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I now understand Xavier’s earlier cryptic text.
“Since when have you believed that? Was it since that night you saw the trophy in my office?”
“No, it was literally—” She tries to explain, but I don’t let her finish.
“Why on earth would you think I did it? Of all the boys who were members of the Greenwich Society, and all the outsiders who attended Greenhouse parties, why would it be me? You must think very low of me, Stella.”
My head pounds, threatening to split open, and I head toward my room.
“Ry, baby, please” Her anguish makes my chest tighten. I don’t need to see her to know she’s crying. I hate it when she cries. “Ryan, please don’t walk away.”
“Come with me, then,” I snap, heading straight to the dark bathroom to use my Zomig spray. The relief is almost instant, but leaves me craving my bed.
She leans on the doorway, “Ry, I’m so sorry.”
“Tell me why?” I ask, turning to face her.
“Viv described her attacker as a large blonde man wearing a certain ring. An heirloom. A gold ring with three gemstones: sapphire, turquoise, and aquamarine.”
“Jesus Fucking Christ,” I gasp, my breath hitching. “You saw that ring in my bathroom cabinet, didn’t you? That’s why you left.”
“Yes,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Is… the ring yours?” she ventures, her voice laced with dread.
“Yes, it’s mine,” I admit. “And there’s only one like it in the world.”
“Dear God.” Her knees buckle at my admission, and I move quickly to catch her, preventing her from collapsing onto the marble floor.
“Baby, listen if only you’d asked me, I would have told you who hurt Vivian,” I say, hoping to soothe the panic I see swirling in her eyes.
“Who was it?”
“It was Don Fairchild. Seven years ago, I lost that ring to him in a poker game, the day before I left for the lake house.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Stella
I can’t stop trembling as Ryan continues to hold me. My tears flowing freely, I cling to Ryan like he’s the only thing that makes sense. A sense of closure overwhelms me, but so does dread, regret, and red-hot pain.
The key to finding out everything was always with Ryan. “I should have trusted you.” I sob against his chest, my tears wetting his t-shirt.
He cups my jaw with both hands. “Hey, look at me. You went through something incredibly painful. I’ve been through endless grief too so I know what it does to you.”
I let his soothing words wash over me as he drops tender kisses on my forehead, my eyelids, and my wet cheeks. “Baby, you have me. I love you no matter what. And I’ll make him pay.”
He takes my mouth, and I curl my hands around his wrists, returning his kiss with all I have. Tonight’s revelation has gouged the scabs off old wounds and left me bleeding, but I can’t deal with the hurt right now. Right now, I need to feel something else. More than Ryan’s forgiveness and acceptance. More than the blinding pleasure I’ll find in his arms.
“I want more,” I murmur against his lips.
“I know.”
No, he doesn’t.
“Ryan” I moan, tearing my mouth from his and going on tiptoe, I place open-mouthed kisses on his neck and collarbone. Driven by the need for more, I drag up his shirt until he helps me remove it.
