SEAN HAS BEEN MIA ever since Ryan was arrested.
It’s 2 a.m., Ryan’s court date is tomorrow, and I can’t sleep. We’re staying in the guest room of my aunt and uncle’s house. It was easier than coming in early from the city, since Ryan’s court appearance is at eight in the morning.
The tension between us has been as thick as exhaust fumes in a tiny condominium garage. And tomorrow everything is going to change. Somehow, my Uncle John rigged Ryan’s case to end up on Judge Reynolds’ docket. Not like that’s illegal or anything. Shelly was able to work a deal with the prosecutor to get Ryan into drug court, which is like an intense probation. He’ll have to move back to New Jersey and in with his mother. God help me. He’ll be heavily monitored, frequently drug tested, and mandated to attend a substance abuse program. He may not be a drug addict, but they’re sure as hell going to treat him like one.
The silver lining? He won’t be in jail.
I don’t know what the next three months are going to be like for us. I start my last semester of law school in a few weeks, and I need to concentrate heavily on that, but I also know the distance from Ryan is going to kill me.
Ryan starts to whimper in his sleep again. He’s been having nightmares ever since he was arrested. He avoids the subject when I try to talk to him about it, but it doesn’t take a genius to know what he’s dreaming about. Prison. It’s his emotional response to the fear of the future and stress of the past.
Ryan suddenly shoots up out of a dead sleep. He’s panting, sweating, and swearing all at the same time.
“Hey,” I rub his back soothingly, “it’s okay.”
Ryan drops his head back, his bare chest expanding and contracting, but he doesn’t speak. So, I ask the dumbest question imaginable. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” His response is terse as he falls back down onto the pillow.
“You know you can talk to me, Ryan. If you’re scared, tell me.”
I’m so sick of him pushing me away.
“I’m not scared, Alana. I’m pissed off.” He rolls over.
“Is that why you’ve been so distant?”
He blows out a hot breath, reluctant to talk. “Yes, but I don’t want to be.”
“Then, don’t be,” I plead.
“I don’t know how else to be right now. I don’t want to end up taking my anger out on you. It was enough you saw me go after Sean.”
“He got what he deserved. I sort of wish you hospitalized him,” I mumble.
We wouldn’t be in this mess if you had.
“Alana don’t say that,” Ryan snaps. “He’s my brother, and he’s sick.”
“Is that why you didn’t push harder to find him?”
“Excuse me?” Ryan rolls over forcefully, his arm brushing across the satin of my camisole.
“Why didn’t you push harder to find him, Ryan?”
It didn’t seem to matter how many times Ryan badgered his mother about Sean’s whereabouts, she told him the same thing every time. That she didn’t know where Sean was. Which is a complete crock of shit, and we both know it.
“Don’t be ridiculous. What did you want me to do, send out a search party?”
“Yes. If you’re really so concerned about what’s going to happen to you, I think you would have tried harder to find him.”
“Oh, really?” Now he’s straight-up mad.
“You know what I think? I think this is exactly what happened seven years ago. You’ve been put between a rock and a hard place, and you don’t want to be the cause of something bad happening to Sean or your mother, so you suck it up and pay the price for all of them.” Maybe that’s why he didn’t involve me the first time. He knew I would have talked him out of going through with it.
“Everything will be fine. Shelly spoke with the prosecutor, I’m going to plead guilty, take the deal and be done with it, then move on with my life.”
“What life?” I erupt, “You’re not going to be able to leave the state of New Jersey and Vegas is shot.”
“Pipedream.”
“I don’t accept that.”
“You don’t have to, it’s not your life.”
“No, but one day it might have been our life, Ryan.”
“What do you mean, might have?”
“We can’t have a future like this. Always looking over our shoulders worrying about what Sean might do next.”
Ryan pauses, I can’t see his face in the darkness, but I can hear him breathe restlessly. “Am I going to lose you over this, Alana?”
“This? No, but there are no guarantees down the road.”
Ryan seethes, “Why does that statement not surprise me?”
“What?” I retort.
“You want to know what’s really a pipedream? The idea that someone like you could actually end up with someone like me.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I demand, irate.
“It means I’m just the interim, the dirty little secret in your past that your future will never know about.”
That statement just stabbed me right in the heart.
“You know what?” I throw the covers off me. “Now you sound like Sean and your mother. If you want to believe the pauper never ends up with the princess bullshit, fine. But don’t think I’m going to sit here and put up with you saying hurtful things to me just so you can push me away. I’ll go, freely.” I shoot out of bed and stomp toward the door. “But let me leave you with a little reminder before I go.” I grab the knob. “I distinctly recall you telling me that you were never going to take the fall for Sean again, yet here you are. Going in front of a judge tomorrow, handing him several years of your life for something you didn’t do.”
“I’m not going to jail.”
“Not this time, Ryan”
“Not ever again.”
“Do you really believe that? Because what’s going to happen the next time Sean uses your name? Or borrows your car? Or shows up on your doorstep looking for a place to live with a Ziploc full of heroin in his pocket? He’ll never change if he knows there are no consequences for his actions. So, you’re right about one thing, I’m not going to stick around to have a future with you like that.”
I storm out of the room and down the stairs. Goddamn it, why did I ever give up smoking?
I find myself in the kitchen. A room that’s bright and airy even in the dark. I flick on a small light underneath the cabinets and sit down at the table, dropping my head despondently onto my arms. Ugh. If I thought Jack the Stripper was a challenge to deal with, I was in no way prepared for Ryan Pierce.
Walking away from him is the last thing I want to do, but how are we ever going to have a future like this? Constantly looking over our shoulders, worrying how Sean might destroy our lives next.
“Alana?” Ryan’s voice is guarded in the shadows.
“Yeah?” My voice doesn’t sound much better. I don’t pick my head up as he walks toward me, the wood floor creaking underneath his footsteps.
“I don’t want to push you away.”
“And I don’t want you believing all the bullshit your family pumps into your head.”
“I don’t.”
“Ryan—” I argue cynically.
“I try not to,” he fires back rapidly.
I don’t know what else to say. I’m not in the mood to fight or lecture or preach. I just want to go back to bed with my boyfriend and pretend tomorrow is never going to come.
“Do you want to leave me, Alana?” Ryan asks anxiously.
“Do you want me to leave you, Ryan?” I respond softly.
“No,” he rasps.
“Then there’s your answer.”
“I don’t know what to do about Sean and my mom,” he admits self-consciously. “They’re the only family I have, and I’m terrified to lose them.”
“No one understands what that’s like better than me.” I turn and hug him, pressing my cheek firmly into his abdomen. “But they’re not the only family you have.”
Ryan clutches onto me. “I’m terrified to lose you, too.”
I must have paced back and forth a thousand times.
Ever since Ryan and Emily left for court this morning I haven’t been able to sit still. Since I can’t set foot anywhere near that courthouse, I sent Emily in my place for moral support. If I can’t be there for Ryan, at least he can have the next best thing. I keep telling myself that everything will be fine. The deal is on the table and has already been accepted. All Ryan has to do is stand in front of Judge Reynolds, plead guilty, sign some paperwork, and leave.
So, what the hell is taking so long?
The massive front door of my uncle’s home suddenly swings open as Emily enters. She’s wearing a casual pant suit with a long black coat, her dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail.
She’s accessorized perfectly, but is missing one key thing: Ryan.
“Hey,” I bum rush her. “Where’s—”
She puts her hand up, silencing me. The grave expression on her face telling me something went terribly wrong.
“Em?”
“Alana.” She’s shaky as she holds back the tears. “Judge Reynolds was rushed to the hospital this morning with appendicitis.”
“What?” My voice shrinks.
“All of his cases were redistributed to other judges.”
The floor suddenly feels like it’s quaking.
“Em, what are you telling me?”
“He went in front of your father.”
All I can do is shake my head fervently as she speaks.
“He rejected Ryan’s plea. He remanded him and scheduled his sentencing for next week.”
“No, Em,” I refute. “Everything was worked out!” I’m in complete denial.
“Shelly tried to push for the deal, but your dad was adamant.”
“Twenty years, Emily. That’s what he’s going to give him. You know my father.” I become frantic. This can’t be happening—Ryan isn’t supposed to go back to jail.
“I know.” She tries to hug me, but I just push her away.
“Don’t.”
“Alana,” she breathes my name sympathetically, but I’m not having it. My thoughts are in an uproar as I pace around the foyer. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.
“Give me your keys,” I demand.
“What?” Emily replies flabbergasted.
“Give -me -your -car -keys, I need to go somewhere.” I hold out my hand sternly.
“Where?” She puts the keys to her BMW in my palm.
I take them hastily, but I don’t answer. I head for the door without even grabbing a coat—Emily calling my name.
I pull into the parking lot of the Americana diner, tires screeching to a halt. Without losing momentum I storm out of the car and into the cold, December air, praying to God Ryan’s mother is working. As soon as I walk inside I see her standing behind the counter in her pink shirt and black apron. I put on the most composed mask I muster and stalk quickly up to her. I don’t want to make a scene, but if she doesn’t tell me exactly where Sean is, I’ll turn this place into a Bon Jovi concert at Madison Square Garden. I may not be able to cry, but I sure as fuck can scream.
I don’t give her the chance to say hi, hello, or good morning, assuming she’d even be that hospitable.
“Where’s Sean?” I demand in a low voice.
She hesitates, gazing at me with distrustful eyes. “I don’t know.”
“You’re lying. Tell me.”
“I haven’t seen him in over a week.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t know where I can find him.”
She huffs and looks away, a worn expression on her face.
“Ryan is sitting in a jail cell for the second time because of Sean, and it’s clear you’re not going to do a damn thing about it. So, I am. Now, please, just tell me where he is,” I press forcefully.
She sighs painfully, and I know she’s torn between giving up one son to save the other. “It’s no place for a sweet girl like you.”
I lean over the counter enraged, my blonde hair falling forward. “If you don’t give me the fucking address, I’ll show you just how sweet I can be,” I boil.
She glares at me, stunned. Moments pass like decades as I hold her over the fire. Finally, reluctantly, she pulls out the pad from her apron. She scribbles something down, then rips off the paper and hands it to me.
“I hope you’re prepared for what you find,” she extends contemptuously.
I snatch the piece of paper, turn around, and leave without even so much as a thank you.