The Replacement (29 page)

My mom and dad kissing in the audience of my ballet recital.

Faces of people I’ve met over the years. Some I remember, many I don’t.

The Eiffel Tower.

Sunny glimpses of L.A., oleander blooming.

My mother laughing, my mother crying.

My father yelling.

Tee.

Jay.

Art, ink, and blood.

Ryder.

Ryder.

Ryder.

The camera drops to the carpet with a thud and the barrage of images rush to a stop. Cold metal presses against the side of my forehead and I suck in a final sharp breath, whispering, “I’m sorry,” and “I love you,” to no one in particular. I love life, even though I fucked mine up. I hope that counts for something.

I wait for the bang. I wait for darkness, for someone on the other side. Instead I get a “click.”

Click, click, click.

Kylie’s finger is pumping the trigger, stunning Christian and me still. Warm wetness spreads beneath me. I’m not sure if it’s from me or Christian. A beat passes and Kylie laughs, dropping the gun at her feet. Her hand snakes into her skirt pocket and retrieves a fistful of bullets. Her palm flattens as she shows them to us, then lets them tumble to the floor. “Don’t flatter yourselves,” she murmurs. “I’d never throw my life away over garbage like you.” She wipes her palms together as if brushing away dust and grime and strolls unevenly across the bedroom. She disappears out the door and a shudder of aftershock rocks my body before I fall and collapse next to Christian. I slide down, slipping on the floor, one arm draped over the edge of the bed, fingers clinging to the bedspread.

A door slams downstairs, and a muffled thumping pounds relentlessly in my ears, against my temples. I shut my eyes and pray for the numbness to swallow me whole.

***

My body sways gently. Weightlessly. The back of my neck aches, as do my knees. Suddenly my head and back make contact with something soft and comforting. There’s an exchange of voices, a jingling of keys. A door shuts and the voices stop. I think one of them was Christian’s. Something warm, gentle, and rough skims my forehead, replaced by something cool and damp. The softness I’m resting on dips at my side, and I think Christian’s back.

“Elise,” a voice whispers, quiet and soothing. My eyelashes flutter, looking for his face. The voice is familiar, but it’s not Christian. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” I mouth, unsure if the sound came out. “Christian?”

“Christian left.”

“Left?”

“I’m here for you. You’re not alone. It’s okay.”

My mouth is dry, voice gravelly as I fight to open my eyes. “Ryder?” My vision blurs, then comes into focus, and I see his face: unshaven, handsome, no dimples. “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

He brushes my hair back and removes the cold dampness from my forehead. He sets the washcloth on the bedside, next to my dream jar. Thank God, I’m in my bedroom. And Ryder’s here. My stomach churns and I groan.

Oh God, Ryder’s
here
.

“Christian said you’ve been calling out for me. He called me.”

“Am I hurt?” My hand lazily slides up to cup the back of my head, searching for an injury.

“No, you’re okay. You’re safe. You’ve just been sleeping. I think the shock…” He swallows and takes my hand. “You’ve just been in shock.”

“Christian called you? How…”

“Your cellphone. I guess when you kept asking for me, he scrolled through your contacts to get a hold of me.”

Christian spoke to Ryder. Ryder spoke to Christian. They met. I’m not sure this night could get any worse.

“Is he hurt?”

“No, he’s okay, too. He went to the police. He’s going to pursue a restraining order.” As my vision continues to clear, bringing his rugged, weary face into view, I shift to sit up. My back hits the headboard and I flinch. “Easy. Just take it easy.”

“I can’t believe you came for me.”

He averts his eyes and grinds his jaw, reaching for the washcloth. He fidgets with it, folding it open and closed. “I was worried.”

The night’s traumatic events slowly begin to unravel in my mind, turning and rolling as they feed me the memories. As groggy as my head is, as weak as I am, there is so much I want to say to Ryder. I want to tell him that he was the last thing I saw before Kylie pulled the trigger. That all I could think about was being loved by him and how seeing his face over and over made me want to give him that love in return. But reality looms, grim and defeating.

I burned him and returned to Christian Walker.

“It’s more than typical daddy issues,” I say instead.

Ryder’s head lifts and his gaze floats to mine. “What?”

“That day, I said I had typical daddy issues. That you wouldn’t want to hear those things. But what I didn’t say is that it is more than that, and the issues are far from typical.” Ryder’s eyes are intent and unmoving, fixed on me like I might disappear if he blinks. My throat feels like sandpiper, the coarseness painful, but I continue anyway. “The way he treated my mother…it was abhorrent. He never hit her, not once. But the things he said…”

“Elise, you don’t have to do this now.”

My hand inches out to seek his. My fingers graze the cool cloth that rests in his fist. “He was a nasty drunk. Thought about raping me once. Never said it aloud. Didn’t need to. I knew what he was thinking, could feel his thoughts all over me, like spiders crawling. I’d always been scared of him—of his words. Never scared like that. Not until that night.”

Ryder releases the washcloth and squeezes my hand. He listens.

“I watched my mother jump through hoops, constantly seek my father’s approval, right up until she died. It was always so sad…so sick. They were both sick, in different ways. It used to confuse me. I used to be angry because I didn’t understand it. But one day it just all…clicked.”

Ryder shifts and the mattress dips at my side. His eyes are heavy as stone. “What did?”

“That fighting it was useless. Accepting it was the only option. They were broken. I was a product of that dysfunction. There was no use trying to change what I was. That’s an uphill battle. It’s exhausting.”

“Elise, you’re not your parents.”

“But I am,” I say, sitting up farther, letting my head roll back on the headboard. “There’s no use denying what you are. The best thing you can do is accept it. Own it. At least then, you know your place in the world.”

“Your place?” Ryder squints, shaking his head softly. “Elise, your place in the world is what you
tell
yourself it is. You make that decision.”

“And I have. Don’t you get it?”

“No. No, I don’t.”

“I made the decision to let all of that define me. Somewhere along the way…I stopped swimming up the current. I’m a crutch, Ryder. For people like Christian.” A shadow passes over Ryder’s expression, shielding him in pain. It passes, but I don’t pretend to miss how Christian’s name affects him. “For men like Nate. People who don’t want to commit to definition. Who want to live a lie. They find me, I find them…because they need someone like me.”

“Someone like you?”

I lean forward, threading my fingers tighter with his. “Someone disposable. Someone who
knows
she’s disposable.” My lips press together as I swallow, holding his gaze. “My parents didn’t do this to me, Ryder. My mother’s cancer, the abuse, none of that is responsible. I chose this all on my own.”

“But it affected you. All of it did. It’s fucked up. Life is fucked up. It plays a role in who we become. You’re right, though.” He reaches up and skims my lips. “You’ve made your choices.”

My chest cracks, and I feel something for the first time since I’ve woken up. “Do you still believe I can change?”

Ryder’s eyes turn glassy. He holds my stare. “Quand on veut, on peut.”

The ink on my hips seems to come alive, tickling my skin. I want to crush my mouth to his, want to beg for forgiveness and tell him to make me his girl. I want to be his something.

“Ryder?” I whisper. “You said you’d never just drive away. Is that still true?”

A muscle along his jawline pops and he leans forward, planting a kiss on my temple. “Sometimes you have to just drive away. Get some more rest. I have to get going.” The strange mixture of hope and fear melts from my expression, and my eyes drop to the blanket. Ryder stands and pulls at it, lifting it up to my chin, carefully tucking me in. “You’re safe now. If you need something…just call Jay. He knows you’re not feeling well. I didn’t give him any details, don’t worry. He thinks it has something to do with you and Natalie arguing.”

“Okay,” I croak out. “Thank you.”

He nods once and turns for the bedroom door, stopping just before he exits. “There’s something on the kitchen counter for you. For later. Goodbye, Elise.”

He disappears and an aching breath shudders through me. My world crumbles at my feet, imploding beneath me until there’s nothing left but soot and dirt and the residue of his words, sticking to my skin. I have no idea where to go from here. How to recover from the event at Christian’s that nearly cost me my life. But I do know one thing for certain, just as my mom said I would, when the time came.

I know I am in love with Ryder Jacobson. And it’s too little, too late.

CHAPTER 15

Some of the strength returns to my limbs. I pull myself out of bed and step into the shower, letting the hot water wash away my sins. I made sure to lock the bathroom door behind me. Paranoia eats away at my insides, and it sinks in then that I might carry the consequences of last night with me for the rest of my life. I rest my forehead on the tile wall and close my eyes as the water beats at my back. I wince when I hear the clicking of the trigger. It echoes in my mind, haunting me like restless ghouls in a graveyard.

Drying off, I decide to wander out to the kitchen to make some hot tea. It’s too soon to even think about returning to work, but I need to at least call Jay and touch base. He needs to know he can depend on me. I refuse to disappoint Jay any more than I already have.

Feeling fresher and more alert, I wrap myself in my soft terrycloth bathrobe and make my way into the kitchen for the first time since Ryder left. I’d dozed off afterward, content to just block the world out for a while. Between the trauma and Ryder’s visit, I must’ve been wiped out, because I’d slept through the night. When I see what’s sitting near the kitchen counter, I stop in my tracks.

Stevie.

Ryder’s telescope, the one he and his friends all chipped in to pay for, propped up on its stand. A bright yellow tag hangs from it and I move forward. My fingers latch onto the yellow tag and flip it over, exposing the text.

Some of the best things in life are free,
it says.

I smile wryly and stare at the card for a moment, scanning the text over and over again, trying to understand why he would give me something that means so much to him, let alone means so much to his friends at the campground.

A small wooden box sitting on the edge of the counter catches my eye and I make a move toward it. I feel along the edges, getting a closer look at the design. It’s not faux wood. It’s real. Carved by hand and hollowed out. It even smells good. I reach over the counter and turn on the kitchen light. An image of a tree, similar to Ryder’s tattoo design, is carved on the top lid with my name etched beneath. I feel the beveled words, letting the roughness prick at the pads of my fingers.

I hold my breath and open the box.

A sticky note is attached to a wrinkled red envelope, boasting the same handwriting as Stevie’s yellow tag. It reads:

Some of the best things in life cost money, too. But they’re worth every penny. P.S. It’s already been cleared with Jay.

Curiosity burns as I release the sticky note and spot the candy cane label beneath it, addressed to me. I recognize the envelope now, and it makes me even more eager to see what’s inside. Quickly opening the back flap, I pull out a long, rectangular ticket. My hands begin to shake as my name comes into view and I register the airline name running along the top. Those aren’t the most important details, though.

The destination is Paris, France. Charles de Gaulle International Airport (CDG). The flight leaves three days from now and returns to Seattle-Tacoma International Airport seven days later. My hand cups my mouth and wetness sneaks up on my lids. I glance back to the bedroom, my gaze landing on my dream jar. There’s certainly enough there to pay for a hotel stay. Enough for food. I’ll have to be thrifty, but I can swing it. This is what I’ve wanted. This is what I’ve been waiting for. This is my dream. This is everything.

But it’s from Ryder.

I broke his heart, then trampled on it. He met Christian. He knows about Nate. He knows about everything. There are no more secrets, no more barriers between us. Nothing that protects him from the ugly truth. Accepting his love is frivolous enough. How will I ever accept this on top of that luxury? And how did he pay for this? Airfare to Europe is a fortune, and while I know Ryder isn’t broke, he’s certainly not raking in the dough. He lives in a tent six months out of the year, for crying out loud. Granted, that’s by choice, but this…this is too much.