Chapter Thirteen

Megan

 

 

 

 

There are many things in my life I just “know.”

Like, I know that even though I’m an accountant, I will tear my hair out at tax time. I know that the second I pick up the phone to order Thai, Chrissy will walk through the door. It’s like she can smell my takeout thoughts.

Every day, a thousand small things happen that I just . . . know.

Just like I know that when I walk out the door tonight, Ryder will be waiting for me.

When he surprised me at lunch, I didn’t really know how to react. He said all the right words, words that hit me in all the right places.

Now I just hope I don’t live to regret what I said.

My leg bounces under my desk. I wonder what will happen when I see him again? We have so much history that being with him feels like home. On the other hand, so much of it is unresolved that I'm constantly on edge around him. We’re going to need to talk about everything, and I know that is a huge reason why I am so anxious.

“Miss Hendrix, how is everything going?”

Mr. Duncan appears in front of my desk, the standard issue, incredibly unflattering strip light bouncing off his shiny head. There was a time when he attempted a comb-over. Thankfully, it was a short-lived phase because keeping a straight face around him had been torture. He’s such a straight-laced guy, it still makes me wonder why he’d agree to have me doctor the books at the MC. If this all goes to shit, his neck will be on the line, too.

I smile. “It’s going well.”

“Good, good.” He messes with a pot of pens on the edge of the desk, nearly knocking it over. I reach out and catch it. There’s an uneasy silence before he asks, “May I ask why you’re in this office today?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Just a change of scenery.” I shrug, hoping to play it off, not really wanting to go into any kind of explanation about Ryder and me.

“As long as it gets done.” He gives me a nod before heading back to his office.

Looking at the clock, I notice that it’s time to leave and grab my stuff. As I’m walking by Connor’s desk he stands up.

“Megan?”

I turn, knowing that however uncomfortable this might be, I deserve it. I’ve sent him mixed signals and feel like total crap about it, so this is my penance.

“So are you with him now?” His glance moves toward the front door then down to his shoes as he kicks at the leg of his desk.

I nod. Why is this so hard? “It's complicated. I'm sorry. I know we went out and I maybe sent you mixed signals but, honestly, it wasn't fair of me to say yes in the first place.”

He doesn’t respond, just gives me a quick nod and then walks away. Taking a deep breath, I head toward the door.

And toward Ryder.

As I push through the heavy industrial doors, I see him, standing next to his bike, under the shade of a huge tree. The dark jeans he’s wearing are tight, showing off his toned thighs and, if he turned around, I’m pretty sure they’d be hugging his ass. Ryder has always been the most attractive man I’ve ever met—even in high school. Now that he’s older, his appeal has only gotten stronger.

As I cross the street to get to him, I have no idea how to react.

Do I give him a hug?

Should I kiss him?

Before I can debate any more, he reaches out and pulls me toward him. “Tomorrow you’re back at the garage.” His lips press against mine and the familiar scent of him fills my nose and intoxicates me. “Missed seeing you all day.” His deep voice sounds in my ear, sending chills down my spine.

He hands me a helmet and my heart leaps at the thought of being on his bike. I slip the bulky plastic over my head and then, with his help, lift my leg over the bike, sliding in to sit close behind him, my legs encasing his thighs. His hands take mine and he wraps them around his waist, giving me a tug that forces me to rest my cheek on his back as he pulls away from my building. Being this close to him, having my body pressed against his again, feels right. If I close my eyes, it’s almost like we are kids again, like nothing ever happened to us.

Like nothing ever changed.

The bike stops and I open my eyes. We’re at my place. Nerves rack my stomach, jumping and weaving their way through my whole body because I know that as soon as we get inside, we’ll have to talk. Old wounds will be opened, and I'm nowhere near ready to do that yet.

My arms tighten around his, wanting to stay like this, locked in this bubble where we can just be close to each other. But I know that isn’t possible.

I slide off the bike, my legs like jelly as I take the first few steps toward my building. Ryder surprises me as he takes my hand, leading me toward the door, not letting go when I fish my keys from my purse and we walk inside.

The door closes and it’s like all the awkwardness is trapped inside with us, the air thick with it, making it impossible to ignore. I don’t know what to say, or how to start the conversation.

Ryder takes my purse from my shoulder and drops it to the floor with an unceremonious thump, his large frame immediately crowding me, backing me against the hallway wall, his hands coming to rest on either side of my head, caging me in. His head drops and I think he’s going to kiss me. I close my eyes.

But nothing happens.

I look at him to find him studying me, his gaze seeing me as if I’m laid bare to him. I’ve never been able to hide my feelings from him in the past. I don’t know what made me think I’d be able to now.

“What’s wrong?”

His breath is warm against my face. He’s too close. I can’t think straight. My hands go to his chest, applying a slight pressure that he reads because he backs away.

But not far enough.

I push at his chest, forcing him away from me as I begin to pace.

“What’s wrong? You can't just charge back into my life and think that we can pick up where we left off.” I turn back to face him, tears building in my eyes, hating them for being there. “Not after what you did to me.”

He laughs, but the sound is incredulous, which makes no sense. “After what I did to you? Jesus, Megan, you develop amnesia?”

“No, unfortunately, I didn't. Every day I remember all the pain you put me through. I tried to bury it, to bury you, but I never could. You left a scar on my heart that’s never healed.”

“Funny”—his hand runs through his hair—“that you’re putting all this shit on me when you fucking ended it! How can you play the goddamn victim when you were the one who screwed me over?” His voice echoes off the walls, louder in the enclosed space.

For the life of me, I can't figure out what the hell he is talking about.

“I screwed you over? I waited outside my house for eight hours, Ryder. I had a suitcase. I sat on that step, looking like an idiot, waiting for a boy who never came.” The tears start to fall and I swipe at them. I hate that I’m showing him how much he affected me back then. How he still affects me now.

“You really must have dreamt that shit. You told me not to come. All those messages about how you hated me, and I wasn’t good enough, and you never wanted to see me again.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I am so over these damn games. “I never texted you. I waited for you.”

The two of us stand there for the longest time before he walks closer to me. Taking my hand, he leads me to the couch, and as he sinks back into the cushions, a deep sigh leaves his mouth.

“The week before I was supposed to come back, I started getting these texts from you.” He pauses and looks at me, as if he thinks I'll miraculously remember what he's talking about. “You were saying that you were having second thoughts, you didn't think us being together after school was a good idea. I tried to call you but you never picked up. The day before I was supposed to come get you I got your final message. Something along the lines of you had always been too good for me, and you'd finally realized that. You said to stay away from you and that you never wanted to see my face again. You regretted everything we had together, regretted ever meeting me.”

He looks over at me and I'm speechless.

My mind goes back to that day. “I can't believe her.”

Specifically, how calm my mother was.