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“There wasn’t time for talking. I gave him a quick kiss, but it was really awkward. I don’t know if that’s because I was using my leg to separate the girls who were pulling each other’s hair, or if it was a vibe I was getting from him.”
Imani gave a musical laugh. “Ryker’s not a fan of crowds. Even if it’s his family, he sometimes gets anxious. I think it has to do with his PTSD.”
“What if I spooked him with that slip of my tongue?” Bryce asked, while in her head she wondered if it was a slip at all. Were those her true feelings coming out when her filters were set to “off” position after the day’s chaos?
“I wouldn’t overthink it. Just text him and schedule your next get-together without the girls. I’ve got an idea. He’ll be operating the sound and lights for this year’s dance recital, and since your girls will be backstage, you can spend time with him then. But don’t distract him too much—we’ve got a rehearsal and recital to get through!”
After Bryce hung up with Imani, she’d texted Ryker with the idea, and he’d replied with a thumbs-up, saying he’d see her Thursday for what had become their weekly run. He wasn’t able to come to PattyCakes for lunch because he’d had to work on a car towed to his shop. While he’d sent her a couple of mechanic jokes and she’d sent him some of the best pictures of the two of them together at the car show this past weekend, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He seemed…distant. Like he was looking to put some space between them—cool it off.
By the time Wednesday arrived, life with the girls became a shit show of epic proportions, eclipsing any relationship thoughts altogether. It was parent-teacher conference night. After booking Shama Patel to watch the girls, Bryce had headed to Wellsville Elementary School for conferences. First, she had Addison’s pre-K teacher, Mrs. Stackowitz, followed by Mrs. Dawson, Cecily’s second-grade teacher, then she had to scoot over to the middle school across town to meet with June’s four teachers.
The Paynes had insisted on attending each conference.
“We need to know how our only granddaughters are doing,” Harvey said. “Academics were very important to our Heather—”
“And to Bentley,” Bryce had interrupted hotly. “Just because he came from a blue-collar family doesn’t mean he didn’t want the best education for his girls.”
“Which is why it’s important for us all to be there,” Harvey had continued, as if he hadn’t delivered a put-down of omission toward his former son-in-law. “We won’t make a peep the whole time. We’ll let you do all the talking.”
For the most part, they had done just that. Which was worse than having their two cents, as with every constructive or negative piece of news from the teachers, their body language was all crossed arms and disappointed indignation.
Bryce felt like she was just barely hanging on for Thursday’s dance class, when she finally got to see Ryker. As soon as she’d deposited the girls with Imani and ensured her cell phone was in the pocket of her yoga pants, she met Ryker in the parking lot. She threw her arms around him, breathing in the scent of motor oil, Lava soap, and his warm goodness underneath. He returned her embrace, kissing her deeply until one of the dance moms beeped at them, the sound as judgy as the stare she gave their public display of affection.
They both laughed, and as Bryce launched into a retelling of the past few days, it seemed as though the weirdness from her Sunday evening outburst was behind them.
“I couldn’t even look at them when June’s teachers—every one of them except the language arts teacher—said she was close to failing,” she told Ryker as they jogged over the bridge and onto Maple Avenue.
“Failing?” Ryker asked, scowling.
Bryce elaborated. “I’ve been doing my best to help her, but I wasn’t a star student myself. It’s been years since I’ve done algebra, and how am I supposed to help when I can’t look at a book—it’s all on her iPad. I’ve been watching freaking YouTube videos on the quadratic equation in my spare time, which only happens to be when I’m sitting on the toilet at this point!”
It was probably TMI, but she didn’t care. She’d waited all week to see Ryker, knowing she could off-load all of this to him and he wouldn’t judge. The wind gusted chilly from the overcast day as they jogged through the back streets of Wellsville. Most of the houses had spring gardens, with green shoots of irises and tulips peeping out from clumps of snow next to daffodils whose yellow petals drooped with the day’s earlier sleet and wind. The flowers were much like her life—she wanted to be hopeful, but fate’s hailstorms kept wreaking havoc.
“I can help tutor. I’m volunteer checked with the school, so I’m legit,” Ryker offered, but he seemed distracted as they ran, constantly looking down at the sidewalk pavement, lending a feeling of obligation to his words.
She was quick to decline. “That’s sweet, but I’m not even sure when we’d fit it in. I can barely get June up for school, and afternoons are hectic between waiting for the little girls’ buses to arrive, finishing my shift at PattyCakes, then fixing dinner. What I need is a freaking life partner. If you know of anyone who can fit the bill, I’m accepting applications.”
As soon as those words left her mouth, she regretted them.
When she looked at Ryker, his concerned expression morphed into a blank, ready-to-receive-orders Marine RBF. She’d meant to highlight how hard it was parenting alone, not to push him to declare himself to her in any way.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you before tonight, but this week has been nuts,” Ryker began. “It’s about us. Well, really it’s about me. Shit. I’m not doing this very well. Let me start over.”
But before he could, a vehicle slowed, beeping at them. It was Drake’s vintage black truck, and the Knight of Nightmares himself was behind the wheel.
“Sorry to interrupt.” Drake leaned toward his open passenger window to talk, pushing his dark-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been looking all over town for this guy. Ry—Mom’s at the house and wants to speak with all three of us. She’s acting…strange. Zander’s with her, and she sent me to find you when you didn’t answer your cell.”
Ryker pulled out his phone, grimacing. “My bad. I must’ve had it on silent. I’ll jog back to the studio with Bryce, then I’ll be right there.”
“No, you go ahead.” Bryce read the worry etched on Drake’s face. “I’m literally a block away from the studio. I’ll be fine.”
Instead of hopping into Drake’s truck, Ryker took her by the shoulders, capturing her gaze. His work-callused palm cupped her cheek, the caress sending delicious shivers like electric shocks through her skin. From the intensity of his expression, Bryce expected something big when Ryker spoke.
But all he said was “We need to finish this conversation. I’ll call you later.”
The words hit like a punch.
“O-okay,” Bryce said, her chest tight. She returned an all-too-brief goodbye kiss from Ryker, their lips barely touching before his scowl was back in place.
