Chapter 4
Ryan
Ryan had not done much to make his rental apartment feel like home.
The furniture was borrowed, the walls were bare, and the only decoration was a battered duffel bag that leaned against the corner like it might bolt for the door at any moment.
He had told himself he would add things later, once he decided if he was staying.
For now, he kept it sparse, clean, and easy to walk away from.
The knock at the door came just as he had poured himself a cup of coffee. He frowned at the sound, set the mug down, and crossed the small living room.
Emma stood on the other side, her sweet, drooling baby strapped to her chest in a sling, looking like a little angel in sleep.
Emma’s hair was pulled into a messy bun that could only be described as battlefield chic.
“Do not tell me I look tired,” she warned as he opened the door.
Ryan stepped back, gesturing her in. “You look radiant, little sister.”
“Liar.” She trudged inside, dropping a diaper bag on the couch with a sigh of relief. “I figured I would check in on you while the baby finally napped. Consider yourself my adult interaction for the day.”
Ryan smiled faintly and shut the door. “Glad to be of service.”
She took in the apartment with a critical eye, then turned back to him. “This place is depressing. You need curtains. And maybe a plant. Something alive.”
“I am alive,” Ryan said dryly.
“Barely.” Emma poked at the duffel bag in the corner. “Still living out of this thing?”
“It works.” He shrugged. “I don’t need much.”
Emma’s expression softened, though she tried to hide it. “How are you doing? Really?”
Ryan reached for his coffee and took a sip before answering. He hated this question. Hated the way people asked it with too much sympathy or too much curiosity. Emma’s voice was gentler, though, not pitying, just steady.
“I’m fine,” he said finally.
“You came back from God knows where with dark circles under your eyes and a smile that looks like it’s in witness protection. Forgive me if I do not buy ‘fine.’”
Ryan gave her a wry look. “You always were bossy.”
“And you always avoided straight answers.” Emma adjusted the sling, rocking the baby lightly as she sat on the arm of the couch. “You’ve been back two weeks, and you spend most of your time browsing shops and overdosing on coffee. That is not you.”
Ryan stared into his mug. “Maybe I’m tired of being me.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them. Emma’s brow furrowed, and he could see the questions forming, the worry gathering. He held up a hand. “I just needed a break. I needed quiet.”
Emma let the silence stretch for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. Quiet I can understand. This town is practically allergic to excitement.”
Ryan almost smiled. Almost.
She studied him for another beat before her expression shifted, sly now. “Speaking of coffee…you ran into Taylor the other day, didn’t you?”
His stomach tightened, but he kept his tone casual. “I saw her.”
“And?” Emma prodded.
“And nothing. She was working.”
Emma narrowed her eyes. “That woman practically grew up in our house. Us three were inseparable growing up. You are not seriously telling me you had nothing to say to her after all this time.”
Ryan leaned back against the counter, playing it off with a shrug. “She looked the same. Maybe a little more tired. Still running circles around everyone else in that place.”
Emma’s mouth twitched. “She doesn’t give herself enough credit. That café would collapse without her. I keep telling her to finally bite the bullet and go to Spain like she’s always wanted. She’s saved up enough for it, but she’s afraid everything will fall apart without her.”
“Right. I forgot she was so fascinated with that place.” Ryan sipped his coffee, keeping his face blank. “She seeing anyone?”
The question dropped out of his mouth more abruptly than he meant it to. Emma’s eyebrows shot up, and Ryan cursed inwardly for sounding too interested. He quickly added, “I mean, she is twenty-six now. Surprised nobody has snatched her up.”
Emma folded her arms, smiling like a cat who had cornered a mouse. “Why are you asking?”
Ryan kept his expression bored. “Just making conversation.”
“Sure.” Emma rocked the baby, eyes gleaming. “Taylor has never been one to date much. She keeps her guard up. I think she had a few boyfriends here and there, but nothing serious. And honestly, she likes things safe. Predictable. She doesn’t exactly put herself out there.”
Ryan felt something twist in his chest. The thought of Taylor keeping herself hidden away, never letting anyone close, tugged at him in a way he didn’t want to name.
“Why so curious?” Emma pressed.
Ryan kept his voice steady. “I’m not. Just asking. You brought her up.”
Emma tilted her head. “Right. Because you’ve always been so fascinated by her love life.”
He scowled. “Drop it.”
She grinned, clearly satisfied. “Fine. Dropped.”
But the knowing look in her eyes lingered, and Ryan hated how it made heat creep up the back of his neck. He turned away, staring out the small window at the street below.
Emma shifted the baby in the sling, smoothing the blanket. “You know, for someone who claims he wants quiet, you sure seem restless.”
Ryan didn’t answer. He couldn’t tell her the truth, that the quiet only made the noise in his head louder.
That sitting still gave the memories room to crawl out of the dark.
That sometimes the only thing keeping him from drowning in it was the sound of Taylor’s laugh, sharp and unexpected, like it had been yesterday when she called him a broody statue.
Emma pushed off the couch and slung the diaper bag over her shoulder. “All right, I will leave you to your moody brooding. But Ryan?”
He glanced over, wary.
“She’s not a kid anymore. Try to remember that.”
With that, she kissed his cheek, muttered something soothing to the baby, and left.
Ryan stood alone in the silence of his empty apartment, coffee cooling in his hand, and let Emma’s words sink into the hollow place he had been avoiding.
* * *
The apartment was too quiet after Emma left. Ryan stared at the closed door for a long moment, then set his half-empty coffee cup in the sink. He rubbed the back of his neck, rolling the tension out of his shoulders, and tried to shake the weight of his sister’s words.
His phone buzzed on the counter. He didn’t recognize the number, but the area code made his chest tighten. He swiped to answer anyway.
“Hello?” His voice came out rougher than he intended.
“Well, damn. I thought you were hiding in a cave somewhere.” The voice on the other end was gravelly and familiar. Sergeant Danny Ruiz. One of his platoon brothers.
Ryan’s stomach knotted. “Ruiz.”
“I tracked down your number through Higgins. He said you were back in your hometown, pretending you’re retired.” Ruiz chuckled, but it wasn’t unkind. “You gonna tell me how you’re really doing, or you sticking with the standard ‘fine’ routine?”
Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m breathing. That’s about it.”
“That’s something.” Ruiz’s tone softened. “Listen, I know what’s going through your head. I know because it went through mine too. That day was a cluster. You did what you could.”
Ryan clenched his jaw. Images rose without invitation: the dust-choked street, the sound of gunfire, the faces of the men he hadn’t been able to pull out in time. “I should have seen it coming. Should’ve—”
“Stop,” Ruiz cut in, firm. “We all should’ve done something different. But we didn’t. You can’t keep replaying it like a damn movie. It’ll eat you alive.”
Ryan’s throat worked, but no words came.
Ruiz went on. “You were a good leader. You still are. You kept more of us alive than you lost. Don’t dishonor them by drowning in guilt.”
Ryan sank onto the couch, staring at the empty wall. He wanted to believe it. He wanted to let the words settle. But the guilt clung like a second skin.
“You need to come back,” Ruiz said after a pause. “There’s a place for you. The Corps doesn’t just let men like you walk away. We need you.”
Ryan barked out a laugh, humorless. “You don’t need a man who freezes when he closes his eyes. You don’t need a man who sees their faces every night.”
“You need time,” Ruiz said simply. “But don’t bury yourself. Don’t let one bad day make you forget who you are.”
Ryan’s grip tightened on the phone. He wanted to say he wasn’t sure who he was anymore. That all he had left was exhaustion and regret. But the words stayed locked in his chest.
“I’ll think about it,” he muttered.
“Good. That’s all I ask. Think about it.” Ruiz hesitated, then added, “And hey, don’t spend all your time staring at four walls. Live a little. Last time I checked, you weren’t dead.”
Ryan managed a faint smile. “Working on it.”
They said their goodbyes, and when Ryan hung up, the silence pressed in harder than before.
He sat there a long time, staring at the phone in his hand, Ruiz’s words echoing in his head.
Live a little.
Easier said than done.
But when his mind drifted, it wasn’t to the desert or the gunfire. It was to a woman with ink-stained fingers.
Taylor Pierce.