Chapter Twenty
Three stress balls sit in a line on Kenneth’s desk. I twist my hands, preventing myself from reaching out to grab one. It’s been forty-eight hours, and I’ve heard nothing from Ryan. A million ideas have trudged through my head, each one worse than the next. I even checked the local news, making sure there were no motorcycle accidents in town.
“A couple things. Culpepper settled Friday for a clean mil. A good result, and we avoided filing a complaint.”
“That’s great news.”
He barely acknowledges my words with a slight glance and continues talking. “I need the memorandum on the slip and fall case that I asked you to prepare. Email it to me immediately.” He glances at me. “That’s all for now.”
I stroll back to my office, the events of the weekend still at the forefront of my mind. After emailing him the letter, I send a message to Craig.
Sneaking to the kitchen for coffee. Meet me there in a minute?
Already here. Someone brought doughnuts!!!!
I smile as I walk down the hall. Craig has a half-eaten chocolate-covered long john in hand when I arrive. “These are phenomenal. Patty brought them in.”
Inspecting the box, I say, “I haven’t had one of these since a rough experience with a maple-bacon dough—”
He holds up a hand. “No need to tell me about any fauxnuts. Those should be exiled from any respectable doughnut shop. Notice Patty filled the box with only chocolate, cream, and sugar.”
Peering into the box, I select one with vanilla icing and sprinkles and take a tentative bite. “Oh my God, these are good.” I go in for a bigger bite. “I’d forgotten.”
“Clearly you should eat more doughnuts.”
“Solid advice.” I take a mug from the cupboard and fill it with coffee.
“I try. So how was your weekend? Wait! You had your big date. How did it go?”
“On a scale of one to ten, we’ll call it a one. Sadly, he got drunk and morphed into a lecherous asshole.”
“Ooh. Sorry, hon. That sucks.”
“It turned out okay. I ran into my trainer. He got me home safely.”
Craig perks up. “Your trainer? The guy you had burgers with who you have a harmless crush on?”
“Yeah.” I try to swallow back my smile, but it’s futile.
“I know that look. Spill.”
“The Englishman—Lachlan—only wanted to party and hook up. It sucked. But Ryan was—” I halt, searching for the right words. “He was protective and sweet. And we went for a run yesterday and took his motorcycle up the coast and had lunch and got stuck in the rain. And then we kissed.”
“All I heard was ‘we kissed.’ The rest was the scattered CliffsNotes version.” He cracks a smile.
“I know. I’m all over the place. But when we’re together, there’s this energy between us, like we’re our best selves around each other.” I take a sip of coffee, enjoying the warmth of the mug in my hands.
“That’s what I was talking about. That’s the key.”
“I hope so, but what if I’m wrong?” I set my mug on the counter. “What if I’m only imagining our connection, since it’s what I want to believe? He’s very charismatic, so he could just be ‘that guy.’ Do you think?”
“Doubtful. I’m ‘that guy,’ and there’s room for only one of us in this town.” He pats a hand to his puffed-out chest.
“You look like Kermit the Frog.”
“I was going for something less amphibian. So, back to your man.” He pulls his phone from his pocket. “What’s his name again? I want to see this guy who’s kissing you.”
“It’s Ryan Brincatt.” His name rolls from my lips, making them tingle.
He nods. “This him?” He flips his phone so I can see the screen. It’s a photo of Ryan at the gym. He’s working a bag, shirtless.
“Oh, yes. That’s him.”
“Damn. I can see why you’re all twisted over him. It sounds like he really likes you. Why the doubt?”
“Maybe I’m overthinking things. He texted me that night and said he was thinking about me, and I said I liked kissing him, and it was all sweet, so I kind of assumed he’d reach out yesterday, but he didn’t.”
He mulls this over, looking to the ceiling. “My professional opinion is that you have nothing to fear. He clearly feels something for you. No guy is going to spend the day with someone he’s ambivalent about, not to mention kiss that person. No need to worry.”
“Thanks, Craig.” I give his hand a squeeze. “I need to focus on how great the day was. And he did text me first, so that’s a good sign.”
“Exactly. It’s all good. I’m off to defend a deposition, but I’ll be around later if you want to talk.” He points to my doughnut on the counter. “Don’t forget your treat.”
I pick it up as he leaves. It looks so happy, all covered in colorful sprinkles. As I take a bite, I close my eyes as the sudden sweetness fills my mouth. Craig was right. I should eat more doughnuts.
My cell phone rings as I reach my office. Hannah. Although I shouldn’t take a personal call, this could be important, since she rarely calls me at work. Careful not to make a sound, I close the door and answer. “Hey, Hannah! How are you?”
“Thank goodness you picked up. I wanted to let you know as soon as possible. We’re not getting married in July.”
“Why? What happened?” A sinking feeling hits me, and my brain shifts gears to comfort mode. Bad things can happen when planning a wedding. Lauren’s older sister got married a few years ago, and she and her fiancé nearly called the whole thing off. According to Lauren, agreeing on what type of cake to serve and what style of music to play can send two otherwise loving people into battle mode. It’s sad. If you can’t agree on the small things now, what’s going to happen later? I wish I could reach through the phone and hug Hannah.
“We’re getting married next month instead.”
“Wait. What?”
“We’re having a Christmas wedding.”
“That’s so soon!” Before I can think better of it, I blurt, “Are you pregnant?”
“No! But Nikki is. She doesn’t want to be eight months pregnant as a bridesmaid. I don’t blame her. And a Christmas wedding sounds really cool.”
I sink into my chair. “That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you, and for your sister, too. Give her my best, okay?”
“I will. And our new date is December sixteenth. We’re having it at this beautiful Malibu estate that overlooks the ocean. Someone called to cancel as we were touring it. Can you believe it? It’s like fate! I can’t wait for you to see the place. I’ll text you some pictures.”
“Yes! Please do. And I’m putting the date in my calendar right now.” I smile into the phone. “I’m so excited for you. It’s all coming together, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. It’s wild. I’ll call you the next time we’re down there. I miss you!”
“Miss you, too. Talk to you soon.”
The gym is quiet but for the sound of gloves attacking a bag. My eyes travel to the source. It’s Ryan. His hair is slick with sweat, and his shirt hugs his muscled torso. I shove my things in a cubby and grab a rope, crossing to the far corner of the mats.
I stare straight ahead as I jump. For an entire minute, I keep my gaze fixed on the mirror in front of me, only allowing myself to look at the few women walking on the treadmills. But the sound of Ryan’s workout pleads with me to watch. My eyes flick to his reflection.
He’s savage.
Raw.
Intense.
My mind races down a path lined with warning signs and flashing lights, but I don’t stop it. Heat rises in my chest and neck as I imagine what it’d be like to have him in my bed, our bodies tangled together as he ravages me. Our eyes meet in the mirror for a fraction of a second, and I quickly shift my gaze to the clock.
The pounding of the bag stops, and he jogs over. “Shit. I lost track of time.” Ripping off his gloves, he says, “Jump for five more minutes. I’m going to change my shirt, and I’ll be back.”
I spin the rope around and around as I’ve done so many times before, the monotony of it doing nothing to calm me.
Ryan returns, and I gather the rope in my hands. His hair is damp, and he wears a fresh T-shirt that reads, “I’d flex, but I like this shirt.” “Sorry about that. I was in the zone.”
“I saw. It was—”
A loud bang cuts me off, and we both look toward the sound. Jasmine pounds the desk with her fists before shoving her hands through her hair. Ryan rushes over to her, and I follow.
“Jazz. What’s going on?”
She looks at him, her eyes desperate. I inch forward, curious. “My roommate just called me. He showed up at my place with a bag of lingerie and told her to make sure I wear it for our date.”
An uncomfortable laugh tumbles from Ryan. “Who?”
“The fucking computer guy,” she snaps. “The one I’ve been complaining about for, I don’t know, weeks? The one you joke about. Can you go find him and break all his bones?”
“I’m not sure that’ll solve anything, Jazz. Can you call the police?”
“What are they going to do?”
Pressing my hand to my forehead, I tell myself to think. I took a victims’ rights class in law school, so I should know what to do. I should’ve acted sooner when she first told me about him. But hindsight is not going to help me now.
“I don’t mean to butt in, but I think you need to get a restraining order filed against him.”
They both turn to me, and Jasmine says, “I thought they were only for abuse victims.”
“If I’m not mistaken, you can file for a civil harassment restraining order. And did you ever find out if he put spyware on your computer?”
“Javier has someone checking into it, but I don’t know if he’s figured it all out yet.”
“What the hell?” Ryan asks. “Spyware?”
“He knows way too much about me for it to be a coincidence. My social media accounts are private, so he has to be finding out stuff somewhere.” She sighs. “I want to punch something.”
I step forward. “Do you want me to help you file for a temporary restraining order?”
“Like right now?”
I look at Ryan. “You don’t mind if we reschedule, right? I feel like we need to deal with this now, so she can file everything with the court first thing in the morning.”
“Totally agree.”
Jasmine swipes a finger beneath her lashes. “Thanks, you guys. I’ve been trying to act like he’s just a pain in the ass, but I’m scared.” She presses her hands to her face. “I feel so stupid.”
Ryan steps around the desk and puts his arms around her. She grips his hands where they land above her chest. “Don’t. You did nothing wrong. You can crash at my place if it’ll make you feel safer.” He says the words softly into her ear, and I try to push off the army of green-eyed monsters that grip me. Will she sleep on the leather sofa, or will he give her his bed? Or will they bunk together, his arms wrapped protectively around her?
She peers up at me. “Where do we start?”
“Probably not here. I don’t trust your computers. Can you come to my place?”
“Ry? Is it cool if I leave early?”
“You don’t need to ask. Go.”
His eyes lock with mine, and I wish I could stay here in this moment and let everything else fall away. “Thank you for this.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Can you reschedule for tomorrow night, same time?”
“Sure.”
“Great. Good luck, ladies. Jazzie, text me later if you wanna come over, okay?”
“Yep. Thanks.”
The green monsters try to race back in, but surprisingly my mind forces them to retreat. Jasmine needs help. And I’m glad both of us are here for her.
My laptop whirs in front of us as we read the next question. She shoves her hands through her hair and rests her elbows on the kitchen table. “I have to do this, don’t I?”
“Yeah. Be as specific as you can. Dates, times—all that helps.”
She slides her phone closer to her. “I saved the emails and texts.”
“That’s good. We can print those to use as exhibits.” I turn back to the screen. “Would it be easier for you to type it in or do you want to tell me, and I’ll type it?”
She wraps her arms around her middle and stiffens. “The court probably wouldn’t appreciate a bunch of F-bombs, so you should type it.”
“Fair enough.”
“He, uh, he came to fix the computers, and was kind of annoyingly talkative, but you know me. I pretty much ignored him.”
She tells me how it changed, how he started to call, claiming he was following up, and then he began bringing her things and asking personal questions.
“You didn’t feel threatened at that point?”
“No, I was just frustrated, and I wasn’t going to let some smarmy little dude bother me.”
“And then what?”
“He started showing up wherever I went. If I was at the grocery store, he was there, too, acting like it was a coincidence. By the third time, I was like, this is no coincidence. He brought flowers to the gym for me with a bizarre poem attached about love and pain. It said something about bloody tears. I stuck it in an envelope and saved it. And then he started sending me these.” She opens her phone and shows me the pictures.
“Oh God.”
“Right? It’s bad enough he’s naked. But the words…”
I read quickly. He tells her he understands why she wants to keep their relationship a secret. He says he’ll wait for her. In vivid detail, he describes imagined sexual encounters.
“I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with this. Can I ask why you didn’t say something sooner?”
She shrugs. “I kind of did, but the guys would joke about him like he just had a harmless crush. And then I wondered if I was overreacting, so I downplayed it in my mind. It got to the point I felt like I had to hide it.”
“And then he showed up with the lingerie.”
“Yeah. My roommate was so freaked out she packed a bag and is staying at her boyfriend’s place for a few days.”
“You’re more than welcome to stay here for as long as you need. My roommate is great—she’d say the same thing.”
“It’s cool. I’ll probably just crash at Ryan’s.” Tears spring into her eyes. “Sorry. I hate that I feel like I can’t go home.” Her arms find her center again, and she hugs them to her. “But I’ll feel safe with Ry.” She laughs. “No one would dare mess with him.”
“He’s a good guy,” I say slowly. Does she have any idea we kissed? The urge to tell her—to claim him as my own—is strong, but I don’t breathe a word. Because he’s not mine. A loud voice in my head starts to protest, but I shush it.
“He’s the best. Maybe it’s because he has sisters.” She sighs and turns back to the screen. “Let’s finish.”
I want to delve deeper, to ask what she means by he’s the best. Is she speaking in general terms, or is he literally the best guy she knows? But it would be weird to quiz her on him now. So we work for another hour before I finally hit submit. Her request is with the court, ready for review. She texts Ryan to pick her up, and I make myself busy taking water glasses to the kitchen.
When he knocks, I force myself not to leap across the room to answer. I dry my hands on a kitchen towel and walk to the door.
“Hey.” Siri sits next to him, her gentle eyes looking at me expectantly. “I walked up, since your place is so close, and my girl wanted to see you.”
I kneel down to rub her chest, and she thanks me with an enthusiastic lick to the face. “I wanted to see her, too.” And you. “Come on in.” I stand and close the door behind him.
Jasmine pushes in the dining chair and grabs her purse. “Hey, Ry.”
“Come here,” he says, drawing her into a hug. It’s what he should do—it’s what I expect him to do, because he’s that kind of guy. I only wish he would’ve hugged me first.
As they part, she says, “I feel so stupid that it’s come to this.”
“Don’t.” His eyes fill with intensity. “Seriously. You had nothing to do with it. The guy…he needs help.”
“Thanks.” She turns to me. “Thank you, too. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m just happy I could help. And I’ll be here for the next steps, too.” I smile and sneak a glance at Ryan. His eyes burn into mine. It’s how he looked before he kissed me. Chill bumps spring across my arms and up my neck, and I brush my fingers across my lips.
He inhales and looks away. “Let’s go, Jazz.”
“Can I walk the dog?”
He passes her the leash. “Yep.”
She turns toward the door, but he hangs back. “Thanks, Katie. I—”
There’s a clattering of rushed footsteps on the stairs followed by, “Don’t pull, Siri!”
“You better go.”
“Yeah.” He bites his lip. “Bye.” He pulls the door closed behind him, and I flop onto the sofa.
My eyes fall shut. Is he going to tuck her in and kiss her forehead? Or will she crawl into bed with him? Maybe they’ll stay up all night talking, and she’ll tell him he’s the best. In my mind, she’s suddenly moaning, Oh, Ryan, you’re the best, the best. Oh yes! The best.
Shaking the horrid vision from my mind, I spring from the couch and head for my bedroom, pausing to grab my phone from the table. I slip off my shoes and set them in the vacant spot on my closet shelf. Tonight was strange for so many reasons. I never would’ve pegged Jasmine as a victim, but I suppose it goes to show there’s not a victim prototype. When I told her I was happy to help, I meant it. I wonder how many other women are out there who need help. As I reach for my pajamas, my phone dings.
Thanks for being the awesome person you are.
My heart flutters. It’s painful how happy one tiny text from Ryan makes me. As I reread it, another lights up the screen.
I really wanted to kiss you tonight.
Biting my lip, I type,
I really wanted to kiss you, too.
I stand in the middle of my room with my phone in hand, staring hard at the screen. But a minute goes by, and he doesn’t respond. And then another. I toss my phone to my bed and tell myself not to worry. It doesn’t mean he’s kissing Jasmine because I wasn’t around. They’re friends. That’s it.