“Ryne.”
I stare coldly at the one person I never wanted to see again for the rest of my life.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Paige?”
She’s aged for sure, but the woman I remember is still visible. Her eyes are the same shade as the ones seared into my memory—Rylee’s eyes are the exact shade of green—though there are small creases in the corners. Her blonde hair, now with a few streaks of grey, is pulled up in a ponytail. And what I remember most of all, that fake-ass smile, is directed at me.
“Baby, that’s not a way to talk to your mother, now is it?”
An ugly snort comes from me and I cross my arms over my chest. “You’re nobody’s mother. You don’t have any claim over us. Now I’ll ask you again, what the fuck are you even doing here?”
She taps a pack of cigarettes against her hand and then pulls one out. I’m not completely grossed out by smoking in general, but watching her light up and take a puff, blowing smoke out the window, makes me want to puke. I step back and wave my hand around to clear the air.
“I’ve been trying to reach you.” I can practically see the gears turning in her head, calculating her next move, figuring out how to work things to her advantage. “You never responded.”
“That’s because you’re a deadbeat and I want nothing to do with you.”
She plasters on that fake smile and tries to look contrite. “I’ve missed you and Rylee and want to start over.” My blood boils at her even daring to speak Rylee’s name. Clearly, I’m not well-adjusted, but all the shit Rylee went through when she left… nope, she doesn’t deserve to even utter Rylee’s name. She changes tactics. “I want to make amends, at least.” She’d abandoned us, not one word for almost a decade, and suddenly she misses us and wants to make things right? Nah, bitch. Jump off a cliff and die for all I care. You don’t abandon your two young kids and then suddenly show up here to try to repair the damage. I don’t buy that. Paige takes another drag of her cigarette, this time blowing the smoke in her car instead of in my face. “I thought maybe we could talk.”
“Okay, we just talked. You can go now.”
“Come on, Ryne. I know you’re a man now, now that you’re eighteen, but surely there’s still a part of you that wants your mom around. We could try to be friends.”
Ah, there it is, mentioning my age. And so it begins. I glare down at her. “And what is it you think we would do as ‘friends,’ huh Paige?” Her face perks up at my question and she smiles, but her eyes hold her true intent. She sees dollar signs when she looks at me, I guarantee it.
“You could come visit me in Florida.” She picks up a bottle of water from her center console and takes a drink, eyeing me the whole time. She’s such a slimeball she makes Jeremy look like an angel in comparison. “You could fly down. Surely you can afford to now, right? You got your inheritance, I assume?”
Dad earned a decent chunk of change playing pro-soccer and also had some life insurance. He had a will drawn up at some point that named Rylee and me as the sole beneficiaries, but because Paige and Dad were married when he died, she legally had a right to one-third of his assets. She took that money and ran. The rest is managed by a conservator—Uncle Nathan—until Rylee and I are each of age. We didn’t even know about it for the longest time. Nathan and Lily didn’t mention it until we were much older. Since I’m eighteen now I have legal rights to my portion. It’s not millions or anything, but it’s a sizable amount of money. I’d rather have Dad here and not have two pennies to rub together, but Paige doesn’t share the same philosophy. I’m assuming she blew through her money and wants to get her greedy hands on ours now.
I ignore her question and shift my weight to my other foot, keeping my arms crossed over my chest. “Say I come visit you in Florida, what would we do?”
She blows out a breath and leans her elbow on the window frame. “I don’t know, whatever you want to do. Talk, get to know each other, catch up on old times.” Right, because there aresomany good times with her I want to dredge up and revisit. I roll my eyes and hers narrow. “If you have a better idea, I’m all ears, Ryne.”
I glance down the road and catch sight of Nathan’s truck barreling down it like a bat out of hell. I turn back to Paige. “To be clear, in case you’re a little bit confused, you will never see a dime of my inheritance. And someday when Rylee turns eighteen, you’ll never get any money from her either.” Her smile falters and her eyes flash. I give her my own fake-ass grin as Nathan comes to a screeching halt behind her. “When did you want me to come visit? Does next weekend work for you?”
Paige glances in her rearview mirror. Her expression transforms into a snarl that kind of reminds me of a nasty bridge troll. She flicks her cigarette out the window and turns the key in the ignition as Nathan slams his door shut and stomps over. The look of pure, unfiltered rage on his face… if she doesn’t get the fuck out of here I may have to bail him out of jail tonight. She uses her last two remaining brain cells to step on the gas.
“Oh, but I was so looking forward to reconnecting!” I yell as she peels out. I turn and face my uncle, shaking my head back and forth slowly. I open my mouth to speak but my words get stuck in my throat. Nathan puts his arm around my shoulder and I find my voice. “That’s some fucked up shit, Nathan, her showing up here.”
He grits his teeth and pulls his phone out. “Yeah. It is.”
40
Dacen
Iget one thing figured out—what I want to study in college and maybe do for a career—only for another thing to go completely out of whack. I am so frustrated with Ryne. I’m angry. I’m sad. I want to smack him upside the head and be like ‘why are you fighting this?!’ I very nearly did the other day when I stopped at his house. This angry energy came over me and I had every intention of going there to give him a piece of my mind. All it took was one look at him, and the switch flipped to angry but wicked horny and desperate to touch him, and I gave him something else instead. I felt like an asshole afterward, even though I’m mad at him.
Fuck my life.
I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I know I keep saying that, but it’s worse each time. I can’t seem to extract him from my brain and move on, which is clearly what I need to do. I can’t bring myself to do it. We were supposed to meet up last night and it never happened. He never came. He never called. He didn’t respond to any of my texts. I was going to try to talk to him again, see what the hell is going through his mind. Ineedto talk through the whole camp thing. I still can’t believe that shit. Why the hell would he assume Bryce was telling the truth and not talk to me about it at all? But he totally ghosted last night.
“Ugh.” I roll over in my bed and yank a pillow over my face. My brain won’t calm down. Ryne’s cute face is there, front and center, taking up space he probably doesn’t deserve.
His first words to me were not exactly what you’d call romantic. ‘Who the fuck are you?’ he’d demanded to know, and God help me, even with that moody glare and those cold slate eyes, something snapped into place inside of me. I saw it in his face too, and saw the flicker of interest. To my fascination and his irritation, we were drawn to each other after that, over and over again. He somehow stole a piece of my heart with that first scowl. And he’s stolen the rest of it in bits since then.
The problem though when someone steals your heart is when they inevitably get buyer’s remorse—or would it be thief’s remorse?—and try to return it, it doesn’t fit back into place the same way. It’s different. When your heart gets stolen right from under your nose, it permanently changes. It shifts and transforms. It’s not in the same condition anymore when it gets shoved back at you.
It’s like trying to return a shirt you’ve been wearing for the last five months and playing it off as new. The cashier side-eyes you as she begrudgingly accepts the merchandise but as soon as you leave the store she’s gossiping about you with her colleagues. You’re not fooling anyone.
