Storm Front (The Charistown Series) (Volume 2) (28 page)

“Ryan.” Her fingertips brushed lightly over his shoulder. He
looked up and noticed a gleam in her eyes—one that hadn’t been there for a long
time. “You were already getting in my pants, so I guess I was dumb enough to
believe all of your sweet talking. We were a good pair back then.” He was
certain the airy tone of her voice was intentional. She was trying to lighten
his mood and pull him back from the dark place he was treading so close to
entering.

“It took everything I had not to punch him in the goddamn
face tonight.” Ryan switched topics.
Anger is better than pain any day of
the week
, he thought to himself. “I’m not sure what’s going on with him,
but Lyla didn’t deserve one fucking word of the shit he spewed at her. When he
reached out to touch you…God, Ashley, if Danny hadn’t been there,” Ryan’s voice
dropped to a growl, “everything I worked so hard for, would have been for
nothing.”

Her raised eyebrow asked the question before her voice did,
“What are you talking about, Ry?”

“Ashley, you weren’t the only one making changes during the
time we were apart. Didn’t you ever wonder what I was doing during all of that
time?”

In the four years they had been living together, not once
had they ever spoken about their time apart. In fact, other than the one time
when she’d told him about losing her virginity, they’d avoided discussing those
years completely. She never spoke of anything regarding her past—her
relationship with Ryan, her brother, or life in Miami. Those were things that
were best left in the suitcases in her mind. She didn’t need anything in the
bags, so why open them?

Shame slowly weaved its way through her chest, wrapping
itself around her lungs and gripping her airway. No. She refused to think of
those days. They needed to stay in the dark so she could continue to burn bright.

“Ash, really? You never once asked yourself why I didn’t
come for you?” Complete shock and something akin to disappointment clouded
Ryan’s beautiful features. “Nice, Princess. Nice to see I meant so much.”

“Ry, It’s just…” She tried to come up with an excuse, but
how did you explain to the person you once loved more than anything in the
world that you wanted to pretend they’d never existed?

“Save it, Ash. It doesn’t matter.” He shifted on the couch
putting a small distance between them. She missed his warmth immediately. “But
you should know, in that time, I spent hours—hell, months—working to fix
myself.” Her eyes flared at him in astonishment. She scanned his face for
traces of humor or dishonesty, but all she saw was a man stating the truth.

“I went through grief counseling to deal with the loss of my
mother, anger management classes to deal with my need to lash out, group
therapy to face the guilt of everything that happened with Leo, and more
counseling to handle losing you. Not once did I blame you for leaving me, but I
was burying myself with guilt and I wouldn’t…no,
couldn’t
stop torturing
myself over my stupidity. I never stopped loving you. I just wanted to give you
a better me—the kind of person you deserved to have in your life. Once I felt like
I’d got control over who I was and where I wanted to be, I went to your parents
and begged them to tell me where you were.”

Ashley was reeling from information overload. She barely
remembered any of those months, and here he could probably account for every
minute of every day that had passed during them.

“So my parents told you I was living in Pennsylvania and you
came here?”

“Christ, no. Your mom just laughed in my face and told me to
go to hell and your father told me that while he’d failed Leo in every way
imaginable, he’d be damned if he did that to you. He said you wanted to
disappear and he would help you do that. He told me that he’d always liked me
and that he was sorry for being such a horrible father to his kids, but that he
wouldn’t help me find you. So I was on my own.” Ryan let out a huge sigh and
let his head fall to the back of the sofa.

Ashley was speechless. Her father had finally stepped up.
He’d let her do what she needed to do and for once he’d respected her
decisions. She laughed to herself, bitterly. Had her father known her at all,
he would have sent Ryan to her sooner, knowing his presence would have been
exactly what she needed. She’d been lost without him, and his love would have
made her journey easier.
Oh, well, it is what it is,
she thought.
I
got through it on my own and I’m still standing…kind of.

“So if he didn’t help you, how’d you find me?” She knew the
answer to this question. She’d overheard him talking about it years ago, but
they had never discussed it. But since the past was on the table she thought
she’d get some answers.

“Do you really want to know this, Ash?” She tucked a purple
strand of hair behind her ear and nodded once, prompting him to continue. “When
I realized that your parents were never going to give in, I hired a private
investigator. You really were amazing at covering your tracks. We followed a
bunch of dead leads before we finally tracked you here. I wasn’t shocked that
you ended up in such a quaint little town, but I was surprised that you never
returned home. Not for me. Not even to visit Leo.”

His words were a punch in her stomach. She couldn’t contain
the cringe they caused and she knew he saw her reaction by the way his eyes
rounded. “Ryan, I told you when I left that I felt lost there. I had to go. I’m
sorry if it hurt you, but you hurt me first.” She winced at the childish way
the words sounded coming from her mouth. “And as for Leo, I know he’d
understand. He never wanted anything but my happiness.”

“What do you think I wanted for you? My God, Ash.” His voice
was thick with frustration and anguish.

Ashley’s heart beat wildly in her chest. She couldn’t do
this with him. She couldn’t start relieving a past that had nearly killed her
the first time. She was about to stand up and leave the room when Ryan reached
out and grabbed her hand. As he squeezed, the pain and remorse in his eyes was
almost tangible. All she wanted to do was reassure him that life would be all
right—that
they
would be all right—but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. He
had changed. He’d learned to be a better man. But her—she’d run, she’d hidden,
and she was just barely treading water. She didn’t deserve the patient, loving
man he’d turned out to be. She didn’t deserve happiness at all. Leo didn’t get
his happiness because she was weak, and she wouldn’t allow herself happiness
because Ryan had been so strong.

Ashley could feel the color as it slowly drained from her
face. Her mind was racing with thoughts. She had to distance herself more. More
space, more room, more time apart…

“Princess, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start with you
tonight. I just…” He paused. “I wanted to explain why I was the way I was back
then, why tonight pushed my buttons, and why I let you go instead of fighting
harder.”

“Ry…” His expression was loving - filled with strength and
possession. That was Ryan, he wanted to fight harder, but she knew she wasn’t
worth his fight. She had nothing to give him. He deserved better, a whole
person. Selfishly, however, his pleading look over-ruled all of her notions. If
she was going to let him go, she wanted one more night in his arms.

As if he could read her thoughts, he leaned in and whispered
softly into her ear. “Princess, please, let me just hold you tonight. Nothing
else needs to happen. I just need you in my arms. I need to feel you breathing
and know that you’re really here…”

He had to know she couldn’t say no to him when he looked at
her that way. He had to know that the thought of being wrapped in his woodsy
scent and held in the shelter of his strong arms would cause a chink in her
armor that would take days if not weeks to repair, but he’d asked anyway. There
was no way she could turn him down. Not when she ached as much as she did for
the security only Ryan could give her.

His shoulders slumped under the weight of the world as
Ashley leaned in close and ran her palm down the strong line of his jaw. She
noticed the jump of the muscle under her hand. “Relax, Ry. I’m gonna lock up
the house—why don’t you turn on a movie and we can rest together on the sofa.”

She smiled as she turned off the lights around the house and
locked the front door. Watching a movie was her way of saying they would sleep
on the sofa together. She heard him sigh loudly and then kick off his boots. By
the time she returned to the den, their favorite movie was playing and he was
lying down with his head perched on his arm. As if it had been yesterday and
not years ago, she laid down next to him, her back to his front and allowed
herself to meld into his warmth.

Exhaustion seemed to overtake him because once he had her
settled, his arms wrapped tightly around her, she felt his heartbeat begin to
steady. The smooth strokes of his thumb on her ribs went from sexy and playful
to slow and sedate, until, finally, she felt his breaths whisper soft against
her neck. He’d fallen asleep with her tucked into him like a security blanket
that he would never release. Not ever again.

Lying there wrapped in Ryan, Ashley was filled with hundreds
of thoughts and just as many emotions. She traced the tattoo on his forearm with
her index finger
. Se souvenir le passé, vivre le presente
. Well, she
wasn’t quite living in the present as much as existing, but it was what she
needed to do because Lord knew she didn’t dare dream of her future when it took
all of her effort to hide from her past.

Hours passed as he slept soundly behind her. She knew from
years of living together that Ryan didn’t sleep well. She knew this because
they spent countless nights sitting at the island in their kitchen drinking
tea, discussing silly things during the hours most people slept. During the
time before he’d come back into her life she’d spent those hours alone, staring
aimlessly at the television, praying for sleep to take her. In addition, Ryan’s
presence had brought her company during the sleepless nights and for that, if
nothing else, she was profoundly grateful. Feeling the rise and fall of his
chest against her back, and knowing that he was experiencing peaceful sleep for
the first time in countless nights, she stayed put, even though her mind begged
for her to disengage.
You’re getting too close
, it said.
You don’t
deserve him.

As the early morning sunlight bled through the windows in
the den, Ryan felt coolness seep through his body. Even in sleep he knew the
presence that kept him safe and warm through the night was no longer there. He
slowly opened his eyes to confirm what his brain already knew.

Ashley was gone.

Don’t Wait Up

WRITING LYRICS TO an awesome musical
arrangement always filled Ryan with an incredible sense of euphoria. It gave
him a way to clear his mind and say the things he needed to say without facing
embarrassment for his unrequited love, or recourse for his anger and
frustration. In high school most of the band’s songs had been written by him,
Ashley, or the two of them combined. Their songs were saturated with feeling
and emotion and he truly believed that was the reason why their band gained its
following as quickly as it did.

After Leo’s death, Ryan never played with a band behind him
again. He couldn’t bring himself to perform without his best friend backing him
up so he decided to step off the stage and write the songs instead. It’d taken
him a while to tap into his creative mind after Ashley left Miami, and him,
behind. However, once he did, the words began to flow like water from a hot
spring. While the lyrics never quite touched his soul like they once had, his
songs became relatively popular in the music industry—keeping his mind busy and
his pockets lined with cash.

Hearing the clunk of Ashley’s car door closing in the
driveway, he peeked out his bedroom window just in time to see her leaning into
the back seat to grab her gym bag. The sun had just set, leaving beautiful
streaks of oranges and purples swirled through the sky and the iridescent glow
of the outside lights to lead her from her car to the house. Quickly, Ryan slid
his notebook and recording device into the plastic storage container and slid
them under his bed. It wasn’t that he was hiding his song writing from her—she
knew that he still wrote music—but other than the stuff for
Leo’s Lights
,
they never discussed lyrics anymore. She heard him play his guitar, she knew he
played at open-mic nights, but other than that she didn’t ask and he didn’t
tell.

He wondered if she ever thought about the other guys from
Storm
Front
. Did she know that after Leo died and Ryan left the band, Jayson and
Zane tried to move on and went nowhere? Did she realize that those he’d once
considered his family just turned their back on him when his best friend died?
No, she probably didn’t because that was the past. They didn’t speak of the
past. Just another one of those unspoken rules between them. God, he hated
those fucking rules.

Ryan clicked on the television in the corner of his room. It
was eight-thirty in the evening and unusual in that neither he nor Ashley had
to work—something he hoped to use to his advantage. He wanted to talk to
Ashley. Actually sit and spend time with her. Not only hadn’t they discussed
what happened between them on Sunday night, but she’d acted like nothing
happened at all—like he hadn’t shared the most intimate details of his life
with her, and they hadn’t spent the night wrapped in each other’s arms. She’d
stowed away their evening like baggage checked at the airport, and he’d
followed her lead and let it go.
You can’t keep doing this, Baker. When are
you gonna man up?
He grabbed his guitar by its neck and thoughtlessly
started strumming a tune he hadn’t played in years.

Ashley toed off her running shoes and slid them under the
narrow table in the hallway. The jingle of her keys landing in the metal bowl
next to Ryan’s was muted by sounds coming from upstairs. “What the hell?” she
muttered.

The chords of
Hazel Eyes
drifted down the stairs and
through every inch of their home. That used to be one of her favorite songs.
Ryan had written that song just for her, and she’d practically swooned every
time she’d heard it, but no matter how much she loved it and begged him to
share it with his fans, he never did. He claimed it was his private love letter
to her and no one but her would ever hear it. He had kept that promise and,
true to his word, this was the first time she’d heard it in close to seven
years. Sadness and loss washed over her skin like the sand in ocean water, and
she felt rubbed raw by the long since played, but unforgotten tune. Shoving
aside her sadness, she stomped up the steps and straight into the bathroom,
slamming the door behind her. She knew she shouldn’t have ignored him, but she
couldn’t stop to acknowledge him in any way for fear of completely breaking
down. So she flipped on the shower and stepped under the spray, allowing the
hot water to burn her skin until it finally turned cold.

Not until he was halfway through the melody did he even
realize the song he’d chosen. His fingers had begun to play as if they had
intentions of their own. Minutes had passed when the realization hit, visions
of a seventeen-year-old Ashley asleep on her bed as he penned
Hazel Eyes
played
through his mind’s eye. His memories vanished with the sound of the bathroom
door. Keyed up by the feelings the song had brought to the surface and
frustrated with the childish behavior of her silence, he turned his television
up louder and relaxed into his bed. Soon after, he watched Ashley leave the
bathroom and head straight to her bedroom closing the door behind her.
There
will be no conversation between us tonight
, he thought.
God, I’m such a
wimp.

Thirty minutes later, Ryan found himself relocated
downstairs sitting in solitude on the sofa, with a beer in one hand and the
remote in the other. While absentmindedly flipping through the channels lost in
thought, his irritations mounted at their inability to fucking communicate.
Just as he landed on the channel he was searching for Ashley suddenly appeared,
dressed in her favorite ripped jeans and a black Paramore concert tank top.
Disconnecting his stare before she noticed, he forced his eyes to focus
directly in front of him, but sensed her movement as she headed toward the
door. “I’m meeting Janie at Sombrero. It sounds like Max, fucked up,
again
.
Don’t wait up.” His gaze never left the TV as he purposefully gave an absent
nod in response to Ashley’s information. He heard the door click closed behind
him, and even with the sound of the TV, he found himself drowning in the pain
of their silence.

His indifference stung as she pulled the door closed behind
her.
He didn’t even turn his head to look at me,
she thought
.
It
amazed her how completely attracted to him she remained, even after all this
time, yet he was able to act like she didn’t exist. He was able to sleep with
all of these other women while she barely noticed other men unless she was
serving them from behind the bar. That’s why she refused to even think about
the night they shared recently.

God, that night.

He’d opened up to her in a way he never had before. She’d
fallen asleep with him at her back, wrapped in his warmth—his heartbeat in time
with hers. Although, just before the sunlight of the morning painted the room,
she’d known she needed to get away from him. There was no way in hell she would
be able to treat that night like it was nothing. She wouldn’t be able to
trivialize it—to make it a casual evening that could be forgotten in the
daylight like the rest of his flings.

So she’d done what she’d trained herself to do. She’d pushed
it down and made like it never happened. Yes, it looked like he wanted to
discuss it every day since, but there was no way she’d be able to tolerate any,
“Thanks for listening, I’m glad we’re friends,” bullshit from Ryan Baker. Or
worse, what if he wanted to take things further? She couldn’t handle a
relationship any more than she could handle rejection
.

Yep, bury it, Ashley.

Bury it all
.