Chapter Twenty-Seven - Rachel #2
The disappointment that sinks my stomach is so sickening I almost make a break for the bathroom, and maybe I would if I wasn’t so caught up in Ryder’s expression—which is equal parts expectant and nervous.
Ryder never looks nervous.
“What is it?” I ask.
At the same time, he answers the call and brings it to his ear.
“Sir,” he says, and the stony, all-business voice sucks any light from the room.
The words on the other side of the call are muffled, but I can make them out.
“It’s been decided that you’ll be attending the capo conference in Briggs’s place to represent the Sacramento base,” Moreno says, each word cold and aloof, like making this call is the last thing he wants to be doing.
“I’ll be there, sir. Thank you.”
“Leave immediately. I expect you to be here before it starts. Don’t make me regret this,” he grunts before three beeps indicate the call has ended.
For a second, neither of us moves. Ryder doesn’t pull the phone from his ear or his eyes from whatever spot on the floor they’re fixated on.
The implication of Moreno’s invitation tries to settle in, but my heart fights it off because Ryder wouldn’t do this to me.
“Ryder,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
His slow-spreading smile is one of disbelief and unmistakable joy.
“I can’t believe this,” he says, shaking his head like he’s talking to himself more than me. “I figured he would’ve asked by now.”
The words, said so softly, slice me open with the mercy of a dull blade.
He knew this was a possibility? The one weekend he’s supposed to stay with the kids, he knew there was a chance he’d be invited to this conference, and he didn’t say anything about it?
“I have to pack. I need to leave within the hour to make it in time.” He moves to the door.
“Leave? You—you can’t leave.” Disbelief drips from every word, but Ryder doesn’t hesitate in his stride.
“What the hell?” I grit as he reaches the door, and my chest squeezes to the point of pain.
When Ryder turns around, there’s genuine confusion on his face, and it’s worse than if he were being malicious. At least then, he’d acknowledge how this affects more than just his own life.
He really doesn’t care about mine.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” I laugh—really laugh. “What’s wrong is that you can’t leave. You’re watching the kids this weekend.”
He looks taken aback, like the thought of staying never even occurred to him.
“This conference is a big deal, and Moreno personally invited me. Saying no isn’t an option.”
“Then make it an option,” I snap. “This weekend is huge for me, too. You know I’m up for a promotion and won’t get it if I’m not there.”
He gestures to my phone. “Your parents can watch the kids.”
“Lyla won’t be comfortable without one of us for that long,” I say, hating how much it sounds like a plea. “You can’t do this.”
“I have to,” is all he says, and I can’t, for the life of me, see past my anger to decipher whether there’s even a hint of regret in his expression.
But I’m willing to bet there isn’t.
“What about me? What about my job? Doesn’t that matter?”
“Of course it does, but there will be other promotions, Rachel. This is my only chance to get back everything I lost.”
Everything he lost.
His old life, his underboss position, and the glory it gave him.
That’s what Ryder cares about. That’s all he’s ever cared about.
Why did you think, for even one second, that he would choose you? He never did. He never will.
For once, I wholeheartedly agree with the serpentine hiss.
I expect the realization to hit me with the weight of sadness, but all I feel creeping over me is a simmering rage.
I can’t believe I let him do this to me again.
“You are such a bastard,” I say through a humorless laugh that burns my throat. “You’ve only ever cared about your stupid job, never Lyla and me. Our family means nothing to you.”
“Nothing? I lost everything choosing you and Lyla over my boss. You can’t fault me for trying to get it back.”
“We are supposed to be your everything. But you’re right. You did put us first when the other option was letting us die. You know… maybe I should be glad that it wasn’t just my life on the line because if it had been, you never would’ve betrayed Moreno.”
“That’s not true,” he practically spits.
“No? Then how do you explain leaving me three years ago?”
He finally—finally—shows some sliver of emotion, but it isn’t hurt or regret like I expect. It’s confusion. “Everything I did was to protect you.”
“Is that what you tell yourself? That you were a hero that day?”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Rachel. This is too important to walk away from.”
“I want you to say that I’m too important to walk away from. That you want your job, but you want me more.”
That crack in his expression widens, and the vulnerability—the desire to give in to my request—is clear as day. His eyes soften as he regards me, his shoulders tense like he’s ready to take me in his arms, and his mouth parts as if prepared to let the words roll off his tongue.
He wants to say it.
But he doesn’t.
And just like that, the silence that was once sacred to me has ruined any chance of a future with Ryder.
I feel so stupid.
I put my trust—my heart—in the hands of the one man proven unworthy of it.
Against my better judgment and Meredith’s advice, I ran into his arms like a lamb to the slaughterhouse. I knew nothing good could possibly come from being with him, but I did it anyway.
When my eyes find his, I’m sure they look as dead as I feel inside. “All I ever needed was for you to stay, but you never could.”
“You want to talk about staying?” He scoffs. “You ran from me, Rachel, not the other way around.”
“You think I ran away? Ryder, I left because a life without you was better than a life where I would never come first, and this”—I gesture to his phone—”just proves that I was right to leave when I did. My only regret is ever believing that you actually loved me.”
“I do—”
“Don’t,” I cut in, unable to stand hearing the words. “Don’t you dare mock me by saying it now. You made your choice, so go.” I point to the door. “Get out, Ryder.”
His brow furrows, and it’s the first time tonight that he actually looks conflicted. “Rachel, I—”
“Go.”
We stare at each other for a long moment, and I can tell he’s on the brink of fighting me, of pinning me against the wall and demanding to have his way, but he doesn’t.
I wish I knew what was going through his head when he slowly nods, accepting this broken relationship as the price for his title, and walks out of the house.