6. Ryder
6
RYDER
As fast as she came back into my life, she’s gone again. I glance around the room, feeling conflicted. It’s only been a few hours since I dropped her back at the hotel, and I already miss her, which is ridiculous. It’s been five years.
I did fine without her before.
I run both hands through my hair. A sense of confusion washes over me. It isn’t just about what we did, or how it felt. This is Crystal. Luca’s little sister. I didn’t feel guilty before, but now it starts to wash over me. It isn’t like Luca and I have been super close since I left Greenlark; Bronco and I have been closer. But he’s still a buddy. He also doesn’t have to know.
Crystal only has today left in the city, but she’s spending it with her friends. It’ll be their last night before heading back to Phoenix. As much as I wanted to have time with her all to myself, I have to let her go. She’s still in school, and even if I did want more, I can’t ask that of her. What can I even bring to the table? I live in a shitty, one bedroom postage stamp inside an MC clubhouse. Not exactly what Crystal is used to.
I’ll make a decent income when I’m qualified, but it won’t be groundbreaking. It won’t be enough to keep Crystal in the lifestyle she’s accustomed to. As much as she might deny it, she’s an uptown girl, and I’ll always be the downtown guy. There’s no two ways about it. I’ll never be good enough for her, not in the way she needs me to be.
I sigh. The loss of her is too great to stick around here, so I gather all my clothes off the floor and do some laundry. It’s then that I scoop up the wings she had on last night, and the panties I shoved under the pillow. Yeah, I made her go home without panties on. I smile to myself. I’m a sick bastard, but the memory of her riding me with those wings on her back will stay with me for the rest of my life. Last night? It was fucking amazing. She’s always had this power over me, even if she has absolutely no clue, and it’s probably best we keep it that way. Chicks can get needy, clingy, they want more than I can give. But when I think about giving my all to Crystal, somehow it doesn’t cause that tightness in my chest I’m used to.
With her I’d be gladly in her arms every night. What’s more? I’d want to make her happy, instead of thinking just about myself.
Focus.
I shove the panties in the top drawer for the next time I get myself off — I’ll be using those without a doubt. I also hang the wings from my headboard, spreading them out so they expand from one post to the next. I’m hard just thinking about what we did…
What I took.
What she gave.
She waited.
Crystal can say whatever the fuck she wants, but we both know it’s true. And I don’t know how I feel about that.
It means something, right?
Running into her. What was it she said? Fate.
I’ve never really believed in all of that. That things happen for a reason. For me, it means we have no control over what we do; for the most part, I guess we don’t. But I know I’m not worthy enough for her. My feelings on that haven’t changed, they probably never will.
But the way she sasses back at me. We just fell back into the old banter like it was nothing. Like no time had passed at all. She looked sad when I dropped her off. I tried to keep my distance and not touch her too much, but it’s a little hard when that’s all I seem to want to do. As if it’s not hard enough to let her go, now I feel her presence in the one place that was supposed to be just mine.
I close my eyes and think about her parting words…
“I guess this is goodbye.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
Why does it feel like we spent more than one night together? Why is my heart cutting in my chest so loud that I’m sure she can hear it?
“I guess it is.”
“Well, you know I’ll write.”
I chuckle.
She’s the queen of texting, but I’m not even sure that’s a good idea. Now there are too many memories. Memories that will cloud my vision forever, because I’ll never see Crystal in the same light that I did before.
“Take care of yourself.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it again. “I had a great time.”
“Me too.”
She leans over, plants a kiss on my cheek and whispers, “Goodbye, Ryder.”
And then she's gone.
“Goodbye,” I say as I watch her walk into the hotel. Taking my heart, what’s left of it, with her as she goes. At the last minute, she turns, giving me a small wave.
I give her a chin lift, ignoring the lump in my throat and the dread that runs through me knowing that this is it. I won’t see her again for fuck knows how long. But it has to be this way. We both know it…
I jump in the shower, washing the day's oil and dirt off me. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her all day. It’s a wonder I got any work done. I know what I have to do, even if I know it’s wrong.
Once I’ve changed into fresh clothes, I slide my cut back on and head out the door. I hop on my Harley, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the clubhouse or the lot, in case they stop me and ask me to do something. I need to see her. To tell her how I feel. It’s selfish of me, because I know it’ll tug on her heart strings. The last thing I want is for her to feel sorry for me, but it didn’t seem like it was a mercy fuck on her part last night, or this morning for that matter. Crystal is, and always has been, an independent person who is also strong willed. She takes after her dad in that way. She’s stubborn. Yet when I drove her back to the hotel this morning, she was quiet, hardly saying anything. Surely she’s not thinking this could be some kind of permanent thing? She’s in college; no doubt she’d have guys chasing her all over campus. While that leaves me feeling uneasy, I also know I’ve got no right to tell her she’s mine after one night together. Even if that’s how I feel.
But I’ve gotta make it right… I speed through town, running a couple of lights because she leaves early in the morning. This is my last chance to see her in person. I didn’t even text or call her beforehand, so banging down her door isn’t totally out of the question.
I pull up into a parking space alongside the hotel. I take off my helmet and shove the bandana covering my mouth down. Then I run both hands through my hair. What are you doing?
I don’t even fucking know, but I’m here. If I tell her how I feel — something I’m still coming to terms with myself — then that’ll be that. It’ll be her turn to either reject me or… or what?
What the fuck am I even doing here?
This is nuts. I have nothing to offer her, and even if I did, it’ll take years before I earn a decent living and can afford things. Crystal likes to think she’s not born in the lap of luxury, but I know better. Even if she doesn’t act like a spoiled brat most of the time, rich kids think differently. They’ve never had to worry about anything. It wouldn’t matter at first, but later on she’d get bored of not being able to do all the things she’s used to doing. I should be able to buy her things and take her out on fancy dinners, but I can’t afford that.
You’re not good enough.
The urge to see it through pounds inside my chest, while the more reasonable part of my brain tells me to run. Leave her. She doesn’t need me fucking things up for her.
I halt, about to swing my leg over, when my head snaps up. It’s like she called to me, even if she’s completely unaware I’m even here.
Crystal’s arm is linked through another girl’s as they walk up the street. She’s laughing with her friends, enjoying herself, just as she should be doing on spring break. They come to a halt outside a restaurant. One of the other girls behind them is talking animatedly, clearly telling a story, then they all fall about laughing when she’s done.
Crystal isn’t sitting around brooding about me. Far from it. She’s not holed up in her room lovesick, pining over someone she shouldn't want or can’t have. She’s doing what I should be doing: having fun with my friends without a care in the world.
I sit back on my sled, my eyes glued to her.
This is wrong. I shouldn’t be here.
Pouring my heart out to her won’t do any good. Crystal may have been a virgin until last night, but we both know there’s no taming her. She’s a free spirit. And what would she even do? Move schools to be with me? And then what? Invite her to the club as my ol’ lady while I’m still a prospect? She wouldn’t be allowed at the club until I’m patched in, because she’s not fresh meat for one of the brothers to hit on. She’s mine. And it’s because she’s mine that I grip the handlebars and grit my teeth.
She hugs one of her friends, then says something and the girl smiles and nods. That’s Crystal; always making everyone else feel better. It’s how she is.
I swallow the lump in my throat, and the urge to ignore everything I’m seeing and feeling stronger than ever before. It overtakes every cell in my body until I’m grinding my teeth, ready to pounce, yet unable to physically move.
Don’t be a dick. Leave her alone. You left her once, you can do it again.
Still, it was different back then. She was only sixteen. I’d done the right thing.
If this is the right thing to do, then why does it feel so goddamn hard? Why does it feel like someone ripped my heart right out of my chest, stomped on it, then put it back together?
Women make you weak. No. I shut Wayne’s words out of my head. It was one of his most favorite things to say. My mom may have been many things, but she deserved better than that creep.
But I can’t shut it out, because maybe I’m starting to realize it’s true. It’s not that they make you weak, but that they could be hurt because of you. Bringing her into MC life? We may not be 1%ers but we’re still no saints. Bad stuff still happens and I could never live with myself if I brought Crystal into this world and she got hurt because of me.
Am I a motherfucking excuse of an asshole? Am I just looking for an out? The pounding of my heart tells me I’m not. The way my knuckles turn white as I grip the handlebars, forcing myself to look away.
She can never know. That’s my final decision.
I start my sled up with a deafening rumble, because fuck it, if I’m gonna be heartbroken by my own doing, then I want the whole fucking world to know.
When I glance back, they’ve moved inside the restaurant. I rev the engine a couple of times, earning me annoyed looks from passersby, but I don’t give a shit. This is my misery, and I’ll wallow in it if I want to.
I take off from the curbside with a loud roar, leaving nothing but nostalgia behind.
And it’s like I was never there.
Crystal
School drags. It’s been two weeks, and other than a text asking if I got home safe, I haven’t heard anything from Ryder.
I miss him. I can’t stop thinking about him. But being the man who recently took my virginity — andmy brother’s best friend — I think I’m entitled to my feelings. Even if they are unrequited. I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew that I wouldn’t be starting something permanent with Ryder. I’d be a fool to think that. But still, I wallow around like the world is ending. And maybe it is.
Did I really think that when I got back to Arizona I’d just forget about everything?
His touch.
His words.
His protectiveness.
Every single memory of him lights the fire deep within. A fire that has been smoldering for a very long time.
I don’t know how to put it out, or if I even want to.
So, I do what I do best and throw myself into study. I volunteer wherever I can, pulling double shifts, doing anything to take my mind off Ryder. I know it’s impossible, but I can still smell him everywhere I go. That musky, pine, woodsy scent that I couldn’t mistake anywhere else. At night, I cling to his t-shirt that I stole — I figured after he kept my panties and my wings, it was only fair.
The faded Harley Davidson shirt has a couple of holes, and has probably seen better days, but I don’t care.
I don’t know when I became so fucking pathetic. If I’d have known how this was going to make me feel afterward, would I still have gone through with it? I don’t even have to think about that one. I know the answer, and it’s yes. Yes, I would.
The months go by, and before I know it, my friends are dragging me out to party with them. I have to admit, I have been a Debbie Downer for a little while. I need to snap out of it.
“It would help if you didn’t blow off every guy who approaches you,” my friend Deanna says, hands on hips. “You’re still wallowing over that dude from New Orleans, aren't you?”
Deanna’s father is the President of the Bracken Ridge Rebels, a small town only a few hours from Phoenix. He’s good friends with Cash, the NOLA club president and I’m reminded, yet again, what a small world it is.
“I’m not wallowing.”
She gives me a pointed look, then shakes her head. “You could have any guy you wanted. Look at them all drooling over you.”
I hold the paper cup filled with warm beer to my mouth and look up. Granted, there are a couple of guys looking our way, but I hadn’t noticed. I don’t even take a sip. Warm beer is not my thing.
“I don’t think they’re drooling, they’re just trying to work out how easy we are.”
Deanna snorts. “You’re probably right. So what gives? What’s up his ass?”
“Nothing. We’re not a thing. I’ve known him my whole life.”
“Did you sleep with him?”
Deanna wasn’t in New Orleans for my birthday, so I haven’t filled her in on what happened. I kinda wanted to keep it to myself for a little longer. I don’t know why. Maybe not saying it out loud makes it last longer in my head, where no one can touch.
I sigh.
“O. M. G. You did, didn’t you?” She claps her hands together.
“It just happened,” I admit. “And he’s not just good in bed, D, he’s funny, sweet and kind.”
“So what’s the issue?”
“Well, let’s start with the most obvious one: he’s in an MC. Not exactly the kind of guy you bring home to Mom and Dad. Speaking of which, my parents hate him and my dad punched him out when I was sixteen.” I wave a hand at her. “Long story for another day. Even if I did want to pursue him, he LIVES IN NEW ORLEANS!”
Of course, typical Deanna doesn’t see the issue. “So? Does he feel the same way?”
I snort. “Of course not. He’s not going to wait for me to finish school. You should see the way women look at him, D. He’s always been blessed with a baby face, and this whole thing, you know, where women just want to save him.”
“Like you?” She pops an eyebrow.
I huff. “No. Not like me. I’ve never wanted to fix Ryder. He’s perfect the way he is.”
“Speaking of which.” She talks behind the back of her hand. “That guy over there is staring at you.”
I follow her gaze and for a second, my heart leaps. He’s wearing a leather jacket with a patch. But it’s not Ryder. It’s also not anyone I know, and I can’t see from here what the patch reads. I know it doesn’t say Ryder , but a part of me wished it did.
Maybe that’s exactly what I need? Another guy to help get over the current one who doesn’t want me? That’s not really using someone if they’re not serious. If my heart isn’t in it, it doesn’t count, right?
“What club is he with?”
“I’ve no idea,” Deanna whispers. “But he looks like trouble, forget I said?—”
“Maybe we should have a drink? You’re only just done telling me how I need to get out more and meet someone else.”
“Yeah, but maybe not a guy from an MC we’ve never heard of.”
I sweep my eyes sideways. “Do you know him?”
“No, but I know he’s a one percenter. Check out the patch under his name.”
I know what that means, and it’s bad news. Still, there’s something about this guy, now that I’ve got a better look, that spells dangerous.
He’s good looking, with disheveled brown hair and dark eyes. Deanna’s right; he does look like bad news. Maybe that’s a good thing, or maybe it’s playing with fire.
I don’t want another biker. I want him.
I take a sip of the beer as he watches me, refusing to look away first. He has that whole bad boy vibe going on, and it occurs to me he’s probably at this bar — that mainly caters to college students — looking for nothing but a good time.
He’s not Ryder.
No, he’s not, but Ryder isn’t here. Ryder will probably never be here.
And that’s something I have to learn to live with.