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Ryker grabbed his crutches from where they leaned against the Smith machine and made his way over to the garage workbench for his protein shake, eager to put some distance between himself and his brothers. He knew they only wanted to help. But their help wouldn’t resolve the chaos he’d inadvertently caused for Bryce—a woman he was attracted to, but more than that, a woman he respected and admired. How many times had he relived the moment when he’d held her after she’d stumbled? How many times had he caught himself chuckling, recalling her funny mechanic jokes? Something about being with Bryce and her nieces was transformative. He’d felt like a different man this past week—one who smiled, was lighthearted. Almost as if the PTSD-addled Ryker were gone.
And look what letting down his guard had done.
He glared at the rearview mirror and emblem, recalling what happened when he let himself get distracted. You’d think he’d have learned.
Zander snapped his fingers, bringing Ryker’s attention back to the present. “Wait. You’re secretly practicing a drag routine so you can be the newcomer act at Hamburger Mary’s, aren’t you? For what it’s worth, I think you’d rock a Britney Spears look.” Zander tilted his head in consideration. “Although your voice is more Miley Cyrus. With a little manscaping you might be able to pull it off, but you’ll have to get some fresh razors, dude, because you’re as hairy as a Yeti in winter.”
Ryker narrowed his eyes at his younger brother, mentally counting how many strides it would take to tackle him to the ground when Drake, interpreting his bro-lephathy, intervened.
“Zan, quit it. He obviously likes Bryce. His epic run to CVS was pretty much an all-caps billboard announcing the fact.” Drake’s dark eyebrows rose, a pensive look on his face. “Which, by the way, I have to know: did the cashier say anything to you? The scene keeps replaying in my mind, and I need some resolution. Or at least some dialogue.”
Ryker felt his neck and ears burn. He chugged the rest of his protein shake and slammed the metal Tervis to the table, making a terrific clang.
“Can’t a guy buy a box of tampons without the whole town losing their damn minds?”
“Yeah.” Zander scoffed as Ryker crutched over to take his place on the overhead press. “But you practically bought the wholeaisle, dude. Everyone’s curious who this woman is that has a tough Marine panic-buying period products. She must be something special.”
“Mom says Bryce is incredible,” Drake intervened, his voice neutral. “But Mom wasn’t super thrilled to hear through the rumor mill—and by rumor mill, I mean Adele Payne—who told Mom that you, uh, pretended to be—”
“Elise’s baby daddy,” Zander finished, shaking his head. “Dude. What were you thinking? No good relationship starts with a lie. You should be up front about who you are: scars, PTSD, and all. That’s what I did with Imani, and she still fell in love with me.”
“Proof there’s a sucker born every day.” Ryker ground his teeth, racking the bar and sitting up on the bench, feeling like he’d get more satisfaction from jabbing a fist at his brother versus this workout. But inside he was debating about coming clean to everyone, not just Bryce. What would it be like to tell his family that despite the fact it had been years since his last deployment and injury, his PTSD seemed to be worsening? How would it feel to admit that his HO was getting to the point where he was going to have to take action—drastic, under-the-scalpel action—to get it resolved? Could he ask them to help shoulder the weight he’d been carrying?
His eyes flitted to the yellow VW front end bolted to the opposite garage wall.
No. While he might not be actively serving, once a Marine, always a Marine, and Marines endured. Pain was just weakness leaving the body.
“Zander’s right. You need to fix this,” Drake said.
Frustration boiled in Ryker like an overheated radiator. “Fine! You two are so brilliant with women, what do you want me to do?” He’d meant to sound sarcastic but was embarrassed when it came out as a desperate plea. He cleared his throat, choosing a firm, military-approved, tone. “I should’ve corrected Bryce a long time ago when she’d assumed I was Elise’s dad, but I didn’t. I screwed up and it’s over!”
“You’re being a tad dramatic, bro.” Zander shoved him off the weight bench. Ryker stood, watching as his younger brother inserted himself under the bar, pressing it up easily a few times before re-racking the weights, gesturing for Drake to take his place.
Drake shook his head, taking the standing leg press machine instead as he spoke. “Fixing this is as easy as pie.”
Zander cried out. “Yassss, that’s it! Bake for her. She’s a chef, right? She’ll dig that.”
Drake shook his head. “No offense, Ry, but I’m not confident anything you’d bake would be…edible. I was thinking more along the lines of an act of service. Somethinghelpfulto her.”
Ryker shrugged. “My only skills revolve around cars and engines, and guess what? She can drive anything—literally anything—with wheels, plus she’s got her own tool set. She doesn’t need a grease monkey.”
In frustration, he used his right leg for the short, six-inch jump to catch the chin-up bar with both hands. Although he’d already done a set there, he did a few more to beat away the feeling of ineptitude that rose up to swallow him whole.
“But she does need help with the kids, right? I mean, we only have one child, and it’s all Kate and I can do to manage Elise and work full time. I can’t imagine how much harder it is as a single caregiver.” Drake lifted his chin to forestall Ryker’s argument. “You’ve got a truck with plenty of room to haul little girls. Start there. Go to the school and complete whatever paperwork you need to help with the back-and-forth to school, then offer up your services.”
“That’s not going to…” Ryker stopped speaking, his brain finally catching up to his brother’s words. He hopped down onto his right leg, his body alert. “Wait. Could I do that? You’re not fictionalizing solutions, Drake?”
Drake scowled. “I never fictionalize solutions—”
Both Ryker and Zander burst out laughing.
“Duuude,” Zander snorted.
“Bro.” Ryker lifted an eyebrow. “You write novels for a living.”
Drake rolled his eyes, but he was laughing.
“I’m not making this up. You’ll probably need Bryce’s signature for permission, but at least you’ll have the first step done.”
