Chapter 31
The pub was starting to empty out, the buzz of conversation fading as people trickled toward the exit. Ryan turned to me, his easygoing expression masking a flicker of concern.
“Want me to give you a ride home?”
I hesitated, glancing toward the bar where Nina was deep in conversation with Shane. I’d come with her tonight, but she seemed perfectly content to stay, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hang around waiting.
“Yeah, that’d be great,” I finally said, sliding off the booth.
As Ryan and I stepped out into the chilly night, a quiet sense of contentment settled over me–the kind that came from simply being with him. His presence wrapped around me like something steady and unshakable, a warmth I hadn’t realized I needed.
Ryan opened the passenger door for me, and I climbed in, mumbling a quiet, “Thanks.”
The drive home was quiet, the hum of the tires on the pavement and the low murmur of music playing from the truck’s speakers filling the silence. But my thoughts were louder than all of it–swirling, tangled, relentless.
That guy at the pub still had me shaken. His touch had been familiar in a way that made my skin crawl, like a ghost reaching out from a past I thought I’d left behind.
It wasn’t the first time a guy had acted like that around me. Tonight, it felt different, though.
My pulse had spiked, my body reacting before my mind even caught up–an instinct, a reflex. Like I was back in that place, in that time. Back with Reid.
He would’ve done worse. A hand on my arm wouldn’t have been the end of it. Reid would’ve grabbed, shoved–maybe even hit. The thought made my stomach churn. The memory. The fear. The helplessness. It all pressed in at once, a weight I wasn’t ready to carry again.
But Ryan… Ryan wasn’t Reid.
He hadn’t stormed over, hadn’t thrown a punch, even though I knew he wanted to. He’d let the guy’s actions speak for themselves. He’d stayed beside me. He’d given me space, even when every part of him had probably been screaming to do something, anything, to make it stop.
I appreciated that more than I could ever explain.
The seat shifted beneath me as I stole a glance at Ryan. His eyes were on the road, hands relaxed on the wheel. He hadn’t pushed for details, hadn’t demanded answers when he saw how I froze up, how I pulled away. He knew something was wrong. But he didn’t press.
Part of me wanted to tell him everything. To lay it all out. To let him see the full weight of the scars Reid had left behind.
I didn’t know how, though. Or maybe I was just afraid of what that might do to us.
“Everything okay?” Ryan’s voice cut through my thoughts, gentle yet threaded with concern.
I blinked, dragging myself back to the present. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said quickly–too quickly. The words felt thin, unconvincing, even to me. “Just thinking.”
His eyes flicked toward me, brief but searching. “You sure?” His hand stayed steady on the wheel, that familiar softness still there–the kind he always seemed to have when he looked at me.
“I’m okay,” I repeated, firmer this time, as if saying it with more conviction might make it true.
Ryan didn’t push. He just reached over, his fingers wrapping around mine, grounding me in the quiet between us. The warmth of his hand settled something frayed inside me, even if it didn’t completely untangle it.
After a moment, he spoke again. “You just want me to just drop you off?” His voice was casual, like he was asking if I wanted to grab coffee.
I hesitated. A part of me craved solitude–to retreat into the quiet of my house and let my thoughts run their course. But another part of me–the part that had felt safe with Ryan tonight, even with everything tangled inside me–didn’t want to be alone.
“No,” I said quietly. The words felt easier than I expected. “I’d like you to stay. If that’s okay with you.”
Ryan glanced at me, a slow smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Of course, it is,” he said, warm and certain. “I was kind of hoping you’d want me to.”
Something inside me loosened, the weight on my chest lifting just enough to breathe a little easier. He wasn’t just offering comfort–he was offering something steadier, something safer. A kind of security I hadn’t let myself trust in a long time.
As we turned onto my street, I exhaled, the tension inside me unraveling little by little. The thought of having him close tonight, of not being alone with my thoughts, felt like exactly what I needed.
The walk from Ryan’s truck to the house was quiet but comfortable. Ryan’s hand rested lightly on my lower back, guiding me along the driveway. It wasn’t the first time we’d done this, and the familiarity of it felt oddly soothing, like a quiet rhythm we’d both slipped into without effort.
As I unlocked the door and stepped inside, Ryan followed, kicking off his boots and shrugging out of his jacket like he belonged here. And maybe he did. He’d been here enough times that it had started to feel natural, like this place was just as much his as mine.
“Want some water or something?” I asked, moving toward the kitchen.
“Water’s good,” Ryan replied, his tone casual, but I could feel his eyes on me as I grabbed two glasses and filled them at the sink.
When I returned, he was already in the living room, settling onto the couch with the easy confidence of someone who didn’t need an invitation. His long legs stretched out, and his arm draped over the back of the cushions as if he had all the time in the world.
I handed him his glass and flopped onto the armchair across from him, tucking my feet up underneath me. Ryan watched me for a moment, his gaze steady though not intrusive.
“You okay?” he asked, breaking the silence.
I nodded quickly. “Yeah. Fine.” My voice was tight, and I could feel the lie hanging in the air between us.
Ryan didn’t push, but the slight lift of his brow told me he wasn’t buying it.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” he said after a beat, his voice low and even. “But if you want to, I’m here.”
The sincerity in his words made something tighten in my chest. I looked down at the glass in my hands, turning it slowly. “It’s not that simple.”
“Okay,” Ryan’s voice was gentle, his patience unwavering.
I let out a shaky breath, my thumb tracing the rim of the glass. “It’s about Connor’s dad.”
Ryan didn’t flinch or act surprised. He just stayed silent, his presence steady as he waited, listening.
I finally looked up, meeting his steady gaze. There was no judgment there, no pity, just quiet understanding. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you,” I whispered, the words almost slipping out before I could stop them.
His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t press. Instead, he set his glass down and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Whenever you’re ready, Harper. No rush.”
I stared at him for a long moment, the weight of his words settling over me. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something like this. Tonight though, it felt different–more significant. And for the first time, I felt like maybe I could tell him, piece by piece. Maybe I could finally let him in.
“Connor and I have only been on our own since November,” I began, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to control it. “Reid and I were together since high school. At first, it was good… then his temper… it got worse over time. It started off as just yelling. Then smashing things, and then…”
I trailed off, swallowing hard. My hands were shaking, so I set my glass down before I spilled it.
Ryan leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t ask questions–he just watched me, his presence grounding me, steadying me.
“When I got pregnant with Connor, I thought it would calm him down.” I continued, my breath catching.
“And for a little while it did. But after Connor was born…” My voice faltered, and I forced myself to push through.
“It got worse. A lot worse. He never hit me while I was pregnant, but once Connor came… all bets were off.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the weight of the memories. “I stayed because I thought I could fix it. He’d run off all my family and friends. Everyone had given up on me… I had no one. And I thought I owed it to Connor to keep his dad in his life. But I was wrong. I was so, so wrong.”
Ryan’s jaw tightened, yet he stayed silent, his eyes never leaving me. He let me speak at my own pace, and his quiet support made it easier, even if the words felt impossible to say.
“There was this one night,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Reid was in the living room, watching a game, drinking like he always did.”
I hesitated, my fingers tracing an absent pattern on the couch cushion. I couldn’t look at Ryan, so I fixed my gaze on a photo of Connor on the wall.
“He came storming into the kitchen.” I closed my eyes, taking a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. “He grabbed me, forced me to turn around, and started yelling about how ungrateful I was.”
My throat tightened, but I pushed forward, my heart pounding. “Then, his hand went to my throat before I even realized what was happening. And he squeezed. So hard. I thought I was going to die, Ryan. I really did.”
I finally looked at him, my eyes brimming with tears. Ryan’s jaw was clenched, his hands curling into fists on his lap, still, he stayed silent, his gaze intense yet unwavering. “I couldn’t breathe. All I could think about was Connor. That if Reid killed me, Connor would be left with him.”
I exhaled shakily, brushing a tear from my cheek. “And then I heard this… this crack. Reid’s hands were no longer around my throat. I turned and saw Connor standing there, holding a frying pan. He was trembling so hard, he could barely hold it, but he did it. He saved me.”
Ryan’s face softened. His fists unclenched, though I could still see the conflict in his eyes–rage simmering under the surface, tempered by an overwhelming tenderness for me. For Connor.