Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
“Bet you never dreamed you would end up being my passenger princess, did you?” I ask, glancing over at Ryan as he shifts and pushes the seat back as far as it will go.
“No, I can’t say that I did,” he grumbles, adjusting the backrest with a scowl.
It’s not my being the chauffeur that’s the problem. It’s trying to get as comfortable as possible in Nana’s compact car. Thankfully, Dillon said the tires will be in today, so Ryan won’t have to suffer much longer.
After work on Friday, I picked him up at the clinic, and we decided to camp out at his house for the weekend. Watching TV, snacking, reading, and napping. Some fooling around. He even attempted to teach me how to play chess. All very low-key and necessary after the stress of Thursday night.
When he asked me if I wanted to go for a run with him on Sunday morning, I laughed so hard, tears ran down my face. This girl doesn’t run. If he wants a running partner, Claire would be his best bet. I don’t even own running shoes.
Logan came to pick him up later that day to go to the police station and file a police report with Mason. I made up a lame excuse to go back to the yellow house. Should I have gone with him? Probably, but I didn’t want to, and thankfully he didn’t push me.
I spent the night alone and regretted it almost immediately. So much for being an adult and living completely on my own. I’ve done it fewer than a dozen times since I moved in. It’s too soon to be so comfortable with him, but I love waking up wrapped in his strong arms.
“Are you sure you don’t mind stopping for coffee before driving me to work? It’s kind of backtracking for you,” he asks, running his hand along my thigh. If he moves it any higher then I’ll need to pull over.
“I don’t mind. I don’t want to come between you and your morning coffee, and I’m craving a cupcake.” Flicking on my signal, I turn onto the main street.
Thanks to a generous tip on Friday, I can afford to buy Ryan his breakfast this morning. It’s not much, but it’s something, and it makes me happy.
“What?” he gasps, mouth wide, eyes dancing with humour. “You want a cupcake for breakfast? I had no idea.”
Chuckling, I pull into a spot across the street from Maggie’s and turn off the engine. I feel my good mood shift in a single heartbeat when I see how busy it is inside.
When I don’t move to get out of the car, Ryan asks, “Is everything okay?”
“Maybe I should wait here,” I mumble, staring straight ahead.
Taking my hand in his, he says, “Look at me. Please.”
Sighing heavily, I turn in my seat to face him.
“What’s going on?” he asks gently, adjusting to my mood swing.
Blowing out a deep breath, I tip my head back towards the building behind me. “Aren’t you worried people will be talking about me? And by default, you?”
“No.” His brow furrows as he lightly squeezes my hand. “Are you?”
“Well, yeah. Your truck has been at Dillon’s garage all weekend.
You can’t tell me that people aren’t talking about why.
I can only imagine what rumours are circulating.
It takes only one person to speculate before the entire town is talking about it and ultimately me.
You never had any trouble until you started spending time with me. ”
“You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re not responsible for Braden’s actions,” he reminds me for the tenth time since he told me that his tires were slashed.
But it doesn’t matter how many times he says it, I still feel guilty.
It would never have happened if I hadn’t talked back to Braden.
He said I would regret it, then made sure I did.
When I don’t answer him, he gets out and rounds the front of the car to open my door.
“I’ve got you. Let’s go.” He smiles down at me and reaches for my hand. “I bet Maggie will give you extra cherries if you ask nicely.”
Taking it, I step out. Slamming the door, I say, “She better. I’m always nice.”
Holding hands, we wait for a passing delivery truck before hurrying across the street.
Ryan pulls open the door and gestures for me to enter ahead of him.
“Always such a gentleman.” I chuckle, looking over my shoulder at him. “Even before his first cup of coffee. I’m a lucky girl.”
He rolls his eyes and leads me towards the counter.
Brian Marshal clears his throat as we pass his table. “It’s a shame to hear about Inkfluence.”
Slowing to a stop, I scrunch my nose.
“What do you mean?” I shift from one foot to the other and tilt my head. “What happened?”
Sitting taller, he slowly folds the newspaper he was reading, dragging out his reply as long as possible.
“I’m surprised you haven’t heard,” he drawls, glancing between Ryan and me.
“Heard what, Brian?” Ryan huffs, squeezing my hand a little tighter.
“Apparently, someone was feeling creative with some spray paint over the weekend.”
“Spray paint?” I narrow my eyes and peek at Ryan.
“I haven’t walked over to see it myself, but I’ve been told there is some colourful language painted on the wall.”
Before I can ask any more questions, Maggie rounds the counter and swoops in, handing Ryan a pink takeout bag and two to-go cups in a tray.
“Brian, that’s enough,” she says firmly, sliding magenta-framed glasses up her nose. “You are getting on my last nerve lately. If you don’t stop bothering my customers, I will move your table onto the sidewalk.”
There is cheering on the far side of the room, followed by some loud shushing. I don’t check to see who it is because I’m too busy watching them have a silent standoff. I assume Maggie won because after a moment, Brian turns in his seat and makes a production of shaking and reopening his paper.
Satisfied, she takes my hand and leads me back outside with Ryan close behind.
“I’m sorry, Sunshine. I was watching for you so I could tell you first.”
“Tell me what?” I ask as my pulse picks up. “What’s happening?”
“Someone painted some unpleasant words on Inkfluence’s back wall and door.”
“The building was vandalized?” I clarify. Emerley isn’t immune to petty crime, but I’m still surprised.
Maggie glances at Ryan, then back to me.
“Yes. Banks found it this morning when he went in. He and Logan are there now. I suspect Mason will be along shortly.”
The news hits me like a freight train. They think Braden did this—to get back at me. He damaged Ryan’s truck and now he’s targeted where I work. What the fuck is wrong with him? Why won’t he move on and forget about me?
“Ryan?” I choke out slowly, turning towards him.
He must see the panic in my eyes because he steps closer and tries to reassure me. “It’s okay. I’ll come with you.”
To Maggie, he says, “Thanks for the heads-up and for this.” He raises our usual breakfast order.
“Of course. I’ll touch base with you this afternoon when I’m done with work. If you need anything before then, let me know.”
After a brief hug, she returns to the bakery, leaving us alone on the street.
“Come on. Let’s go see what’s going on,” Ryan prompts.
Swallowing the lump forming in my throat, I say, “Okay. Do you mind driving?”
“You’re going to let me drive Nana’s car? This is both an honour and a privilege.” He nudges me with his shoulder before taking my hand and kissing the back of it. “Ready?”
It’s a short drive to the studio, but my body is vibrating. Ryan keeps glancing at me as I will myself to go still beside him. I watch buildings pass without really seeing them, my mind circling the same questions over and over. Why is this happening? How could I have prevented it?
I swallow, staring straight ahead. “My life is kind of a mess right now,” I whisper. “You didn’t sign up for this.” Isn’t that the understatement of the century?
Ryan reaches across the console and rests his hand over mine, steady and warm. “Hey,” he says quietly, waiting until I look at him. “Messy is okay. I’m not afraid of messy. We’ll see what we’re dealing with when we get there. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together.”
He turns the car into the parking lot and eases to a stop. Banks, Logan, and Mason stand near the back of the building, their attention fixed on the splash of red paint.
My view is obstructed when Carson pulls his truck into the spot beside us. He climbs out and opens my door.
“Good morning, fam.” Judging by the amount of dirt on his jeans and shirt, it appears his morning began hours ago.
“Hey. What are you doing here?” I ask, climbing out and slipping my bag over my shoulder.
“Logan called and asked me to bring my pressure washer,” he says simply. “I’m sorry this is happening, Beck. You don’t deserve it.”
Ryan comes to stand behind me. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he pulls me back until I’m leaning on his solid chest.
Opening his tailgate, Carson lifts the washer down along with a coiled hose and walks it over to the building.
“Thanks, man,” Ryan calls after him. Carson raises a hand in response and keeps on walking.
“That’s good, right?” I ask, spinning around and searching Ryan’s eyes. “It mustn’t be that bad.”
“Let’s go see for ourselves.” Wrapping his arm around my shoulder, he leads me across the lot.
As we approach, everyone stops talking and steps back, allowing us a clear look.
“Oh my God,” I gasp, raising my hands to my mouth.
The light bulb above the door has been shattered. Shards of glass scatter across the ground.
Someone scrawled the words BITCH, CUNT, WHORE in chunky block letters across the door and wall. Not someone. Braden. It’s a message to me.
I swallow and force my hands to my sides. My eyes scan the group of men until I land on Banks.
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea he would do something like this,” I say, willing myself not to cry in front of everyone. The tears can come later. Privately. “What do you need me to do?”
Banks has always been so good to me as a boss, mentor, and friend. I feel horrible that my personal life has hurt him.
He steps closer. “This isn’t on you, Beck,” he says firmly, voice low and controlled. His dark brown eyes are kind. “It’s just some paint and glass. It won’t take long to get it cleaned up.”