Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ryker throws out an arm, stopping me dead in my tracks as Beau stumbles down his mother’s driveway with a bottle of beer clenched in his fist. “I should kill you for this.”
I glance back toward the truck. Dammit. I’d been so distracted I hadn’t realized we’d parked near Dorothy freaking Blackthorne’s house.
“Go home, Beau,” Ryker says dryly, already positioning me slightly behind his body.
“Shut up, boy . Did you r-really think I wouldn’t find out? Come on now, I thought you were smarter than that. I know everythin’ that happens in this town. My uncle’s a damn judge!” Beau hiccups and then shrugs, stumbling a few steps as the motion throws him off balance. “She sure did stir the shit, though, I’ll give you that.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Ryker growls.
“You gonna pretend like you didn’t convince this abomination to file a report”— hiccup — “ with the county sheriff instead of the local police? You gonna act like it wasn’t your idea for her to tell the CPS caseworker I’m an unfit parent?” He takes a swig from the bottle, fizzy-liquid leaking from the corner of his mouth and dripping down his chin as he shakes his head. “Lettin’ a woman do your dirty work”— hiccup —“now? Same way you let your brother take your beatin’s. You’re a coward. Always fuckin’ have been.”
Shit . If Ryker was barely able to restrain himself around Cooper the other day, there’s no way he’ll be able to control his temper around Beau. Especially not when he’s already clenching and unclenching the fist not holding on to my hip.
“Don’t let him bait you,” I whisper, dropping my voice so Beau won’t hear. “If the police academy finds out you got in a fight, they’ll rescind your acceptance.”
“I’m aware,” Ryker says through gritted teeth.
Beau wipes his mouth with his forearm and takes a step into the street. He’s at least fifteen feet away, but it’s close enough that his rancid body odor and the stale cigarettes on his breath twist my stomach.
“Come on over here, Willa Dunn,” he taunts with a crook of his finger. “If my stepson wants you to”— hiccup —“take the blame, I’m more than happy to teach you not to mess with a Blackthorne. Maybe I’ll finish what your mama started.”
Every muscle in Ryker’s body tenses as he curves forward, readying himself to strike. I glance back and forth between them, pulse thudding against my temples. Beau knows exactly what to say to piss Ryker off. If this goes any further, I doubt I’ll be able to prevent the two of them from going at it.
A flash of metal near Ryker’s belt catches my eye, and I glance down to see his phone sticking out of his pocket. Cautiously, I step forward, tucking myself halfway between his back and arm.
“Why do you want custody of Charlotte in the first place? Won’t taking care of a kid cut into your drinking time?” I call out over Ryker’s shoulder, hoping my question will distract Beau while I delicately extract the phone.
“It’s not about want ,” Beau sneers, right as I press Record. “It’s about takin’ back what was stolen from me. What’s”— hiccup —“ rightfully mine .”
Ryker glances down as I slide the phone into his front pocket. “ It’s recording ,” I whisper.
Without missing a beat, he rotates his body for a better camera angle. “Do you really think I’m going to stand by and let Charlie become your new punching bag?”
Beau stops walking but doesn’t respond.
“Keep going,” I whisper.
“I know all too well what you do to the people dependent on you, the people you’re supposed to protect, because I fucking lived through it,” Ryker seethes. “I won’t let that happen to my sister. I won’t let you fucking touch her.”
Beau’s face contorts into a sinister grin, shadows crossing his features when he turns away from the fading rays of the dying sun.
A chill skitters up my spine.
Come on, just say anything incriminating we can use…
Beau laughs, and my face contorts in revulsion. I can’t even imagine how terrifying it must’ve been for Ryker and Kane to grow up under his roof.
“Try again,” I whisper, grabbing onto the back of Ryker’s belt so he knows I’m here with him. Ryker straightens, which Beau seems to take as a challenge.
“You”— hiccup —“you’re the one who made this ’bout me and her. Step aside, boy.” Beau laughs, taking a few more stumbling steps toward us while another potent wave of his atrocious body odor hits my nose.
“If he gets any closer, I’m going to fucking kill him,” Ryker seethes, and I still, unnerved by the conviction in his voice. How am I going to stop him if ? —
Across the street, a door clatters open, and Dorothy Blackthorne steps onto the crumbling stoop of her once stately house.
“Get back inside this instant,” she shrieks. Beau grumbles inaudibly, and I barely register what’s happening before his mother marches over and grabs him by the ear. He roars in pain, and Dorothy rewards him with a hard smack across the mouth, her bracelets jingling from the impact.
Generational violence. I guess that explains a lot…
“But, Ma ,” the late-forty-something-year-old man-child whines as he’s dragged across the street by his earlobe. “You heard what Uncle Abbott said.”
Dorothy slaps him upside the head. “Yes, I remember. And I’m perfectly aware of what the Dunn girl tried to do, but Abbott already took care of it. That’s the benefit of havin’ a judge in the family instead of a small-town cop.”
She slaps him again. “Did you ever stop and consider that this was all part of her plan? That she was hoping you’d do exactly what you’re doin’ now? No, of course you didn’t, because I apparently raised a moron. So help me God, Beaumont Benedict Blackthorne, if you mess up me getting my granddaughter back, I’ll end you.”
Still holding on to her son’s ear, Dorothy turns and points a scathing finger at me. “Stay out of our business. Charlotte deserves to grow up with her family.”
“She deserves to grow up safe ,” I hiss, something inside me snapping as I attempt to maneuver around Ryker. “That disgusting son of yours killed his wife and beat his stepchildren. How can you put a helpless little girl at risk like that?”
Dorothy’s sharp hazel eyes flash to Ryker, softening for a second, like clouds parting to reveal a single ray of sunlight, before the look fades, blotted out by deep shadows of guilt.
My mouth falls open, bile rising up my throat. “You knew he was hurting them?”
The heat in my veins turns molten, the rage coursing through my bloodstream making the undeniable urge to slap Dorothy so strong that I’m charging toward her without consciously deciding to move my feet. I only take three steps before Ryker snakes an arm around my waist .
“You’re just as pathetic as your son,” I shout, feet coming off the ground as Ryker holds me back. “No wonder Beau’s such an abusive piece of shit. He’s exactly like you!”
I struggle to free myself, but Ryker holds me in place, keeping me pinned against his chest until Beau and Dorothy disappear back into their dark house.
My body slumps and eventually I stop fighting. “She knew and she didn’t help you?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he whispers, turning off his phone and then spinning me to face him.
A single tear rolls down my cheek before he tilts my chin up to wipe it away.
I want to tell him that it does matter. That he matters. That he’s incredible and I respect the hell out of him for how hard he’s fighting for his sister. I don’t know anyone who would change their entire life for a sibling like he has. Most people would have given up by now.
Noah would’ve.
But I don’t say any of that because if I try to, I’ll start crying in earnest and that will scare him off. I sniffle, tamping down my emotions and blinking my eyes dry.
“Willa, I need to know what Beau was talking about. What did you do?” Ryker asks, voice choked and almost pleading as a gust of wind whips through my hair. I try to look away, but he places both hands on my face, forcing my gaze to his. “Tell me.”
“A caseworker stopped by to interview Dad. I wouldn’t let her leave until I’d said my piece about how horrible Beau is. It doesn’t matter, though. She wouldn’t listen.”
He widens his stance so that his face sits just a little closer to mine. “What about the sheriff?”
I wipe my nose on the back of my hand, inhaling a deep breath to keep my voice steady. “On the morning of the eclipse, I filed a report with the sheriff’s department about Beau hitting me with the bat.”
Ryker’s brow pinches together. “Their office is two towns over. Why go that far? And how did you even get there without your dad finding out?”
“I hitched a ride with Isabel.” I try to move my head, but he’s holding my cheeks so firmly I can’t. “I was nervous about Dad kicking Noah out if he knew I got hurt, but I had to do something so your sister wouldn’t end up with Beau. I figured if I filed with a different department, there was less of a chance Dad would find out. Isabel doesn’t know what I did. I made her swear not to ask me any questions. It’s not like it worked anyway…”
Ryker’s grip becomes crushing, his breathing so fast I can’t tell if he’s mad or having a panic attack. “They take pictures when you file a report like that…” he says, making my stomach twist because he knows that from firsthand experience with Kane. “You let them see your scars?”
A wave of nausea racks through me as I remember the low whistle the female officer let loose when she saw my shoulder and back. “I had to.”
He leans forward, thumb brushing gently across my cheek. “You did that for me?”
I search his eyes, trying to find the hidden meaning behind the question, but there’s only confusion and maybe a little pain. I place my hand over his wrist. “For Charlie, and it wasn’t a big deal. It was the least I could do.”
He shakes his head like he can’t wrap his brain around what I’m saying. “But why would you do that? You hadn’t seen her in years and you’ve always hated me.”
My chest pinches. “I didn’t hate you.”
“You most definitely did,” he says through a laugh, eyes scrunching. “Do you even remember what you said to me when I left town, the day CPS came for me and Charlie?”
I shake my head, holding back a new onslaught of tears threatening to spill over. I can only imagine how awful it was if he still remembers.
Ryker rests his forehead against mine, his soft, shallow breaths and the scent of rain-soaked pine dancing across my nose and cheeks. “You grabbed my shirt like a little brat and told me that getting out of Deadwood was a gift that was wasted on a shithead like me.”
My eyes widen. “That’s horrible. I told you I was jealous, but that’s not an excuse. Ryker, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says, low and gruff. “You were the only person who asked for more of me. The only person who didn’t give me a hall pass because of the shitty way I grew up. I could see in your eyes how angry you were that I was getting out when you were stuck here, and that drove me to push myself harder in everything I did. It pushed me to be better for Charlie.”
“Ryker—”
“Wait.” Loosening his grip, he caresses my cheeks with his thumbs. “I have one more question,” he says, brows pinching together like he’s in pain. “Why did you change your mind about me?”
“Who says I have?” I whisper through a watery smile.
“Answer the question,” he demands, voice clipped and rough. “I know you’re leaving, but I’m lying to my best friend. My best fucking friend, Willa. I have to understand why.” He closes his eyes tightly. “Are you trying to check off number nine on your bucket list before you leave for school? I’m not saying I won’t do it, I just need to know.”
My stomach bottoms out. Jesus . Is that why he kept his pants on when we were making out on the couch and in his truck? Because he thought I was trying to use him?
I grab his wrists, gently squeezing until his eyes pop back open. “Ryker, I’d never do that to you. Isabel added that to the list, not me.”
I rise up onto my tippy-toes and touch my nose to his. “And I changed my mind about you because you’re everything I’m not. You were hurt by the people who were supposed to protect you, and instead of hiding like I did, you’re out here living and doing your best to prevent it from happening to your sister.”
His eyes move rapidly across my face, like he’s not sure if he can believe me or not .
“I didn’t really know you when we were kids,” I say, clutching his wrists tighter so he can feel how much I mean this. “But I wish I did. We’ve lost out on so much time.”
Ryker’s lips slam into mine, frantic and desperate, like he’s dying of thirst and only I can save him. I moan as the kiss intensifies, grabbing onto his shirt to keep my hands from wandering.
“You think you know me now, Princess?” he rasps, pausing his assault on my lips just long enough to walk me backward and press me against the tailgate of his truck.
“I want to,” I say between kisses, leaning my body against his.
After a moment, he grabs my arms and wraps them around his shoulders. Desperate to be closer and delighted with clear permission to touch him, I drag my fingers through his hair, my chest exploding in a rush of heat when he groans.
Then his hands are everywhere—on my waist, my hips, in my hair, electrifying every inch of my skin. Without breaking the kiss, he shifts his body and slides his palm to my inner thigh, where he slowly inches up my skirt until my bare ass is smashed against the sun-warmed metal of his truck.
His mouth slows, and I moan again as he kisses my neck and cups my pussy. Every surface of my skin is tingling like a live wire. And although I’m vaguely aware that we’re in the middle of the street across from Dorothy Blackthorne’s house, I just don’t care.
I need more. I need him .
We’re blocks away from Marco’s…no one would notice if we climbed into the truck and ? —
Something vibrates against my hip, and I gasp for air. “Ryker.”
He trails kisses down my throat, licking and nipping as he goes. “Yes, Princess?”
“Your phone,” I pant.
Cursing under his breath, he pulls his mouth away from my neck and retrieves the cell from his front pocket. “ Shit . It’s Noah wondering where I am. We better grab the whiskey and head to the party. ”
My elation quickly fades.
But then Ryker grabs my chin. “Come find me in an hour and we’ll get the hell out of here,” he says, lifting my hand to his cheek and leaving a soft kiss on my inner wrist.
A slow smile spreads over my lips. “Deal.”