Chapter Twenty-Four - Rachel
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Rachel
I didn’t realize how badly I needed to see my parents until they were sitting across from me in the living room.
I have a great relationship with my mom and dad, but since we all work demanding jobs, we don’t spend much time together, even when we live in the same city.
Having this chance to truly relax, hear about their work, and share how my classes are going is something I cherish more than I can express.
Ryder gave us privacy with an excuse about having to get some work done for the real estate company he works for, then drove off—to the base, I’m sure.
We spend hours talking, but when my father steps outside to take a call, my mom slides to the edge of her chair. “So, what’s the situation with Ryder?”
I take a sip from my water, using it as a moment to gather my thoughts on that particularly confusing topic.
“We’re just figuring out how we’d like to parent, that’s all. Not much of a situation.”
She gives me the kind of knowing look that only a mother can. “Don’t you lie to me. I know you two were making out before your father and I arrived.”
I cringe, partly because she hit the nail on the head and partly because no one should ever hear their parents talk about making out.
“What would make you think that?” I ask, popping the knuckles of my left hand, then my right.
“Your messy hair and the fact that you looked on the brink of passing out. Are you going to deny it?”
I sag my shoulders, giving up the act altogether.
“To be honest, I have absolutely no idea what we are,” I admit.
“What do you want to be?”
His, I think wistfully.
“Good parents,” I say instead.
She nods, then stands from her chair to come to sit beside me on the couch. She lays a hand over mine. “Being a good parent isn’t just about taking care of your child. It’s also about taking care of yourself.”
“What if things don’t work out and then I’m—” I stop myself before the word alone leaves my lips. “I’m just trying to figure all of this out.”
“If it helps, your father and I think Ryder is a good man, and I’m not just saying that because he seems to be able to care for you financially. He cares about you deeply.”
“How do you know?”
She raises her brows with a slight head tilt.
“Rachel, he sends us updates on you all the time. He lets us know whenever there’s an appointment or a particularly good or bad day.
At first, I thought he was just kissing up to us, but today, I saw how he looked at you, and I know it’s more than that. ”
I don’t say anything to that because I have a very real, very scary feeling that she’s right.
Saying goodbye to my parents is bittersweet. I wish—more than anything—that they could stay longer, but they’re starting a project tomorrow and can’t delay it.
Spending time with them has filled me with a sense of peace that I didn’t realize I was missing. Not to mention it eased the homesickness that’s been increasingly more difficult to ignore since I moved here.
The only part I can’t quite shake is my conversation with Mom. I’m not sure if I wanted her to tell me to take the chance with Ryder or not, but her insistence that I should take care of myself has only confused me more.
How can I balance what I want for myself with what’s best for my daughter? What if the two conflict?
The thoughts war in my head as I trudge to my room.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
I almost jump out of my skin at Ryder’s low voice coming from the direction of his bedroom. I almost forgot that he came back from the base before my parents left.
He leans against his bedroom door frame, arms crossed over his chest. The tight T-shirt hugs his muscles, and his sweatpants are slung low on his hips. Those thick lips that took mine just hours ago are pressed in a firm line, and the scruff surrounding it is neatly trimmed.
His dark eyes regard me, and I can’t decide if what I see there is the absence of emotion or if there are so many that he doesn’t know where to begin expressing them.
He looks gorgeous.
Or is that my hormones just getting the better of me?
I scan him up and down twice more.
No, he’s definitely gorgeous.
I point to my room. “I’m going to bed.”
“Using the plastic wrap as a duvet?”
I’d completely forgotten about the painting project that took up most of my day.
“I’ll just grab my clothes and sleep on the couch,” I say and move to the door.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” He wraps a firm hand around my upper arm.
“What are you doing?” I ask, more taken off guard by his touch than the actual gesture of stopping me.
With a small tug, I’m being pulled in the direction of his room. “Taking you to bed.”
“W-what?”
Ryder’s lip tugs up in a wicked smile. “Get your head out of the gutter, Rebel. I’ll sleep on the couch, and you can sleep in my bed.”
I have no explanation for why that answer causes a dip of disappointment to settle in my gut, but it does. I’ve never considered what it might be like to sleep next to Ryder. The only time we even got close was that first night we met, but there wasn’t much sleeping…
Now, I can’t help but imagine how my small body would fit so nicely tucked into his.
How he’d wrap those broad arms around me and rest his angular chin gently on my head.
I wonder if I’d fall swiftly to sleep or be too enamored by his scent and the sound of his soothing heartbeats to give in to unconsciousness.
“That really isn’t necessary,” I say in no particular tone as we go to his room.
In the months since I’ve moved here, I’ve never been in Ryder’s room. It had felt like crossing a boundary since we were only just getting to know each other.
The king-sized bed has a glass table on either side of it and a dresser across from it with a small television.
There’s a door to the bathroom on my right, but absolutely nothing personalizing the room.
There are no pictures, decorations, or signs of the man living here besides the smell of pineapple and bergamot.
“Really,” I say with a small step back, “I still need my clothes—”
I’m cut off when he releases my arm to reach behind his back and pull his shirt over his head.
I’m stunned into silence as I take in the wonder that is Ryder’s body.
His chest is sculpted to perfection, from the sharp lines defining each and every muscle to the black hairs dusting his pecs and trailing from his belly button down past the hem of his pants.
Ryder clears his throat, which is when I realize he’s been holding out his shirt to me since he took it off. I wonder for all of one second if he noticed my less-than-subtle gawking, but the knowing smile answers that question for me.
“Might as well change into more of mine,” he muses, and I’m about to ask what he means when I remember what I’m wearing.
I only put on his t-shirt and ridiculously large sweatpants because all of my clothes felt too tight against my stomach. They were folded in a neat pile on the dryer in our small laundry room, so I’d taken them, figuring he wouldn’t mind.
Now that his eyes rake over the outfit as if I’m the one who just took off my shirt, I know I was right. He doesn’t mind one bit. If anything, the possessive look makes me think he likes having me in his clothes.
But that only confuses my jumbled thoughts more, so I can’t bring myself to take his shirt.
“I can go get my own clothes.”
“I don’t want you around the paint fumes.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’ve been around them all day long.”
“And if I’d known that, I would’ve stopped it sooner.”
“Paint fumes have an extremely low chance of harming an unborn baby. Pregnant women paint nurseries all the—”
“A low chance is still a chance. You’re not going in there. I’ll have someone finish the job tomorrow. Until then, you’ll stay in here.”
“This is insane, Ryder.” I step toward the door, but two strong arms stop me before I can reach for the handle. Before I know what’s happening, my back is pressed against the wall, both of Ryder’s arms caging me in as he towers over me.
“As I said earlier, this is my baby inside of you. If you’re going to be reckless, I’ll have no choice but to keep you handcuffed to me for the remainder of this pregnancy.”
“You don’t get to play caveman with me,” I say, in a tone far softer than I intend.
“Until this baby is born, I do.” His eyes skate down my body with awe that makes me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. “And maybe even after.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to question him, to challenge his so-called claim over me, but it would be a lie, and we both know it. So, instead of fighting a losing battle, I yield to the burning temptation that I have resisted too damn long.
I kiss him.
I have to stand on tiptoes to reach, but it doesn’t matter. Our lips meet with all the fervor they had earlier today, and his arms pull me closer to him.
I pull him down and let my tongue explore his mouth with the same passion he does. My hands arduously trace his bare chest like I could memorize every ripple of his abs. The muscles flex beneath my touch as I soak in every inch of him.
Why would he want you? There is absolutely nothing remarkable about you.
“Stop it,” Ryder snaps, ripping his lips from mine and catching his breath as he searches my dumbfounded gaze.
The sudden loss of his lips combined with the two-word demand leaves me with absolutely no idea what I’m supposed to say. Did I do something wrong?
Ryder narrows his eyes. “Whatever thoughts are trying to steal you from me. Stop it.”
My jaw goes slack. “How do you—”
“It’s not hard to tell, Rebel. You start losing yourself, and I’m not letting you get lost. What were you thinking?”
I shake my head.
The voice that has terrorized me throughout my life has been quiet lately, but not silent.
And right now, it has a point.
Ryder and I hooked up for weeks, and I never once felt nervous or insecure, but that was before I was pregnant.
Before my stomach was streaked with stretchmarks.
Before my feet stopped fitting in all of my shoes.
Before I had to pop antacids every hour to keep the heartburn at bay.
Before my face rounded with swelling I can’t control.
Before my skin started breaking out with hormonal acne for the first time since my teen years.
Before I ate three bowls of cereal a day because it’s the only thing that sounds good.
Then there’s Ryder—whose body is the perfect result of daily time in the gym, a healthy diet, and genetics I’m grateful our daughter is getting.
I look hilariously out of Ryder’s league.
“You’re doing it again,” Ryder says in a low tone that resembles a warning. He strokes my cheek. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”
Pointing out the obvious differences in our physiques will only result in him trying to flatter me, so I ask the question I’ve wondered about for months.
“Why me?”
He arches an eyebrow.
“You picked me in the club because you were attracted to me. Then I got pregnant, so I understand why you feel obligated to stick around, but what I don’t understand is why you still want me. I don’t—I’m not the same as I was before I was pregnant,” I say, gesturing to my body.
Ryder’s eyes narrow, and I wish I hadn’t said anything. I definitely ruined whatever moment we were having with stupid thoughts that don’t matter anyway.
Slowly, Ryder drops to his knees. His hands run down my body as he does, stopping at my waist. His face is level with my swollen stomach.
“If you’re asking me if my desire for you is solely based on physical attraction, then I owe you an apology for not making my intentions clearer. This pregnancy isn’t an obligation, forcing me to stick around—it’s the perfect excuse for never letting you out of my life.”
My heart feels like it jumps to my throat, and I swallow hard, but it’s unmoving.
“I approached you in the club because you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, but that isn’t why I can’t stay away from you.”
“Then, why?” I ask in a breathy whisper.
“Silence,” he says, as if that’s answer enough.
It isn’t, and my questioning gaze says as much.
A small smile touches his lips. “Most people find silence uncomfortable. They’d rather fill it with idle conversation than face potential discomfort.
I happen to be quite fond of silence, and I think that how a person reacts to it says a lot about them and what they’re looking for.
Usually, it’s validation, praise, or just someone to listen to them, but that night we met, you never bothered to fill the silence. ”
He lifts a hand to my face to trail his thumb along my bottom lip. “For the first time, I wanted someone’s words. It drove me crazy that I couldn’t figure out what you wanted from me.”
“And have you figured it out?”
His smile is wide as he answers, “My incredible genetics.”
I push at his shoulders with an eye roll, but he doesn’t move an inch as he laughs.
When his melodic laugh subsides, he brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. Sincerity burns through the humor as his eyes shine with certainty.
“Peace, Rebel. I think your head is loud, and I help quiet it—at least, I did before tonight, but I suppose that’s my fault for not being clear enough.
So, let me be perfectly transparent now.
” He takes my face between his warm hands.
“You were beautiful the night we met, but the little black dress and golden heels are nothing compared to the sight of your pregnant belly, wearing my clothes, with pink paint in your hair.” He lifts the paint-specked lock of hair in front of my face with a dashing smile.
I swat his hand away, and he laughs again.
“Rachel Lance, what I feel for you is not obligation. It is desire, wholehearted attraction, and a need that I am not convinced I can live without.”
I don’t trust that the tears filling my eyes will stay there, so instead of answering, I kiss him again.
My arms wrap around his neck, and I close the remaining distance between us. He responds in kind, pulling me in by the waist and pinning me to him.
When he rises, lifting me bridal-style, I break our kiss only long enough to say, “But your incredible genetics are a nice bonus.”
I decide right then that there’s nothing better than the sound of Ryder’s laughter as he carries me off to bed.