29. Ryan
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Ryan
My head is stuck in my thoughts as I start packing on autopilot. I didn’t even notice it before she asked me, but I woke up without a headache. I slept like the dead and woke up without pain. Both things are equally unbelievable.
When my headaches first started, my sleep quality went to shit.
I’d wake multiple times during the night, different made-up scenarios eating at me, and struggled to relax enough to fall asleep again.
Even after moving back home, I still woke up in pain every day, my body in a state of fight-or-flight.
It could be a one-time thing. Although, my temples were pulsing the other day, and they stopped when she joined me on the balcony.
Another text from John threw me off my axis before our snorkeling trip, yet after eating her out, stress was expelled from my body.
It’s not orgasms. God knows I’ve tried that before leaving San Francisco.
Is it her?
I’d love to explore this theory further, but we’re leaving today. The chances of me seeing her after we get back home are pretty slim. I throw the toiletry bag into an open suitcase, followed by the book club book I’ve read.
My suitcase is the first one at the door while I wait for Paige, Jordan, and Emma to finish packing.
I shoot a last look at the place that’s been our home for the past week.
Initially, I was eager to count down the days until I was home, yet now I find myself wishing for a few more days here. With her.
“Our ride is here,” I yell when the golf cart arrives to take us to our taxi.
Paige appears first, lugging her suitcase behind her. An image of her mortified face when the TSA agents dug through her luggage flashes through my mind, and I barely suppress a laugh.
“What?” she asks, obviously noticing my half-smirk.
“Nothing. You need help?”
Jordan and Emma approach right then, and I use the commotion to grab Paige’s suitcase along with mine.
Paige, Jordan, and Emma cram into one car, so I enter the second one with Roger and Mom. The thick-mustached driver smiles and fixes his mirror before starting the car.
“Where did you run off to last night?” Mom asks after clipping her seatbelt.
My hand scratches the back of my head. “Another headache. After I caught up to Paige to return her shoes, I realized that the best thing would be to just go to bed.”
I glance at Roger briefly, finding him staring at me with suspicion in his eyes. His thick eyebrows are lowered, his eyes focused on me.
Luckily, Mom doesn’t notice it. “Oh, you poor thing. Not even vacation helps.”
Guilt blooms in my stomach for lying to her. Still, in a sense, it’s the truth. Vacation doesn’t help. Paige does. If it wasn’t all a coincidence.
“At least they’re getting better.” That part is true. They’re currently my annoying life companion. But in San Francisco, they were haunting me day and night, leaving me dysfunctional.
The driver unloads our luggage, and we head toward the airport entrance, followed by the sound of suitcase wheels clicking on the pavement. The four women are chatting in front of us, and Roger places a hand on my shoulder, stopping me.
Here we go.
He waits for us stay back far enough so they can’t hear us before speaking.
“Look, son. I don’t know what’s going on between you and my daughter.
” With his eyebrows gently raised, he doesn’t look angry, just worried.
“She’s had some bad experiences. She’s vulnerable. I just don’t want her to get hurt.”
I get him. I do. Yet… “Funny. I could say the same thing about my mom.”
His eyes widen with surprise before he shakes his head and lets out a chuckle. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Besides, I know you’re a good guy. I just wanted you to know she’s fragile.”
“Don’t worry. Nothing’s going on between us.” Even if it were, it’s over now. Still, the words taste bitter exiting my mouth.
But he’s right. She doesn’t trust easily, and she obviously has a good reason not to.
Even if she did, I’m the last person she should trust. I’m not a bad guy, but relationships weren’t on my radar even when I had the capacity to put in effort.
Now, the only thing I can focus on is trying to stop my pain.
Or at least minimize it. The thought of adding a relationship to the already dizzying mix that is my life tightens my chest.
This time, Roger made sure we all sit together, so I end up not sitting next to Paige. We barely speak a word during the entire flight, and it’s weird. I much preferred the previous seating chart.
We all hug each other before we part. She whispers a quiet ‘Thank you’ into my ear, raising goosebumps on my skin. I want to ask her for her phone number, or ask her out on a date, but I don’t.
Four days later, I’m rubbing the heels of my hands over my eyes.
It’s pointless. Ever since we got back from the Bahamas, my headaches have been back full force.
I wake up with pulsing temples and a pressure behind my forehead, almost wishing not to even open my eyes.
They subside by afternoon, but each time a memory of Paige in my bed flashes through my mind, I get a sharp whip of pain.
After two days, I pick up some delivery shifts, hoping it would help keep the tension from my mind. I like driving the delivery van. I like focusing on delivering the packages and finding the next address.
The water thumps to the floor of my shower stall as I take off my dirty uniform and throw it in the wash.
A single sock misses the hamper, so I repeat the process.
I step under the warm spray of the water, and like every other time I’m in it, I remember the day Paige and I showered together.
I remember the way her smooth skin felt under my fingertips.
As always, the memory pulses uncomfortably in my head, but I can’t bear to pull my thoughts away.
That night is etched into the very fiber of my being.
The way she melted right into my praise, the way she listened to my commands.
It came naturally to her, just like commanding her came naturally to me, even though it wasn’t something I’d done before.
A part of me feels like we barely scratched the surface. That there’s a whole gold mine hiding underneath. One we’ll never find. I wrap a hand around my dick, jerking it to the visions of her, until my cum mixes with water going down the drain. The orgasm doesn’t help.
Because it’s not her.
The theory doesn’t fully make sense, but it’s the only one I currently have.