36. Ryan
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Ryan
For two days straight, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. The noises she made, how her pussy felt wrapped tightly around my dick, how gorgeous she looked underneath me. I’ve also neatly catalogued the details I now know about her in my head.
Being in her house gave me a peek into her mind.
Her home is warm and colorful. It’s also filled with plants, which all look very well taken care of.
Her kitchen is full of character, with random pieces coming together in perfect harmony.
It’s a beautiful space and exactly what I’d want from my own home.
Coincidentally, I haven’t had a headache for two days straight, either.
I throw a pair of sports shorts into my padel bag and zip up my hoodie. On my way out of the house, Mom calls me from the kitchen.
“Have you got time for a coffee?” she asks, reaching out a cup for me.
I check my watch before responding, “Maybe a minute. What’s up?”
“Just a mom wanting to check on her son. I know I’m not around much these days.” She’s been spending most of her time with Roger.
“I’m an adult, Mom. I don’t need you to take care of me.” A sip of hot coffee makes its way down my throat.
“I’ll always want to take care of you. Speaking of, how is your head?” Her voice is casual, but the look in her eyes screams worry.
“Better,” I say, and this time I’m not lying. “I hardly ever feel it.”
Mom’s shoulders loosen, a relieved sigh escaping her. “Is it her?” The cup she lifts to her mouth doesn’t hide her smirk.
“Who?” I act dumb.
“My dear stepdaughter.” She purses her lips to let me know she’s not buying my shit.
“No idea what you’re talking about.” I check my watch again. “I should go if I don’t want to be late.”
“Mhm,” she hums, letting me get all the way to the hallway before adding, “Be a dear and let Paige know I’d love her help with choosing a wedding dress.”
I open my mouth to respond, but there’s nothing to tell. I could deny everything, which would be a lie. Or I could pretend I hadn’t heard what she said and leave. Walking out of the house is a simple decision.
An hour and a half later, Parker and I emerge victorious, though my chest heaves and my face is wet with exertion.
“Better luck next time, suckers,” he tells Oliver and Wes, shaking their hands. Oliver rolls his eyes at him, and Parker pats my back. “I have to admit, you’re a much better player when you’re getting some.”
I shake my head while Oliver lets out a chuckle.
He’s not fully wrong. I was on fire today.
Though I suppose it has more to do with not having my body drained by pain.
We head into the lockers, and instead of grabbing his things for the shower, Parker places his stuff into his back and zips it shut.
He notices my raised eyebrows. “I know, I know. You hoped I’d stay for drinks. But unfortunately, no can do. I need to get back home as soon as possible, so I’ll have to shower there.”
“Nanny problems?” Wes asks.
“That would suggest I actually have a nanny, and that is currently not the case.”
“Again?” I throw my dirty shirt into the bag, pulling a clean towel out.
After Chrissy’s long-term nanny retired months ago, Parker had terrible luck finding a new one.
There’s been ones who were batshit crazy, ones who have waited naked in Parker’s bed for him to come home or he found them sniffing his underwear (we made a different category, though they were definitely also batshit crazy), and ones who couldn’t handle Chrissy’s personality.
Chrissy is an amazing, smart kid, but she sometimes lacks filter.
A professional should be able to handle an eight-year-old’s comments, but that hadn’t been the case thus far.
“Yup. I don’t know what I’m going to do if I don’t find the right one soon.
” With Parker’s twenty-four-hour firefighter shifts and the fact that he’s a single dad, the nanny has to live with them at least a few nights a week so they can take care of Chrissy overnight. “I won’t be able to do my job.”
There’s a sadness to his voice, one that forces my throat to constrict. Unlike me, Parker loves his job. He knew he wanted to be a firefighter since middle school, and he never gave that up. He’d be devastated to leave it, but he would if it meant taking better care of his daughter.
“Fuck, man,” Wes murmurs.
Oliver simply glances down. Being married to Parker’s sister, and them often jumping in for childcare, he knows the story better than all of us.
“You know I’m here, basically jobless, ready to take care of her whenever you need?” I add.
“I know, and I’m looking forward to your sleepover, trust me.
But we still need to find a permanent solution.
” He waves me off. “I’ll figure something out.
Don’t forget to read the book for our next meeting.
” His smile firmly back in place, he throws the gym bag over his shoulder. “See you next week.”
The three of us shower, before Oliver announces he’s leaving, too. He rarely stays for drinks, so it’s not surprising.
“Are you in a hurry, too?” I ask Wes as he ties his sneakers.
“No, I have time. Besides, there’s something I need to tell you.” He swallows audibly after that ominous sentence, and I’m on edge until the moment we sit down at the cafe and order our coffees.
I don’t push him, letting him start at his own pace.
“Remember the time I told you my mom was doing some scans a few weeks ago?” he eventually asks.
“I do.” I’ve thought about that plenty of times in the meantime but decided not to probe.
“Well, the results came back.” His fingers fidget, ramping my nerves up. “She has cancer.”
“Fuck, man. I’m so sorry.” A rock settles in my stomach.
“They found a lump in her breast and they know it’s not good. They’re doing more tests now before they decide on a treatment plan.” His voice is low, as if he’s afraid it’ll break.
“How are you feeling?”
“Numb.” He huffs a laugh. “I don’t know. I haven’t been sleeping much, going over every single research article there is, but the doctors still don’t know enough to make predictions. They’re being cautious.”
“Of course. How is she handling it?”
“As well as you might think. On one hand, she’s smiling from ear to ear, trying to convince me she’s fine, but on the other, I caught her on her way to make her will the other day, so…”
“Fuck, that’s dark. But it will be fine, right? They have plenty of options?” I don’t know if I’m asking him or telling him.
“They do. And hopefully, they discovered it early enough. It still sucks, though.” He offers a sad smile.
“Of course it sucks. I’m here for you, whatever you need.”
“I know. Just don’t tell Parker yet. He’d go into Dad mode, trying to make everything better, and I’m not ready for it now.”
“Sure. I won’t say a thing.”
He drops a twenty onto the table and rises from his chair. “I have to get going.”
“Yeah, me too,” I say, though my day is wide open.
We say goodbye, and I watch him leave for the parking lot, mulling over my thoughts. Wes, Parker, and I are all thirty-years-old. Parker has adult problems, like caring for his daughter. Wes is coming to painful terms that his mother is sick. And me? I don’t have a plan in the world.
I’m wracking my brain trying to figure out why my head is sending me messages in the form of debilitating pain, instead of working on making something of my life. I still have no idea what I want to do as a career now that I’m back, but there is one thing my mind and body both want.
Paige.
What am I doing here?
Before starting the car, I type out a text.
Me
Hi, are you free today?
Paige
Depends. What do you have in mind?
Me
I think I need some plants. Can you please help me find something?
I have thought long and hard—no pun intended—about how I could take Paige on something resembling a date. I figured plants were a surefire way, but the silence that stretches isn’t reassuring. Finally, my phone beeps.
Paige
Fine. I’ll drive so that Linda doesn’t see you. Let me know when and where.
A relieved breath whooshes out of me. She doesn’t sound thrilled, but she said yes, which is enough for now.
A couple of hours later, I’m squeezing into Paige’s compact car. She’s dressed casually, in light jeans and a white t-shirt. There’s not a speck of makeup on her face, not that she needs it. My heart does a tiny little leap in my chest, anyway.
“Hi, thanks for picking me up,” I tell her.
“Oh, hi.” She flushes. “No problem. Where are we going?”
I type in the address into her GPS, highly aware that the whole car smells like her. It’s a light, fruity smell, one that brings a smile to my face.
“Oh, we’re going to The Forest? It’s my favorite store,” she glances at me, awarding me with one of her gorgeous smiles.
I suppress the need to pump my fist in the air. It took me some effort to find the best place for plants around here, and I’m glad it paid off. “Yeah? I’ve never been.”
“Really? You’re going to love it.” Her grin is infectious. “So, does searching for plants mean you’ve found a house you’re going to buy?”
Busted. “Erm, not exactly. But I’d like to hear your recommendations. I love how homey you made your place.”
She narrows her eyes at me, probably deliberating my intentions.
Truth be told, I don’t need plants. I’m currently living in my high school bedroom, in a house that is still decorated the same way it was when I was a baby.
I have no plans of making that place a permanent home.
She loves plants, though. And I loved hearing her geek out about them in the Bahamas.
“So this is a purely educational trip?”
“If you’re convincing enough, I might still buy a plant or two.”
Her lips pull into a smirk that stays on the entire trip to the plant shop. There’s a spark in her eyes, one that hits me straight in the chest.
“Come,” she says as we enter the shop, wrapping her hand around mine to pull me in the right direction.
Her hand is soft and warm, and I love the feel of it. What the hell is happening to me? I was so certain I didn’t want a relationship, and here I am, thinking about holding hands, my heart beating faster because of her smile.
The store is a jungle. It’s half-covered and half-not, adapting to the needs of various plants.
Unlike what I expected, it’s not filled with neat shelves adorned with potted houseplants.
Instead, it houses what must be a million different plants, bushes, and trees.
A small selection of them are potted but the vast majority are planted in the ground.
It’s more of a botanical garden than a store.
“If you choose a plant that isn’t potted, they will dig it up for you. But the babies prefer this over small pots,” Paige says, as if reading my mind. “The plants are sectioned by their natural habitat’s climates, and they try to make them feel as close to home as possible.”
Our hands still linked, she leads me to the part where there’s a thick fog of humidity present in the air, with sounds of birds and other animals blasting through the speakers.
“This is my favorite section.” Her eyes travel the space with wonder. “The plants here are thick and deep green, which is my favorite color.”
“It looks like the ,” I comment, taking in the sight.
“Well, it’s the closest thing to here in California.”
She explains all the different vegetation species, sharing fun facts about them. I listen closely, entranced by her obvious passion for the subject. We exit the jungle section, and she turns her head toward me, a sheepish expression on her face.
“I kind of hijacked the conversation, didn’t I?”
I let out a chuckle. “You did, but I kind of love it.”
The corners of her eyes crease with a warm, honest smile, expanding my chest. She slows her steps so that she walks beside me and slips her hands into her pockets.
“How’s your head been? Since we got back?”
“Honestly? It wasn’t too bad, even had a few headache-free days.” I don’t mention the fact that those days coincided with the days when I saw her or heard from her.
“I’m glad to hear that.” She flashes me a grin, her gaze dropping to the front. “I’ve been doing some research. I know there are plants that help with different ailments, and I wanted to check if there were some that could help with your problem.”
“Yeah?” My throat constricts at the thoughtfulness of her words. She put in effort to see if she could help me. That has to mean she cares about me, right?
“Yeah. Most of what I found isn’t directly connected to headaches, unfortunately, but some suggest it could help indirectly by affecting the air quality.”
“Sounds like it couldn’t hurt to try. Maybe I should buy a few.”
My hands are full as we exit The Forest after buying two plants for me and one for her.
She insisted she didn’t need any, but I convinced her I’d feel better if I thanked her for helping me today.
We secure the plants in her car and get into our seats.
It’s been over an hour since we got here, but I’m not ready for the day to be done yet.
“Are you hungry?” I ask as she starts the car.
She glances at me, hesitating for a second, before responding, “I could eat.”
“Good. We should get something to eat. I’m starving.”
“Where do you want to eat?”
“Oh, I know just the place.”
Ten minutes later, she parks the car in front of The Rusty Anchor. The broken neon sign hangs loosely above the entrance, the paint chipping off the weathered facade.
“What is this place?” she asks, unbuckling her seatbelt.
“You’ve never been to The Rusty Anchor?” I gasp, stepping out of the car.
“Should I?”
“Well, you’re a citizen of Fig Bay, aren’t you? You definitely should have.” I put out my elbow, and she wraps her arm around it. “But I’m honored to be the one to introduce you to the best bar in the area.”