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He shakes his head in disbelief, then barks out a harsh laugh.
“Why didn’t she just lie? This guy’s pointing a fucking gun at her head. I get it, people aren’t always thinking clearly in scary situations, but…Christ. Tell the man with the gun you love him. But she didn’t, and it got her killed. The second she admitted she didn’t love him, he pulled the trigger. Just like that.” Ryder snaps his fingers, amazed. “It was so loud. I’ve never heard anything that loud. My ears were ringing. Mom’s body fell to the floor.”
My heart rate is dangerously high. I wasn’t even there, and I feel the fear, visceral in my bones. “Did he try to hurt you too?”
“Not at all. He just walked out of the bedroom, told me to follow him. We went to the living room, and he sat on the couch, gun on his knee. He asked me to come sit beside him.”
“Oh my God.”
“So I did. He picked up his glass of whiskey from the coffee table and just started sipping it. Someone must have heard the shot and called the police, because it wasn’t long before we heard the sirens. It was only about five minutes before they showed up and took him away.” Ryder uses air quotes to repeat himself. “‘Only’ five minutes. Longest five minutes of my life. Five minutes of sitting on the couch with him while Mom’s body was in the other room, bleeding all over the floor.”
I feel like throwing up. Gulping through the nausea, I wrap my other hand over his hand, trapping it between both my palms. “What happened after that?”
“He was arrested. Child services got involved.” Ryder offers a shrug. “Dad didn’t have any family, and the few family members on Mom’s side didn’t want to step up. So I got thrown into the system.”
“Did it go to trial?”
“No, he pled out. Life in prison with the possibility of parole. I had to give a witness statement to the police, though. They asked a million questions, and I didn’t really understand any of them because I was six years old. All I knew was that my mom was gone.”
His eyes become misty. Before I can stop myself, I reach up and stroke the underside of my thumb over the moisture there. He flinches, just slightly, but doesn’t push me away. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against mine as I wipe away the tears.
“Anyway, that’s it. That’s the story. I share a name with the man who took my mother away. And every time someone calls me that fucking name, I hear her screaming it that night. When I was in the doorway and Dad suddenly noticed I was there, he spun around and pointed the gun at me. Not as an intentional threat. Just instinct, I think. But Mom screamed, Luke, stop. And Christ, I still have nightmares about it. I hear her screaming my name. His name.”
I climb into his lap and lock my arms around his neck. Holding him. But I don’t know if it’s more for his sake or mine. This chilling glimpse into his childhood has shaken me.
“So that’s why I hate it, all right? I don’t want to think about him. I want to pretend it never happened.”
I pull back and meet his red-rimmed eyes. “You can’t, though. Because it did happen,” I say quietly. “I can’t even imagine how painful it was, how painful it still is when you think about it. But pretending it’s not there doesn’t help anything. Isn’t that what you always tell me? To just let myself feel things even if they’re not pleasant?”
Still, I get it now. The reason he put on that aloof front. This catastrophic event that shaped his childhood left him in self-preservation mode. Protect yourself at all costs. I don’t blame him one bit.
“Trust me, I felt it all,” Ryder says hoarsely. “I felt it all the time. And then I was done feeling it. It was time to move on. I decided to go to school on the East Coast and get the fuck away from Arizona. Put it all behind me—my dad in jail, my mom dead, those godawful foster homes. All fucking behind me.” He gives a dark laugh. “The one thing I can’t put behind me, though, is my own name.”
“Yes. Your name,” I repeat and cup his face, forcing him to look at me. “Your name is what you make it. I’m sure there are many, many people out there who were named after a parent that was a monster. You just have to do something better with that name. Be better than the monster.”
Ryder’s gaze locks with mine. “I’m not like him.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
“No, I mean that’s not the reason I avoid the name. I’m not worried I’m going to end up like him. I know I won’t.” He speaks with strong conviction. “I don’t think I’m going to snap and kill someone. I know myself and what I’m capable of. It’s the reminder, that’s all. The reminder of this shitty place I came from. This shitty person I’m forever tied to, at least genetically. I hear my name, and the past comes rushing back, when all I want is to leave it in my dust.”
