Chapter 73 Storm Debris and Other Baggage
Storm Debris and Other Baggage
Tessa
Outside the coffee shop, my stomach knotted as I told Ryder, "I need to say something, and I'm worried you'll be mad."
He gave me a careful look. "How mad?"
I winced. "Actually, I don't know." I had just gotten off work, and both of us were standing just outside the coffee shop's rear door. For the first time in forever, I'd left the shop before Skip – but only because he'd fallen asleep in his recliner, and I hadn't bothered to wake him.
But I had locked everything up, so it wasn't like I'd abandoned him with a shop full of customers.
As for Ryder, he'd been waiting for me, just as we'd planned, which was almost surprising, considering I'd canceled our plans for lunch.
Perversely, this made it even harder for me to say what needed saying. He would almost surely be offended. The only question was how much.
As if reading my mind, Ryder said with a smile, "You do realize, you'll never know if you don't tell me." And even though he was smiling, something in his eyes suggested he was waiting to hear something crazy, like I'd just set the coffee shop on fire.
Then again, he'd probably love that, because it would finally push me to quit. Terrific. Now I'd be doubly disappointing him.
I glanced around before lowering my voice. "I've been thinking…"
"Yeah?"
"The thing with you and me – I'm kind of hoping we can keep it under wraps."
Confusion flashed across his face. "What do you mean?"
"You know…" I swallowed hard and finished in a rush. "That we're seeing each other. I just mean, we should probably keep it a secret."
Ryder blinked. Once. And then again. "Huh."
When he said nothing else, I shifted from foot to foot. "I'm guessing you want to know why, huh?"
He wasn't smiling anymore. "Sure, why not?" His words were casual, but his tone was anything but.
"It's because of my sister."
His voice grew flat. "Your sister."
"Yeah, Delaney."
"I know what her name is."
I cleared my throat. "Right." On the nearby sidewalk, tourists milled past, looking decidedly happier than I was, at least at the moment. I gestured vaguely toward the crowd. "Should we walk while we talk?" It was a reasonable suggestion. After all, we did have someplace to be.
With a humorless laugh, he asked, "You mean together? Or, with you a few paces behind?"
It was an obvious joke, so I tried to keep it light. "That's a little outdated, don't you think?"
"Alright. Then you walk ahead of me."
Joking or not, neither of us laughed.
I let out a long, weary sigh. "Just listen, okay? I love my sister, really, I do. But we haven't gotten along in ages, and I'm pretty sure I know why."
He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "Why?"
"The short version? She's jealous."
When Ryder opened his mouth to reply, I cut him off, feeling desperate to explain. "Listen, I know how that sounds."
He studied me for a beat. "Do you?"
"Totally." I forced a laugh. "I sound like a conceited snot."
Finally, his mouth softened just a little. "I wouldn't go that far."
"I would," I said. "But you haven't heard the most important part."
"Which is…?"
"It's not her fault. Or mine either." More softly, I added, "Not really."
His jaw tightened, but he didn't look away. "Go on."
"Growing up, my mom always favored me over her, and I guess I leaned into it, trying too hard to succeed while Delaney did just the opposite, getting into trouble any time she could.
So of course, the imbalance only grew." I gave Ryder a pleading look.
"By the time we hit high school, she hated me. "
Judging from his face, he wasn't buying it. "You don't know that."
"I do know that. And you wanna know why?"
"Why?"
"Because she told me." I gave a bitter scoff. "And not just once."
His eyebrows lifted. "And?"
And what? I didn't even know what he was looking for. "I'm just saying, it really sucked."
"And?" he repeated, like he was genuinely missing the point.
His reaction surprised me – and not in a good way. "So…you wanna know how this relates to us?"
"Sure," he said. "But that's not what I meant."
"So, what did you mean?"
"I mean, why do you care? People say stuff all the time."
The sentiment was so cold, I almost shivered. "Because she's my sister, that's why."
"Yeah, well…family's just a word." His voice hardened. "It doesn't guarantee anything."
Part of me got it, really got it. After all, my own mom had spent the last few years living down to my worst expectations, especially when it came to my sister. But unlike Ryder, I couldn't brush it off so easily. "It's not that simple," I told him. "And maybe there should be a guarantee."
"Yeah, along with money from the tooth fairy, too." He gave me a look. "You wanna guarantee that?"
"No." I bit back a sigh. "I'm not related to the tooth fairy." But I was related to a twisted tooth-fairy in reverse, meaning my mom, who'd plucked money from under Delaney's pillow and transferred it to me.
For rent.
Once Delaney found out – assuming she hadn't already – she'd probably never speak to me again if she also learned I'd used her meager funds while dating a guy with more money than Midas.
Ryder said, "Yeah. Me neither. That's the point."
I was so lost in my own thoughts, it took me a moment to catch his meaning. "So you are mad."
"Do I look it?"
It felt like a loaded question, and I wasn't sure how to respond. During the past minute or so, his expression had gone completely unreadable. Whatever he was feeling, he wasn't letting it show. Finally, I confessed, "Actually, I can't tell." I squinted at his face. "Maybe a little."
He looked away, watching as a horse-drawn carriage clomped past, carrying four people – an older couple on one side and a younger couple on the other. Both couples were snuggled nice and tight. And for some reason, that just made everything worse.
When Ryder returned his attention to me, his mouth had tightened. "So back to your sister. You were getting to a point?"
Just then, Skip burst out of the rear door like the coffee shop had caught fire. When he spotted me, he stopped short before marching closer to say, "Hey! Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"
"I would've," I said. "But you were asleep."
"But that's not my fault," he whined. "My finger's killing me." And then, as if to prove it, he lifted his hand and brandished the finger like a weapon – first at me, and then at Ryder.
Unfortunately, it was the middle one, which made the gesture incredibly insulting, especially with the finger-brace that made the obscene salute look twice as big.
Ryder gave him a look. "You should put that thing away before you hurt someone." And yet, something in his tone suggested that Skip would be the one getting hurt if he didn't cool it.
Skip dropped the hand and turned to me with a wounded little sniff. "And you didn't even ask how I hurt it."
"I didn't have to ask," I said. "You told me you hurt it in the storm."
"Yeah, but you could've asked for details." He looked to Ryder and grumbled, "I lost my favorite umbrella, too."
At this, Ryder grew very still. Slowly, he gritted out, "What color?"
Skip frowned. "You mean my umbrella? It was red – and extra-big, too."
Ryder prowled closer to say, "That thing almost killed her."
From the sidelines, I blurted out, "It did not." When Ryder shot me a look, I mumbled, "I just mean…I'm standing here breathing, aren't I?"
Skip perked up. "So you saw my umbrella?"
I didn't even know who he was asking. But Ryder looked more likely to strangle him than answer, so I replied, "Yes, actually. It was blowing across the street."
Skip frowned. "And you didn't grab it?"
Ryder cut in. "No, she didn't grab it. And you're lucky she's okay."
"How am I lucky?" Skip protested. "I still lost my umbrella." Once again, he lifted his hand with the lone finger extended. "And it wrenched the hell out of my finger, too."
Judging from Ryder's expression, he wanted to wrench more than Skip's finger, which Skip was now waving like a gun.
Desperate to head off trouble, I grabbed Ryder's hand and gave it a little tug. "Hey, we've got that door thing, remember?"
From the look on Ryder's face, the door was the last thing on his mind. But to his credit, he let me pull him away and made no complaint when I let go of his hand shortly thereafter.
Together, we started walking toward Maisie's house, where we were set to meet a construction crew to repair the door.
Ryder had originally planned it for first thing this morning, but I had balked at the timing – not because I had to be at work, but because Maisie's bike shop was closed on Wednesdays, which meant she would surely be lingering around the house.
Except she wasn't. Around ten this morning, she had texted to say she'd be out of pocket for the whole day and probably late into the night. She didn't say who she'd be spending the day with, or what she'd be doing.
She hadn't needed to.
She was almost certainly spending the time with Griff, which left me free to spend some time alone with Ryder.
I had been thrilled to hear it.
But judging from Ryder's profile as we walked, thrills of any kind wouldn't be on the menu.