I’ve just started on eggs when Ryder walks into the kitchen, with messy morning hair and a weak smile. Still, he’s never looked more gorgeous. His gray sweatpants and white t-shirt remind me of my Ryder before everything went to shit between us.
I smile at him, “I thought I’d give Maria a hand. Coffee?”
“Yeah, sure. You didn’t have to do this. We’d have made do.”
“It’s okay. I needed to keep myself busy. I hate being idle.” I pass him a piping hot mug of coffee, then pour myself my second cup, then stir through the scrambled eggs.
“The cop is still outside,” he says, running a hand over his face. And I’ve seen a news van.
“They’re vultures. The last thing you or your mom need is them camping out there.”
“There is just so much to be done. I don’t even know where to begin…”
“You don’t have to figure it all out alone. I’m here. Dylan will be, too.”
“Ash…why’re you doing this? After the way I treated you.”
I let out a sigh, then walk over to stand next to him. “Because I care Ryder and you need someone to care. Everybody does.”
He’s about to respond when his mom walks into the kitchen.
“Hi, Ruth.”
She smiles sadly as I approach and wrap my arms around her. After making her some coffee, I leave the two of them alone to talk, then call Dylan and Marcy.
ChapterTwenty-Six
RYDER
The last few days have been a blur, contacting family and friends, arranging a funeral, and dealing with the endless stream of questions from the police, all while trying to support my mother, who seems to be falling apart at the seams. My father’s sister, the hateful bitch that she is, arrived and tried to poke holes in my mother’s statement of self-defense. As if she didn’t know the kind of monster her brother was.
Now I sit with a half-empty bottle of bourbon in my father’s study, with the French doors open to let air into the stuffy space. It’s been raining all day, and it hasn’t let up. It soaked the earth beneath my feet at the cemetery, then pounded down on the roof of my car as I drove home. The funeral was just that, a funeral——a bleak affair, attended by at least three hundred close friends and business associates.
Only a few joined us at home after. My mom’s sister, an aunt I actually like, and Maria are with my mom now, providing me with an opportunity to break away from the guests and take a moment to breathe.
A tentative knock at the door has me looking up to find my girl leaning against the doorjamb. Can I even call her that anymore? She’s been here, by my side, since the first night. She held my mom’s hand when she cried, and held mine when I needed courage. But that isn’t an indication that all is forgiven. I have a lot to make up for.
“Do you need some company?”
I pat the space next to me, and she walks over to join me. The black dress she’s wearing is a little distracting.
“Long day, huh?” She reaches for the bourbon and brings the bottle up to her lips.
“Something like that,” I say, taking a long sip when she hands the bottle back to me.
“Today will be the longest, but not the hardest.” Our eyes meet. “I know your father did some despicable things, and you’re still angry, and you have every right to be. But tomorrow and the day after that, when the crowd is gone, and it’s just you and your mom, reality will set in, and that’ll be the hard part.”
Letting out a sigh, I look at the fire. “You know the worst part is that I don’t even miss him. Not after everything…So maybe there won’t be a hard part.”
“There will always be a hard part, Ryder. You may not feel it now, but there will be. Because you’ll mourn something, even if it is simply the man he should have been.” Her hands rest on mine, and I close my eyes.
“I never sent that video, Ash.”
She nods, “I know. Will told me you didn’t.”
Turning my head toward her, I nod, then take another sip of bourbon before setting it down. “I should check on my mom.”
“I’ll come with you.” Ash stands and extends her hand to me. I take it. A truce, I suppose.