Chapter 30
CHAPTER
THIRTY
RYAN
My eyes feel like sandpaper as Adam curls against my side. Looking up at the ceiling, I wonder if I can do this. If I can wake up and face this day when all I want to do is stay in this bed and cry some more.
The quiet click of the conference room door was deafening. I just knew the way Grover moved that it was over. That we were done. And it hurts in every cell of my body.
Even when I walked away from him the first time, I didn’t think it was over. I still held hope that one day, we would find one another again. Maybe when I was a bit more mature, and he had sowed all the oats he needed to.
But I was a fool and naive as always. Because Grover wasn’t sowing wild oats at thirty-five years old. And I wasn’t immature as much as I was an enabler for my sister. Craving love and attention, then I was terrified and alone.
And now, six years later, I’m still terrified and alone. Except I’m not as naive as I once was. I’m no longer allowing myself to be an enabler, but I still crave love. The only difference is that I’m not willing to accept the crumbs Grover has to offer, at least not on his terms.
He can be angry with me all he wants. But if he can’t see why I did what I did, why I’ve always done what I’ve done, if he can’t see the good, loyal woman I am, then I don’t want him like that.
Not anymore.
I’m also a liar.
Because if he walked into this bedroom and told me to forget everything that happened yesterday, I would welcome him back with open arms. Without a doubt, I am a liar. I keep secrets and lie. It’s what I do, apparently.
“Morning, Mama.”
Adam’s sleepy voice breaks through my thoughts. Turning my head, I look over at him. He’s awake, his eyes finding mine, and a smile plays on his lips. Lifting my hand, I run my fingers through his hair at the side of his head.
“Morning, are you ready to go back home today?” I ask.
He snuggles closer, and I welcome the moment because I know that one day, this will all be just a memory. He’ll grow up and won’t want to lie beside his mom and snuggle. He won’t want my fingers running through his hair.
Nothing but a memory.
Gently scratching his scalp as I continue to run my fingers through his hair, I search his gaze with my own and hope that I’m giving him the life he needs, that he deserves, and that I’m not screwing everything up all over again.
“I am,” he says. “It’s loud here.”
He’s right. It is loud here. Adam hasn’t ever been in overly loud and stimulating places other than school. At home, it’s always been just the two of us, and I’m sure the loud music, the party, it was all too much for him.
“Let’s get up, and maybe there will be something good for breakfast downstairs before we leave,” I offer with a smile.
“Maybe more desserts from Miss Shawn,” he says, his voice overly hopeful.
I laugh because I love her desserts as well, but I don’t need them this morning. I had enough yesterday. In fact, judging by the way my shorts are fitting a little tighter than they were before I came here, I’ve had enough of her desserts in general.
“Maybe no desserts for breakfast today. How about some eggs and toast?”
Adam lets out a heavy sigh and rolls onto his back. “Yeah,” he grumbles, which makes me laugh again as I sit up, tossing my legs over the side of the bed.
I don’t want to stay here and make breakfast. I want to go home. I want to get as far away from Grover as possible, but I also know that Adam will ask questions. So, I’m trying to act as normal as possible.
Even though my heart is shattered, and my eyes are swollen from the tears I cried all night long. I’m exhausted. I could sleep for a whole month at this point. Everything has been so emotional lately. I just want to breathe and rest.
Grover got rid of Golden Joker, so I feel like I can finally do just that—breathe and rest. Except now he’s given me this new stress. Although, this one I can’t do anything about. It’s done. He’s finished with me, and that’s that. I should just get over it.
All easier said than done.
How do you simply get over someone who you have loved since you were eighteen, someone who you created a life with?
It’s not like he’s going to go anywhere.
It’s not like I can run away. Not again.
I have to stick it out this time. Adam is his son, and he deserves to know him, even if he hates me while he does it.
A few moments later, Adam and I are in the kitchen together, rummaging through the fridge, when the door swings open. Turning my head, I look to find King making his way into the room. He’s wearing a pair of jeans and nothing else, his hair a fucking mess and a smile playing on his lips.
“Morning, Ryan,” he says, his voice soft and rough from sleep.
“Morning, I’m going to make some eggs. There are a couple dozen here. Do you want some?”
His gaze flicks to the egg carton in my hand, then shifts up to meet mine. “Eggs after drinking what I just did?” he asks. “I’m good, but thanks.”
Laughing, I turn toward the counter and start to crack eggs into a bowl. King moves around behind me. I hear him murmur to Adam, and a few minutes later, he’s gone. Scrambling the eggs, I ask Adam if he would like cheese on his.
“Yes, please, ma’am,” he calls out.
Moving to the fridge, I take out a block of white cheddar cheese and get to work grating it so I can sprinkle it on the eggs after they’re finished cooking.
And that’s how Grover finds us.
Adam is at the kitchen counter, watching me as he swings his legs.
Then there’s me, with my back to the door, scrambling eggs.
I know it’s Grover. I can feel his eyes on my back as he watches me.
There is something about him. I know when he enters a room and when he leaves it. I can feel it down to my core.
“I’m making eggs before we leave if you want some,” I call out.
“Before you leave?” he asks.
His voice is rough and soft, just like King’s was, indicating that he’s hungover. I almost laugh because he was plain trashed last night. I almost hope he doesn’t remember anything, but I know Grover well enough to know he does.
“You know, go home. We don’t need to spend another night here. Everything is taken care of, right?” I ask, turning to look over my shoulder at him.
He’s standing with a cup of coffee in his hand, shirtless, his jeans just up to his hips and zipped but not buttoned. His full tattoos are on display, and I want to lick them all. Every single black line of them.
“Home,” he says, his voice gravelly.
“Home,” I whisper.
And without another word, he turns and walks out of the kitchen.
I finish the eggs, leaving them on a plate and calling out to whoever wants them in the bar before I sit beside Adam and eat my plate of food.
Not long after we’re finished eating, Adam and I do exactly what I said we would. We head home.
I take a long, hot shower, change into something comfortable, and decide that this is my absolute last day of ever feeling sorry for myself. Tomorrow begins a new day and a new life. I’m going to embrace it all and figure out what I’m meant for in this world.
Whatever that is going to be, I know I’m not meant to be Grover’s wife.
The thought causes my breath to hitch, but I shake my head and move past it. I’m going to have to get over it all. Move on completely, at least in my personal love life. Which is going to be interesting with Grover watching my every move and acting as if he has a say in anything I do.
ATOMIC
As much as I want to watch Ryan move through my gourmet clubhouse kitchen as if she was created to belong there, belong in my life, I don’t. I can’t. Turning from her, I move out of the kitchen and head into my office.
The place is a fucking mess from, well… fucking.
It takes me a good fifteen minutes to get everything picked up off the floor and reorganized, but when I’m finished, you can’t even tell that I fucked Ryan here last night. That I was so fucking drunk that I could hardly stand, that I broke her heart and her spirit here.
I know I did just that, too. I could see it behind her eyes this morning in that kitchen.
I could hear it when she said the word home.
Leaning back in my chair, I stare at the ceiling for a moment.
I feel fucking tired, but only because I woke up with a head-pounding hangover.
I slept. As soon as my head hit the pillow of one of the guest rooms, I passed the fuck out.
“She’s gone, and her sister is still detoxing alone in that holding room,” King announces as he walks through my door. “Also, what are you doing with her?”
“Ellen?” I ask, then answer before he can say a word. “That bitch is dying today. I’m pissed off and hungover enough to handle her ass.”
Standing, I push my chair backward with my thighs slightly as I look at him from across the room. King’s brows lift, but he doesn’t speak. I watch as he takes a step forward, then pauses.
He’s going to say something. I know he is, and I’m pretty sure I’m not going to like it.
“And Ryan?” he asks.
I almost blow the fuck up, but I decide against it. I need to stay calm when it comes to Ryan. I’ve already let her not only get under my skin but also inside my heart, and enough is enough when it comes to that.
“Let me worry about my personal shit, King.”
“I’m not asking as your vice president. I’m asking as your brother.”
Clearing my throat, I shake my head once. “And I’m telling you, as your brother and your president, that it’s not your fucking business.”
King lifts his hands, his palms facing me in innocence. “You got it under control,” he mutters. “I won’t say another word without being asked.”
“And you won’t be asked. Wanna get rid of this bitch with me?”
King shrugs a shoulder. “I’ll go with you, but I won’t end her. That’s your vendetta.”
It sure as fuck is.
Together, the two of us make our way toward the holding room. The prospect standing guard dips his chin to us, then steps to the side. Together, King and I walk into the room, and when I’m halfway toward Ellen, I freeze.
She’s on the floor, curled into a ball, but her skin is a different color. It’s turned a blueish hue. Moving closer to her, I call out her name, but she doesn’t even flinch. I crouch down in front of her, reach out, and touch her arm. She’s cold to the touch.
Turning to look at King over my shoulder, I straighten my knees and stand. “She’s gone.”
His brows lift, his eyes widen, and he clears his throat. “What the fuck?”
“Probably having to do with her detox. She’d been on something every day from the time she turned fourteen. And as she’s gotten older, she’s gone from expensive drugs to the cheapest shit she could turn a trick for.”
“Fucking Ellen. She was fucking beautiful back in the day,” King murmurs.
“She was. But she was a fucking mess, and she tried to bring Ryan down time and time again.”
King doesn’t speak, but he does lift his hand, wrapping his fingers around my shoulder before he gently gives me a tug. We stand in silence for a moment, thinking about Ellen, about the girl she was when she walked into this clubhouse thirteen years ago.
She was here for two years before Ryan walked in after her. Always chasing her big sister in an attempt to save her. And Ellen was always manipulating Ryan in some way for her own gain.
Fuck.
Ryan was just so goddamn naive, such a fucking enabler. It pisses me off that I didn’t try to stop that shit earlier. I was so fucking selfish. My only focus aside from the club was my dick and definitely not the welfare of my woman.
“She did, but Ryan never fell to her level. Not even when she made shit decisions in an effort to save her sister,” I murmur.
And it’s the goddamn truth of it. Ryan never became Ellen, no matter how hard the bitch tried.
I think I might have fucked up, and I’m not quite sure how to fix it.
“Apologize,” King mutters.
I don’t realize I’ve said the words out loud, but I have. Turning my head, I look at him, arching a brow, my lips twitching into a smirk.
“Have you ever done that?” I ask.
He leans back on his heels, a full smile playing on his lips now. “Brother,” he begins, “I ain’t fucked up bad enough to issue a full fucking apology. You might even have to grovel.”
Fuck.