4 RYAN
RYAN
Everyone knows that one Karin
I get home from the gym, fresh off the Friday afternoon rush from hell. My shirt is glued to my back and my legs are threatening to quit on me.
My house sits tucked into a quiet street. The paint’s a little worn, and there’s a warm light glowing through the windows.
I dig the keys out of my pocket when I see Mrs. Keller from the clothing store walking on the street with her small white dog. She spots me immediately as she passes my house. “Ryan!” she calls, waving frantically.
I’m so not in the mood for this.
“Hey, Mrs. Keller,” I say anyway, because my mother raised me right.
“Oh, call me Karin honey!”
No, thank you.
She beams, tightening her grip on the leash while the dog circles her ankles. “Back from the gym?” she asks, eyes flicking over me.
“Yeah.” I nod once, angling my body toward the front door and sliding my key into the lock.
“So listen,” she continues. “My cousin’s daughter is in town for a few weeks—”
Here we go.
“—She’s lovely,” Mrs. Keller says. “Really sweet. Works in marketing. Or maybe finance. Anyway, very pretty.”
“That’s great,” I say, twisting the key again. “I, uh—”
“She’s single,” she adds quickly. “And I thought you’re such a nice young man.”
The lock finally gives, and I grab the handle. “Thank you, but I’m actually really busy with school and training right now,” I say, keeping my tone polite. “So—”
“Oh, just a coffee,” she says, waving her hand. “It doesn’t have to be anything serious.”
“I don’t really date,” I say, as gently as humanly possible.
Because I really don’t. Between school and training, I’m already busy enough as it is.
And I never really liked the idea of doing all that cliche date shit.
Like going to the cinema, holding hands, or whatever weird things couples do. That’s just not for me.
She laughs. “Oh, honey. Nobody really dates anymore. You just see what happens.”
I smile and step one foot inside my house.
“She’ll be around next week,” Mrs. Keller continues. “I could give her your number?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say. “But thank you.”
She tilts her head. “You never know unless you try.”
“Right,” I say, backing further into my house. “Well. I should probably—”
Her dog suddenly lunges forward, tangling the leash around her leg, and she bends down to untangle it, still talking. “—and she loves the beach, and her mom says she’s been wanting to meet someone local—”
I take the opportunity. “Nice seeing you!” I say, already halfway inside.
“Well I’ll—”
I close the door. Fast. For a second, I just stand there with my forehead pressed against it, letting out a long exhale while her dog keeps barking on the other side. The sound slowly fades, which hopefully means Mrs. Keller finally gave up and walked away.
As much as I love this town, it’s absolutely full of women trying to set me up with their daughter, or niece, or best friend’s sister—or whoever. I’m pretty sure half of them just want new gossip material for their salon conversations.
Because if there’s one force stronger than human kind, it’s women in their forties trying to secure you as their future son-in-law.
And don’t get me wrong, it’s nice. Getting flirted with, being told I’m a “nice young man”.
I know they mean well. It just gets tricky trying to turn people down without sounding like a complete asshole.
I finally push myself off the door, dragging a hand through my hair. I need a shower. And a fake identity.
My Mom’s voice floats in from the kitchen, soft and full of warmth. “Ryan? Is that you, darling?”
“Yeah,” I say, toeing off my shoes at the door. “Just me.”
I drop my gym bag by the stairs and head towards the kitchen, the smell of cinnamon hitting me immediately. Mom’s been on a baking spree lately, so every day when I come home, it smells like something heavenly. Not that I’m complaining. At all.
I take one more step and enter the kitchen. Mom is standing at the stove, stirring something in a bowl.
“How was training, honey?” she asks, turning to face me.
I walk over to her and give her a kiss on her cheek. “Same as always.”
A second later, the front door flies open and footsteps stomp down the hall. “If I have to listen to that guy in class one more time, I’m going to scream!”
My little sister—Bailey—announces her arrival by dropping her backpack with a loud thud somewhere near the entry. I lean against the counter, already smiling. “Tough day?”
“Boys are exhausting,” she shouts, and I hear her shrug off her jacket in the hall. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
Bailey’s only sixteen but already sharper than most adults. She’s bold, brave, and feisty as hell. When she was nine, she tried to fight a boy twice her size for cutting in line. She won, by the way. That tells you about everything you need to know.
From the hallway, she launches into a rant about that same guy who keeps saying that “women are put on this world to make babies.” A second later she appears in the kitchen doorway. “I wanted to slap that shitty smile off his face—”
“Language,” Mom interrupts, turning to give her a quick glance, before turning back to stirring. And I just laugh, my gaze following Bailey again. “You sound like Kiara.”
“That’s like the biggest compliment ever.”
She grabs something from the fridge, and when she closes it, she takes one good look at me, her nose scrunches like I’m an outfit that is so not in right now.
“Don’t even think about hugging me,” she warns, taking a bite of whatever she just took from the fridge. “You smell like gym socks and men.”
I grin and step toward her anyway, arms out. “Come on, give your favourite brother some love.”
“You’re my only brother,” she huffs, “wouldn’t touch you with a stick right now!”
She ducks under my arm and hides behind Mom, who doesn’t even pause what she’s doing. I laugh and head toward the stairs. “Love you too, kiddo.”
Later that night, the three of us are curled up on the couch, devouring the dessert I smelled earlier.
Cinnamon and brown sugar cookies. They taste even better than they smelled.
There is soft music humming from the boxes, a couple of candles lit around the house, and three cups of tea sitting on the small table in front of us.
It actually feels like a home. Which wasn’t the case when Norman still lived here.
I stopped calling him my dad years ago—right around the time he got arrested for domestic abuse.
Turns out living with two strong women teaches you everything a father was supposed to anyway.
And Bailey’s basically a football sideline dad, so I never really missed that ‘father figure’.
Bailey sits across from me, earbuds hanging around her neck and wearing one of my hoodies she’s basically drowning in. She glances up from her phone, then looks at me sideways. “So… are you getting a girlfriend any time soon?”
I groan quietly. “Absolutely not.”
“Ugh,” she says, dropping her head back against the couch. “I just want a sister. Is that too much to ask?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Don’t hold your breath.”
She squints at me. “What about Maddy?”
I blink once. “What about her?”
“Well,” Bailey says casually, “Mel has Liam. Kiara’s gay. So statistically speaking—”
I toss a pillow at her face before she can finish, but she just grins. “You’re just scared of girls.”
I ignore her, reaching into my pocket when my phone buzzes. Three unread messages stare back at me.
Hey, are you seeing anyone these days?
My niece just moved back to town and—
I was wondering if you’d maybe want to grab coffee sometime?
I rub a hand over my face and sigh. At this point I’m half convinced there’s a small-town FBI sharing my contact info. But—because I’m not a dick—I respond back; really appreciate it, but I’m not looking for anything right now.
Not that it actually stops them, but they’re just gonna have to accept the fact I’m not getting a girlfriend anytime soon.