7. Alison #8
I look down. “Yeah. He made me say I understood. And then he squeezed harder.” Ryan’s thumb stops. His eyes lift. “I told him it hurt. He said, ‘I know.’” Ryan’s face empties. “Then he squeezed harder.”
Silence. Not calm. Nothing about him is calm. His hand slips out of mine. He sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. “Ryan.”
“Give me a second.” I stay quiet. His shoulders rise once. Fall. Again. Then he looks over at me. “He heard you tell him he was hurting you.”
“Yeah.”
“And intentionally hurt you more.”
“Yeah.”
Ryan looks away again. “I am trying very fucking hard to remember that the most important thing I can do for you right now is stay in this room.”
My hand finds his where it rests against my waist. I move it. Down. Over my stomach. Ryan looks at me. For a few seconds, I don’t say anything. Then: “How much time do you think we have?”
His expression changes. “I don’t know.”
“Two weeks?”
“Ally—“
“Two weeks.”
“I can’t promise that.”
“A month?”
His jaw tightens. “I don’t know.”
My throat starts to ache. “Before April?”
“I don’t know.”
I look down at his hand beneath mine. “I’m going to start showing. I’m already looking at my stomach every morning.”
Ryan turns toward me. “Do you think it’s changed?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes I think yes. Then I think I’m imagining it because I know the baby’s there.” His thumb moves slowly across my stomach. “But eventually I won’t be imagining it.”
“No.”
“What if my body gives us away before Arthur has enough?” Ryan doesn’t answer. My eyes burn. “What if we don’t get Tobias out before I start showing?”
“We’ll adjust.”
“How?” His mouth opens. Nothing comes out. “Ryan.”
“I don’t know yet.” I stare at him. Ryan Harrington always has an answer. Maybe not a good answer. Maybe not a legal answer. Maybe something so completely fucking insane that everyone around him threatens to kill him themselves. But he has one. Tonight he doesn’t.
“What happens if Dad notices?”
Ryan’s hand covers mine. “I don’t know.”
“He’ll know it’s not Victor’s. He’ll know I slept with someone. And if he figures out it’s you—What happens?”
His eyes hold mine. “I don’t know.”
Again. Those three words scare me more than anything else tonight.
“What happens when Victor finds out I’m pregnant?”
Ryan’s entire expression turns lethal again. “He doesn’t get near you.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can fucking try.”
“Ryan.”
He looks away. Then back. “No. I can’t promise it.” That hurts him. I see it. “I can promise we’re working on it. Arthur is working on it. My dad is working on it. Every person who sat in that room this morning is working on it.”
“But nobody can tell me when.”
“No.”
For the first time tonight, his anger disappears. Not completely. It’s still there. But something else takes its place. Fear. Ryan Harrington is scared. And somehow that’s worse.
“I fucking hate saying that to you. I want to give you a date. I want to tell you exactly how many more nights you have to climb out that stupid fucking window. I want to tell you when Tobias is going to walk through this house and know he doesn’t have to go back.
” My eyes fill. Ryan’s hand spreads over my stomach.
“I want to tell you that before anybody can see this baby, you’re already here. ”
“Me too.”
“But I can’t.” A tear slips down my cheek. Ryan catches it with his thumb. “I won’t lie to you because it feels better tonight.”
“I know.”
“I can dig. I can follow people. I can find money. I can help Arthur put pieces together. But I can’t make the federal government move faster because my girlfriend’s body is running on a clock they don’t give a shit about.”
I close my eyes. “I hate this. What if we don’t get there fast enough?”
Ryan pulls me closer. “Then we deal with that day when it gets here.”
“That’s terrible planning.”
“I know.”
“You’re supposed to have some psychotic Ryan plan.”
“I have several.”
I lift my head. “Really?”
“Every one of them ends with my father disowning me, Arthur developing a stress-induced medical condition, or me going to prison.” A watery laugh escapes me. “There she is.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Your idiot.” His hand slides beneath mine until both of our palms rest against my stomach. “I don’t have the date.” I nod. “But I have you.” My throat tightens. “And I have this baby.” His fingers thread through mine. “And Tobias.”
Something inside me cracks.
“That kid ran into my arms yesterday because he was scared. He sat at my kitchen table and trusted me with things he’s afraid to say in his own house.
So no, I don’t have his name on some custody paperwork.
” His thumb moves across mine. “But he’s part of this.
He’s part of us. I’m not leaving him behind. ”
My eyes fill. “You can’t promise that.”
“No.” The answer hurts. Ryan doesn’t soften it. He just pulls me closer. “I can’t promise you when.” His mouth presses against my forehead. “I can promise I won’t stop.”
And somehow, tonight, that’s both nowhere near enough and the only thing I believe.