”
His smile falters, and for the first time, I see nervousness and hesitance in the man who always seems so much larger than life itself. “I need you to consider staying after she’s born. Maybe not forever, but long enough for me to form a relationship with her, too.”
Just last night I was looking up plane tickets to fly home. I’d been preparing to figure out this whole parenting thing on my own.
Now I find myself considering a completely different future, one where LA becomes my home for more than the duration of this pregnancy.
“I’ll think about it,” I tell him.
And it should scare me that a part of me already wants to agree.