Chapter 20 #2
“Okay, that’s enough,” Ryan snaps, stepping around to shield me from my ex. “Beck has told you she’s not giving you anymore money, and she’s not coming back. You need to listen to her and go. Now.”
“So, what, are you taking her on as a project, Doc?” He snorts, acknowledging Ryan for the first time. “You’re some kind of shrink, right? Good luck with that. She needs all the help she can get; she’s fucked up in the head.” He taps a finger to his temple.
“Walk away,” Ryan warns, his voice becoming deeper. I can feel him vibrating with anger. Braden needs to fuck off if he knows what’s good for him.
“Do I need to be worried about this?”
I sigh with relief when I see Mason Kent, a local police officer, approach us.
He’s in plain clothes, so I know he’s not on duty.
I hate to think that this public display is interfering with his regular Sunday brunch with Grace.
But nothing would stop him from intervening if he thought it was necessary.
Braden raises his palms to the air and backs away.
“No problem here, officer,” he says with a creepy, wide smile.
“I was just reminding Becky that she owes me money.” Turning to me, he says, “I’ll be seeing you soon, sweetheart.
And Beck, you should call your parents. They are concerned about your recent behaviour. ” Chuckling to himself, he walks away.
I grab Ryan’s arm before he can say anything or follow him. I’m already embarrassed by what I shared so publicly, not to mention what Braden said about me.
“Are you okay?” He examines me from head to toe.
“Oh, yeah.” I try to laugh it off and minimize my big feelings. “This is just another Sunday for me. Called out for being a whore and extorted for money. Can we go? I want to go home, okay?”
Mason rubs the back of his neck and steps closer. “Do we need to discuss this further? If he’s harassing you, I can bring him in. We can see about getting a restraining order.”
“Nah,” I dismiss him. “I’m kidding. It’s no big deal. We have a lot of history, and we are still sorting out assets and stuff.” Looking away, I take a step towards the truck.
“I’ll let it go for now. Let’s plan to chat soon and put some things on record. What do you say?”
“Sure, we can do that.” Not wanting to continue this discussion further, I climb into the truck and shut the door.
Biting my thumbnail, I watch through the windshield as Ryan talks to Mason.
His face is blank as he listens to whatever Ryan is saying as he paces back and forth in front of him with his fists clenched at his sides.
He must be satisfied with whatever Mason tells him because he nods his head and shakes the older man’s hand.
When he gets in the truck and shuts the door, he turns towards me.
“Are you alright? Honest talk, Beck. Don’t hide behind humour because none of what just happened is okay.”
Breaking eye contact first, I stare down at my hands. “I’m fine, but I really want to go home. I don’t want to see all the people inside the bakery and have them judge me for my poor life choices. Maybe tomorrow.” I try to laugh but fail. “You go grab yourself a coffee though. I can wait here.”
“I don’t need coffee that badly. We can talk about this,” he implores, taking my hand in his own. “Has Braden really been talking to your parents?”
Ignoring his question, I say, “You may not want coffee, but I do. Go on and help a girl out, would ya?”
He doesn’t move or say anything, just holds my hand and searches my eyes for answers I don’t want to give him.
“Please, Ryan,” I whisper. “Grab our coffees so we can leave.”
“Okay,” he agrees, raising my hand to his mouth, giving the back a gentle kiss. “Be right back. Lock the doors.”
Watching him walk away and turn the corner, I catch a sob as the tears stream down my face. I’m fucked up in the head. I can’t do anything right. I’ll never be good enough.
Sniffing, I wipe my eyes with the sleeve of Ryan’s hoodie and try to stop my spiral.
Ryan is back quickly and hands me my coffee and a bag. Peeking inside, I find a single cupcake box. My eyes water again with his thoughtfulness.
The drive back to my trailer is silent. I don’t even feel like putting on music. All I want right now is to crawl into bed and hide under the covers. Maybe rewatch the documentary that I missed most of yesterday. If I fall asleep again, so be it.
“You know you can tell me anything, right? I’ll even turn off my therapist brain for you,” he says with a wink, reminding me of the first time he came to my house.
“I know I can. But not today. I’m tired and could really use a nap.”
“Do you want me to stay? You know I’m a great cuddler.”
“The best, but I think I want to be alone. Besides, you’re getting a little needy, don’t you think? Always wrapped around me like an anaconda.”
He shakes his head at my poor attempt at humour. “Okay, I’ll let you go. If you need anything, call me.”
“I know. I know. You live right down the road and drive right past twice a day.”
“Go to bed, Trouble. I’ll check on you later.”
“See you later, Pretty Boy.”