Chapter 10
Candace
The knock at the door jolts me awake. I blink against the dim light of the room, my neck stiff and aching from falling asleep slumped over my little cache of memories.
My arms are tangled awkwardly, the soft sweater I changed into now rumpled and scratchy against my skin.
The half-empty glass of wine sits precariously on the edge of the coffee table, the bottle beside it nearly empty.
For a moment, I just sit there, the persistent knock echoing through the house. My head feels foggy, my body weighed down by the emotional exhaustion of last night. I rake a hand through my hair, and my fingers catch in the tangled mess. I groan, wincing as I ease myself upright.
Another knock, harder this time.
I shuffle to the door, every muscle protesting the movement. The cool air from the window reminds me I’m barefoot, my toes curling against the cold hardwood floor. Whoever this is, they’ve chosen the worst possible moment.
When I open the door, I find Ryan standing on the other side. Great. Worst possible moment. Worst possible person.
He looks rough—his dark hair damp from the rain, his jaw shadowed with stubble, his clothes wrinkled as though he hasn’t had a proper night’s sleep. His eyes, though, are what catch me off guard. They’re stormy, intense, and locked on me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.
“What do you want, Murphy?” I ask, my voice raspy from sleep. My body tenses, instinctive walls going up.
“Candace,” he replies, his tone low, steady. “We need to talk.”
I don’t respond. Instead, I move to close the door, but his foot shoots out, wedging itself firmly in the gap.
“Don’t,” he says sharply. “Not this time.”
“Go away,” I snap, trying to shove the door harder, but he doesn’t budge. “Fuck it.”
I turn my back and step away. He pushes against the door, and it allows him easy entry with a fluid motion that leaves me gaping at his audacity. He closes the door behind him, his presence overwhelming in the small space.
“I came by earlier,” he says, as he gazes at my casket of memories as well as the hospital bracelet and the form I’d left sitting out. “I saw you.”
My stomach drops, anger rising to cover the shame of being seen like that. “You had no right…”
“I had every right,” he interrupts, his voice rising slightly. “You think I could just stay away after seeing that? After everything you said to me?”
“Why not? You walked away before. That’s kind of your MO, Murphy. When the going gets tough, Ryan Murphy gets going,” I bite back, my voice shaking.
He takes a step closer, his hand gesturing toward the couch. In a softer tone, ignoring my snark, he says, “I want to hear it. I want to know why you didn’t tell me.”
I cross my arms over my chest, glaring at him. “Would it have mattered? You made your decision. You left.”
“That’s not an answer,” he says, his voice tightening with frustration. “It was my baby, too.”
“It’s the only answer you’re going to get,” I snap, the heat in my chest building.
He runs a hand through his hair, pacing the small space between the couch and the door. “You think it wouldn’t have mattered? You think I wouldn’t have dropped everything to come back if I’d known?”
I laugh bitterly, shaking my head. “Come back for what, Ryan? To play the hero? To fix everything with a grand gesture? That’s not how life works. You left, and I wasn’t going to chase after you like some lovesick girl.”
His jaw tightens, and he stops pacing, turning to face me fully. “I didn’t leave because I didn’t care,” he says, his voice low but filled with a quiet intensity. “I left because I was barely holding myself together. I was trying to protect you…”
“Don’t,” I cut him off, the word sharp and final. “Don’t you dare try to spin this as some noble act. You didn’t protect me. You abandoned me. And you left me to deal with the fallout alone.”
His shoulders slump slightly, the fight momentarily draining out of him. “I know I screwed up, Candace. I know I wasn’t there when I should’ve been. But I’m here now. And I need to understand why—why you didn’t tell me. Why you’ve spent all these years hating me instead of letting me help.”
I clench my fists, the weight of his words more than I can bear.
“Because it was too late,” I say, my voice breaking.
“By the time I realized I was pregnant, you were gone. By the time I lost her… by the time I almost died… you weren’t reachable, and your father indicated you didn’t want to know and didn’t want me.
I wasn’t going to beg you to come back. I wasn’t going to beg for anything. ”
“I should have known my father was at the root of all this,” he mutters bitterly.
The room falls silent, the only sound the distant crash of waves against the shore. I can feel the tears threatening again, but I refuse to let them fall. Not now. Not in front of him.
He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out as if to touch me but stopping just short. “I didn’t know,” he says quietly, his voice filled with something that almost sounds like pleading. “If I’d known…”
“But you didn’t,” I say sharply, cutting him off again. “You didn’t know because you didn’t stay. Because you made your choice without telling anyone. In my case, your choice didn’t include me.”
His hand drops, his expression tightening as my words land.
“You think it was that simple? That I didn’t care?
God, Candace, I’ve spent every day since I left regretting it.
You think it didn’t tear me apart to walk away from you?
From us? I thought… I believed that after basic training, I could come back for you. ”
His words hit me like a blow, the raw emotion in his voice breaking through my defenses. I turn away, my arms wrapping around myself as though I can shield against the storm raging between us.
“I don’t know what you want from me, Ryan,” I say quietly. “You can’t change what happened. You can’t fix this.”
He steps closer, his presence warm and overwhelming behind me. “Maybe not,” he says softly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying.”
I turn to face him, my chest tight with a mix of anger and something I don’t want to name. “Why?” I demand. “Why now? Why do you even care?”
“Because I never stopped caring,” he says simply.
The words hang between us, heavy and unspoken for years. And then, before I can respond, he closes the distance between us, his hands cupping my face as his lips crash into mine.
The kiss is hard, fierce, and filled with all the anger, frustration, and longing we’ve both been holding back. My hands shove at his chest, but he doesn’t let go, and slowly, the fight drains out of me.
I kiss him back, my fingers tangling in his hair as the years of hurt and anger melt away, replaced by a heat that consumes us both.
“Candace,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice rough and filled with need.
I don’t answer, my hands pulling him closer as the weight of the past fades into the background. Right now, in this moment, nothing else matters.
I shake my head. This can’t be happening. I can’t fail myself again. The storm outside mirrors the one within me.
I don’t need a man. Not now, not ever. I can handle life on my own terms, without leaning on anyone.
Men? They’re distractions I’ve learned to avoid, complications in a life already complicated enough.
But Ryan? He’s different. That infuriating grin of his, those eyes that seem to strip away every layer of my defenses and see straight into me.
Even after all this time, even after everything we’ve been through, they’ve got me craving him in a way I can’t explain, can’t control.
It’s maddening, wanting someone I’ve convinced myself that I hate and that I don’t need.
“Come on, Candace, what’s it going to be?” He murmurs against my lips.
My breath catches, and I realize the air in the room feels heavier now, charged with a tension I can’t quite name.
I force a smile, hoping it’s enough to mask the chaos inside me. “Dream on, Ryan,” I say, my voice laced with defiance. But the heat in my tone betrays me, exposing the lie in my words. Even I can hear it.
Ryan doesn’t fire back with his usual sarcasm or smart-ass response; he doesn’t let me off with a joke or a quip.
Instead, something in him shifts—I can feel it.
The air between us thickens as he pulls me closer.
Before I can react, he turns so that my back hits the wall, the solid surface jarring me just enough to make my pulse spike.
His hands catch my wrists, pinning them above my head with a strength that’s undeniable, but not cruel.
His other hand circles my throat—not tight, but enough to hold me in place.
His eyes burn into mine, darker and more serious than I’ve ever seen them.
“I’m done playing, Candace,” he growls, his voice low and rough, the vibration of his words humming against my skin. “So, what’s it going to be? You going to try to keep running from this, from us?”
His breath is warm against my face, his body pressed against mine, a line of heat and strength I can’t ignore.
A shiver races down my spine, a primal reaction I wasn’t prepared for.
The intensity of his grip, his proximity, awakens something deep inside me, something I’ve spent years burying.
This moment feels like a crossroads, the line between resisting him and surrendering to everything he ignites in me.
“Fuck or fight, Candace,” he murmurs, his lips so close to mine I can feel the tease of his words. Each syllable brushes against my resolve, threatening to unravel it. “Make up your mind.”
I’m frozen, caught between the pull of the flames and the safety of retreat. My heart races as I stare into his eyes, knowing that whatever choice I make, there’s no turning back.