23. Ryder
Chapter 23
Ryder
I spent the next morning with my roommates as I packed for my trip the following day, telling them everything. I didn’t go into as many details as I had with Knox and Finn, but it was enough, and they understood why I’d been so off.
I got a lot of hugs and reassurance, along with Luna trying to talk me into meditating. Perhaps when I got back, I would.
Knox had a car waiting for me to take me to Reagan International Airport, where I caught a flight out to Omaha. I planned to call an Uber to take me home.
The flight was only three hours, but Knox was sweet enough to put me into first class so I could fly in comfort. I may have had a few drinks to calm my nerves.
It was a busy time of year for our farm, with corn harvesting happening between September and November. We didn’t have a massive farm, about three hundred and twenty acres, but it was big enough to have workers helping in the field. Because it was mid-October, the corn would probably still be there. Father usually harvested around then.
My parents knew I was coming. The relief was palpable when I talked to them over the phone. You could hear it in their voices, which only sent another wave of guilt through me, but I was more prepared this time than I had been the last time. As soon as Bryce’s trial had ended, I fled back to DC.
When the plane landed, I grabbed my carry-on and made my way through the small airport to where I’d grab a car. However, when I passed the baggage claim, I stopped in my tracks, my heart suddenly stopping.
My parents came.
As soon as I saw them, my lip trembled, and my eyes watered. They, too, were barely holding it together as they held each other.
When I stepped up to them, they both lunged at me and pulled me into a hug as Mom sobbed.
“I’m so sorry,” was all I could say. Those were the only words I could get out.
Dad drove us to the farm thirty minutes away, and we all sat in an awkward silence. At least, it was for me. I stared out the window at all the farmland, and the trees were starting to change color. The sun hovered lower in the sky as it got ready to set, casting a warm glow over the landscape.
When we pulled up to the house, my heart beat a little faster as my entire childhood flashed in my mind, including those memories with Rowan.
Once inside, I left my carry-on by the stairs and made my way to the kitchen, where Mom shoved a casserole into the oven.
Fuck, the kitchen made everything even worse. It was where we spent countless meals, talking, laughing, getting lectured… But mostly, Rowan was just a ghost in every nook and cranny of this house. How could my parents stand being here? All I wanted to do was run away from it again. It was suffocating.
The place looked exactly the same, with white curtains, pale yellow walls, and white cabinetry. The farmhouse was nearly a hundred years old, but they fixed it up as much as their money allowed.
In fact, I asked them that very question. “How can you stand being here with memories of Rowan everywhere?”
Mom gasped with her back to me, staring out the kitchen window as the sun started to set, while Dad sat at the kitchen table, grinding his jaw. My parents were in their early fifties, but they looked so much older. Did grief do that? When you lose a child, do you age? Did I?
Dad stood, went to the fridge, pulled out two bottles of beer, and poured Mom a glass of some white wine. As dinner warmed up, we all sat down at the table.
Mom tucked a fallen strand of dark hair, threaded with gray, behind her ear. It had gotten longer, and she had most of it pulled back into a hair clip. Dad’s hair was grayer and thinner.
Rowan and I looked more like Mom, with her hazel eyes, but my sister had a few more features from our dad, like his thicker brows and stronger nose. Regardless, everyone in town could tell we were siblings.
Mom sniffed and took a sip of her wine. “Because it’s all we have left of her… and you. You’re alive, but you’re… not here anymore. You didn’t just move away. You left us. I know why you did it. Sometimes I just want to run, too, but… we lost two children that day.”
Dad said nothing, burying his emotions deeper than I ever could.
My eyes leaked, and I stood abruptly to grab a paper towel and dry my eyes. I snagged my beer bottle and drank half of it back.
“I didn’t just run because I was in pain, but because I blamed myself for her death.”
Dad protested, and Mom stood to comfort me, but I held out my hand. “Please, if you touch me again, I’m going to crumble into dust.”
“How can this possibly be your fault?” Dad said, a bit too aggressively. I loved him, but he’d always been intense, which was another reason I’d never come out to my parents. “Bryce did this. Not you.”
“Because Rowan made me keep quiet about his behavior. She said you liked him a lot, and she made excuses for his outbursts and aggressiveness. I tried to get her to leave him all the damn time, but she always talked herself into staying. I’ve been holding on to this guilt for not telling you the truth. That if I had just spoken up, he wouldn’t have had a chance to kill her. But I always caved to Rowan. You knew they were fighting that night, but not that they were fighting all the time.”
I chugged back the rest of my beer and grabbed another. Between the drinks on the plane and the beer, I was getting buzzed already. “I should’ve fucking said something!”
Dad sighed heavily, and Mom sniffed. “Perhaps you should’ve told us.” I nodded and sipped my beer. He validated my belief that it had been my fault and one of the reasons I stayed away. “But even if we had known, she was a stubborn young lady. She wouldn’t have listened to us, either. Son, look at me.” I lifted my head as he met my eyes, locking our stare in place. “You telling us wouldn’t have changed the outcome.”
Mom stood with her arms out. “Ryder, please, don’t hold on to this. It wasn’t your fault. You don’t need to run anymore.”
I set my bottle down and finally fell into my mother’s arms as the sobs came out. “It’s… why I’m here. It’s been so hard to breathe and live, and I’ve missed you both.”
Dad stood and held us in his muscular bear arms. “We’re glad you made it back to us, son.”
Another person I’d completely avoided was my best friend, Waylon West, and someone I had crushed on for the better part of a decade. It never affected our friendship, and I was happy to have it until I lost Rowan. I hadn’t just run from my family, but from my friends. It was just easier to shut everyone out.
After fixing shit with my parents, it was time to fix things with Waylon.
I sat on the front porch of my house in the late morning and watched as he drove his blue pickup truck along the dusty drive. I took a sip from the can of soda to wash away the lump in my throat.
The day was brisk and cloudy, with threats of rain later in the afternoon.
He turned off his truck and hopped out, walking toward me wearing bootcut jeans, cowboy boots, and a blue-and-black plaid shirt over a white Henley. His light brown hair was tousled, which he combed back from his face with long fingers, exposing his gorgeous pale blue eyes. The dimple in his chin had always been a favorite of mine.
Waylon was even taller than Knox, standing at six-foot-six. He wasn’t massively broad, but I’d always loved his bigger size, fantasized about him controlling me… taking me. He was the epitome of masculine beauty, but in a rugged way, not as smooth around the edges as Finn was.
But those days were over. There were flickering feelings for him still. How could there not be after a decade? But Knox and Finn were mine now. I loved them, and I was perfectly happy to be in their lives. It couldn’t have happened any other way.
When he stopped in front of me, I set down my can on the porch and stood with my hands shoved into my jeans as the surge of guilt for not staying in touch coursed through me.
“Hey,” I said.
“Fuck you,” he hissed, making me wince. “Fuck your ‘ hey .’ It’s been a year, Rye, and you just call me out of the blue to tell me you’re in town. What the hell?”
I stared down at my feet, having no words to justify my actions. To my surprise, strong arms enveloped me and pulled me into a bear hug, squeezing the literal breath out of me.
“I missed you, asshole.”
I also wrapped my arms around him. “God, I missed you. I’m so damn sorry, Way.”
We let go of each other, and he gave me a hard, blue stare. “You’re going to tell me what the hell happened to you after the funeral. Let’s go over to the barn there and talk.”
I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jeans again and followed Waylon.
We both sat on the fence and stared out at the field that had cows instead of the usual wheat, letting it go fallow.
“Talk to me,” he said.
“Six months ago was the trial. I came back for that, but I just… I couldn’t stay here. Rowan is in every damn fiber of this place, so I ran. It wasn’t just you I abandoned, but my parents. I buried myself in the big city of DC, hid like a coward, blaming myself for what happened to her.”
“Jesus… It wasn’t your fault, Rye. I miss her, too, you know, and I missed you.”
“Tell that to my soul. I’ll never forgive myself for not doing more.”
“What’s changed? Why are you back then?”
“You’re the only one here who knows about my bisexuality. Rowan knew, but… Anyway, I’ve met a couple of men who have helped heal me in a way. I’m not all fixed, but they’ve given me hope that I’ll be happy again. I’m definitely happier until my crash on the anniversary of my sister’s murder.”
“Men?”
I nodded and swallowed. It was one thing to come out as bi. It was another to admit you were in a polyamorous relationship. “Yeah, I’m seeing two men. They were a couple before me, but they brought me into their fold. I hadn’t expected to fall in love or be in a relationship with them, but here I am. And they love me back. I know it’s… unusual, but I love it.”
“It’s definitely different. I’m not sure how folks around here will take that, but I still like you. I’m still fucking pissed at you for ditching us, but we’ll always be friends, Rye.”
“Thanks, Way. I’m here to fix shit with not only my parents, but with you, too. I’m not moving back, but I’ll try to stay in touch more and visit as much as I can. You can always come to see me, too.”
He bumped my shoulder, and I looked at him and smiled. “It’s good to see you. You look like shit, though.”
I huffed a laugh. “Yeah, it’s been a rough few days. I had a massive relapse in my grief.”
“Because you didn’t face it. You ran.”
I nodded. “Truth. I just didn’t know how to face it. She wasn’t just my sister. She was my twin. When she died, I lost half of myself.”
“I totally get that. You two were really close, too.”
We sat in silence for a while, a chilly breeze blowing through us. I shivered a little, wearing only a flannel button-up. I smiled inwardly, thinking that Finn would lose his mind seeing me in country wear.
My mind mulled over whether I should tell him the truth about how I felt about him and whether it would serve any purpose. Not to tell him so I could gauge his reaction and see how he felt, but to be fully transparent from now on—no more hiding shit.
“I had this huge crush on you for years.”
Waylon chuckled, surprising me. “No shit. I had no idea. It was obvious from the start, Rye. You suck at playing poker. When you told me you were bi, I thought you would ask me out or some shit, but you never did. I mean, you know I’m straight, but I was kind of hurt that you didn’t.” His laugh was self-deprecating. “It’s weird, right? But it never bothered me, man. I’m just glad we stayed friends, and I’m glad you’re here so we can move forward.”
My face bloomed red. “God, I had no idea I was that obvious. Well… thanks for taking it so well.”
Waylon hopped off the fence. “I gotta head to work. I was supposed to be at the farm earlier, but they let me come in late so I could see you.”
I hopped off with him, and he pulled me into another suffocating hug. All that throwing hay did his muscles good.
“It’s good to see you, Rye. When are you headed back?”
“In a few days.”
“Cool. Then we should grab a couple of beers before you go.”
“Sounds good, Way. And… thank you for forgiving me.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
I watched him walk away, full of feelings of love for him, but now it was a different kind of love—a brotherly love.