Breaking Ryann(13)

“You’re doing good,” he whispers.” Keep breathing.”

“I got you,” he says, untying my trembling hands. He rubs gentle circles over my wrists, then glances at my face before turning to give me some privacy. I pull up my shorts and panties, letting him know when I am decent. He scans all my tiny cuts from the glass. “Can you walk?”

When I nod, he orders that I wait across the street.

Shaking my head, I don’t budge. I won’t budge, not without him.

“He won’t touch you. You’re safe. It’s just until the cops arrive.”

“I don’t want to be alone.” My voice is unrecognizable.

His gaze fixes on Ronald. He’s bound, gagged, and blindfolded on the floor. Luke had threatened to blow him to pieces. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near this shit stain,” he says with his jaw clenched tight. I think he’s going to make me leave.

Tears roll down the sides of my cheeks. “I don’t want to be alone,” I say again,

choking back a sob.

“Shh. It’s okay.” He sits, stretching out his legs. “We’ll wait together. I won’t let

him hurt you,” he soothes beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, making me feel safe. “I’m here.” He presses his lips to the top of my head. “I’m just sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

“You okay?” Luke brushes a tear from my cheek. The gentle gesture only confuses me, and I roll my eyes to keep the rest from falling, “No,” I sniff. He’s still lying between my legs. With a heavy heart I just stare at him, trying to figure out why. “No. I’m not okay, Luke.” How could he do this to me? I’ve trusted him since I was eight years old. “You’ve ruined me. You know that?”

His face falls, and he moves off me, placing his head in his hands. His hair’s sticking up through his fingers.

I keep my tongue at the roof of my mouth, trying not to break down in front of him. “You’ve taken a piece of my heart that I’ll never get back. How could you do this to me?” It’s hard to get the words out. “I keep going over the past. It’s all just so confusing,” I say, biting my lower lip. “You can’t possibly understand how much you’ve hurt me. Blindsided me the way that you did. I … I thought you loved me.”

His head snaps up. “I do love you.” He swallows. “God, I love you more than anything.” The anguish on his face makes my heart constrict.

“I don’t know if I can do this. I need time to think.”

Looking pained, he says, “I’m sorry. I’ll say it every day for the rest of my life, and I know that still won’t be enough.”

I move toward the exit, and then as fast as I can to my car. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” I hiss. Once it’s unlocked, I climb in and slam the door shut. When cranking the engine, I hear a click then nothing else. C’mon, c’mon. Don’t do this to me. Cranking it again, I yell, “Shit!” I slap my palm against the steering wheel, accidentally blowing the horn. The driver door opens, and I don’t need to look to know who it is. I can feel him whenever he’s near me. Not to mention it’s still too early for anyone else to be around.

“Sounds like the battery. Need a ride?”

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, then slowly nod. Could this be any more humiliating?

He watches me from under his lashes. “We’re gonna have to take my bike.”

Resting my hands in my lap, I fight more tears. “That’s fine.” I used to not be a crier, but I swear he brings it out of me. I’ve never cried more tears than I do for this man.

When he holds out a hand, I take it, climbing out of my car, before I move past him.

He walks behind me. “Let’s go home.”





I haven’t talked to her since that morning her car broke down, when I’d given her a ride on my Harley. It had gutted me, seeing how much I’d hurt her. I’d been surprised she’d agreed to let me take her home.

She hesitates before climbing on the back of my bike. I place a helmet over her head, tightening her chinstrap. She works hard at holding back her tears, chewing on her lip the way that she does.

“Stop hiding them,” I tell her. “I deserve to see them. For Christ’s sake … I put ‘em there.” After all these years¸ you’d think we’d be past this.

She nervously wraps her arms around me, interlocking her delicate fingers. “It’s embarrassing, being emotional in front of someone else. When I was a kid, I was taught that crying was a sign of weakness.” She scoots up so that her thighs press snuggly against my hips. I close my eyes, savoring the feeling.