Chapter Four
Three short knocks sent Ryder crashing to the floor the next morning. He looked at the carpet and up at the bay window and finally remembered where he was. Another knock, and Peyton’s voice carried from her bedroom. “I’m coming.”
Ryder pushed up on his knees just as her legs came into view. They stopped, and he raised his gaze to meet hers. It was part horror and fear. None of the lust that had clouded them last night during that brief kiss. Her eyes shifted to something behind him and then back. She crossed her arms over her tank top-covered chest. “What are you still doing here?”
He stood, struck by how deliciously mussed Peyton looked. Other than her color, she looked like she’d spent the night enduring hours of endless lovemaking.
The door shook again. “Peyton Brooks, open up, or I’m going to have Adam knock this damn door down.”
Peyton’s gaze darted between him and the interruption. Sighing, she threw the bolt. A second later a tall brunette pushed through. Ryder recognized her as Peyton’s sidekick from the bar last night.
“Are you okay? We’re supposed to meet at the diner. Whose truck is that?”
Peyton glanced at him and her sidekick followed the movement. Letting out a low whistle, she crossed her arms as a cat’s-got-the-cream grin spread across her face. Ryder stepped toward her, arm extended. “Ryder Marks for my sins, of which I’m assuming you believe are plentiful.”
The woman looked at his fingers and then back at Peyton, who looked ready to hurl. He let his hand drop and moved closer to her. “Are you okay? Should I find a bucket?”
She shook her head. “Ryder, this is my neighbor and best friend, Emily Conley.” Ryder nodded, still not convinced Peyton wasn’t going to be sick right there in the middle of her living room floor. Her color resembled something found in a pig trough and the smell was not much better.
The friend didn’t seem to be concerned. She tilted her head to the side and asked, “So, Ryder, where have you been all these years?”
Accusations tinted with malice formed the question and for the fifth time since having a drink thrown in his face, he wondered what the hell was going on with Peyton. Clearly her version of whatever happened wasn’t reflecting on him in any way positively. And why would it really? Although a small part of him had hoped she’d known him well enough to believe he had good reasons for doing what he did.
“Alaska,” Ryder answered at the same time as Peyton did.
“Alaska?” Emily questioned as Ryder looked at Peyton. He hadn’t realized she knew where he’d been all these years, though now knowing the relationship she had with his parents, it didn’t surprise him that his mother would have told her. Peyton grabbed her friend’s arm and tugged her back to the door.
“Ryder, excuse me for a minute.”
He nodded and turned to survey the living room. He hadn’t spared it, or the rest of her house, much thought last night, essentially collapsing in the overstuffed sofa after putting Peyton to bed. In the light of day, it was an airy, lived-in room, with a fireplace in the center of the far wall. Pictures crowded every available space on the mantle. The front door shut, and Ryder looked back to see that Peyton and Emily had stepped onto the porch.
He moved closer to the mantle and the adorable little girl who was growing up before his eyes in each consecutive picture. Starting with an infant with a shocking head of jet-black hair, not unlike his own. Then came the wobbly toddler in an Easter dress and hat with large brown eyes sparkling with mischief.
As he traveled down the frames, each one showing a slightly older version, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Rolling his shoulders to throw off the sensation, he came to the final picture. A close up of a young girl he would guess to be around ten. As he took in her pale skin, dark curly hair, and dimpled smile, disbelief and pain bubbled in him. Shaking his head, he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the mantle.
It couldn’t be. There was no way. He would have known.
Opening his eyes, he once again explored every facet of the young girl’s face and when he came to her eyes and the eyebrow growing straight up, the truth slammed into his rib cage like a bowling ball.
The front door opened and closed, but Ryder couldn’t bring himself to turn around and look at her. He couldn’t bring himself to face someone who had concealed something so important. Who had betrayed him in such a soul-deep way. On the heels of those thoughts came the voice that suggested maybe she hadn’t had a choice. He’d done everything in his power to hide from her. From his family. To control his future and return to Fly Creek on his own time.
And yet he had to know. To see her when she denied or confirmed what his heart already knew.
Grabbing the picture, he whirled around and thrust it toward her, the frame shaking in his outstretched arms. “Who. Is. This?”
Peyton clasped her hands in front of her and met his roiling pain with a look of utter calm. “That’s Melanie. Your daughter.”
…
If Peyton had ever allowed herself to imagine telling Ryder about Mel, she figured anger would be the predominant emotion driving the scene. That would have been a huge misconception. Oh, he’d initiated the moment with anger. His movements just short of volatile. But the minute she confirmed what he’d already guessed, it was like a thrown switch and anger flew out the door.
He’d turned away from her but not before she’d seen his eyes cloud over in pain. He was hurt and lost in a sea of emotions but nowhere currently did she detect anger. Disappointment? Yes. Betrayal? Yes. Confusion? Absolutely. Maybe the anger would come later. She could deal with the anger. She had defenses to hurl back at anger. But disappointment and betrayal? Well, those emotions were beelining straight to her gut and battering her insides until they resembled a bowl of jelly.
Had she betrayed him?
No. If anyone was betrayed, it was her. She’d loved him, and he’d claimed to love her.
Then he left.
Left her with no way to find him. No words for her in all the years. Not one letter his mother received mentioned her or wondered about her.
So, no. This sense of betrayal he’d flung in her direction was unfounded.
Wasn’t it?
“How long?” he croaked out, the words bitter and raw and once again nailing her straight in her heart. Anguish fueled the question and Peyton swallowed hard. Had she been a fool all these years for believing he wouldn’t have cared?
“Two days after you left.”
Ryder stumbled backward, coming up hard against the mantle. He dropped his head, his hands clenched at his side, one still holding the picture frame.
Peyton ached to go to him, to try and ease whatever pain he felt. She could look past her anger and pride at this moment to help him through the shock. She’d been naive, perhaps even selfish, in thinking it wouldn’t be a big deal. That finding out about a daughter wouldn’t rock him at his core. And yet she stayed rooted to the spot. He was wounded right now and while she knew he’d never lash out at her, she felt a mixture of guilt and inadequacy. All of the sudden she was second-guessing the many decisions she’d made since the test turned positive.
“I want to see her.” The words were spoken to the picture frame he clutched to his chest.
“You can’t—”
Ryder’s gaze snapped to hers. He was big. So much bigger than anything or anyone she’d ever encountered in her life. And the worst part was it was both terrifying and intoxicating. He was a potent force. A papa bear, even if he’d just discovered the role, and nothing could be more earthshattering or attractive at that moment.
“I want. To see. My daughter.”
She held her hands out in front of her. “I’m not keeping her from you. You literally cannot see her right now. She’s away at wilderness camp. I dropped her off yesterday. She’s staying in a cabin and…” She was babbling. Something she didn’t recall ever doing in her entire life. Peyton was methodical, always knowing where every word, statement, and foot should be placed.
“When does she get back?” Some of the tension seeped out of him. His shoulders drooped as his stance took on a less combative tone. But he was still on edge and one step away from emotional implosion.
“She gets back on Friday.”
“I expect to see her then.” Ryder walked past and flung open her door. She listened as his heavy boots thudded down her porch steps. Each boom reverberating through her chest straight to her heart. She stood rooted until the peel of his tires had her turning and shutting her door. Then she laid her forehead against the wood and muttered, “What the heck just happened?”
…
Ryder turned and drove through the iron arches of Sky Lake Ranch. He couldn’t recall any of the trip from Peyton’s house. Hell, he could barely recall the last twenty-four hours. But what he could recall was her, standing there as if she wasn’t about to alter his entire world. His life, both future and past, with four words.
That’s Melanie. Your daughter.
Peyton had remained stoic, statuesque even, as he started a slow meltdown of conflicting emotions.
He shut off the engine and glanced down at the bench seat. His daughter’s face smiled up at him. Mischievousness and intelligence and a healthy dose of confidence shone out of those chocolate eyes and pride swelled his chest even as pain settled around his heart. Ryder hadn’t planned to take the picture, but now that he had, he wouldn’t be returning it.
He had a daughter.
With Peyton.
For ten years, his daughter had been on this earth. Laughing, smiling, growing in front of Peyton’s eyes, but not his. For ten years, his daughter hadn’t known the love of her father. And he loved her. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t even met her. He didn’t even know her middle name or hell, even her birthday, but he loved her more than life itself.
And she had lost a decade of knowing that love.
Pain shot through his chest and he leaned his forehead on the steering wheel. How could no one have ever told him?
Because you made it impossible.
The truth punched his gut, taking away his breath. He had made it next to impossible. Writing only letters, never calling. Leaving as little a paper trail as possible and in some cases, never. The wilds of Alaska and logging made that very easy, especially in the early years.
Was this his punishment? His punishment for leaving her. Leaving Sky Lake. For staying gone as long as he had. He punched the steering wheel. Well, if so, it was a hell of a punishment.
Ryder grabbed the picture frame and jumped out of his truck. Slamming the door, he headed for the side of the lodge and his parents’ house, only remembering after two steps that they didn’t live there anymore. Swearing, he reversed course and climbed back into his truck.
Did his parents know about Melanie?
Of course they knew. That was why Peyton was so close to them, he realized. They knew about their granddaughter. He would bet they’d been active participants in her life since the day she was born. Ryder swore at length as he pounded his fists against the dashboard.
It isn’t fair.
While he’d been gone, his daughter had been right here. Growing up, laughing, exploring, being loved, and he hadn’t had a single moment to share in that.
But Peyton had.
And so had his mom and dad.
Just thinking about all the love his father might have lavished on his daughter had Ryder gripping the steering wheel for dear life. His father, who had never shown that kind of affection to Ryder, and yet he knew. He knew so deep down that nothing could shake it that Mitchum Marks had spoiled Melanie rotten.
That was his job. Only he hadn’t been given the chance, and the fault was his and, by extension, his own father’s as well. Mitchum had welcomed him after ten years with a snarl and a wish that he leave as soon as possible.
There was no way he could have the words and discussion he needed to have with Peyton right now, but his parents, or rather, his mother? That was something he could handle. It was a Saturday in September so she most likely would be at the lodge dealing with the arrivals and departures. Probably not the best place for him to confront her about Melanie, but he wasn’t wasting one more minute.
But within moments of stepping foot into the chaos of arrivals, he discovered she was nowhere to be found. A five-minute drive through the ranch checking at the barns and paddocks showed not one sign of her dually or her preferred fringed shirt. That left their house.
Three minutes later, he pulled up in front of the two-story stone structure. He strode up the massive front steps and went to open the door only to find it locked. He remembered his mom handing him a key last night before she left to meet his dad, and he fished his key ring out, looking for the right one. Once inside the open floor house, he crossed to the alarm panel to silence the beeping countdown. Thankfully he’d paid enough attention to his mother when she’d given him the code. Alarm disabled, he stood in the eerie silence that greeted him. If the alarm was set, his parents weren’t here.
He walked into the kitchen, his eyes going to the phone hanging on the wall. Who knew a drunken phone call last night would lead him to this moment. To his whole world shifting foundation. It wasn’t just him anymore. It was another human being. And no one—not Peyton, his parents, or anyone else—would keep him from trying to make up for all those lost years.
On the fridge, Ryder noticed a large manila envelope hanging from it with his name scrawled in black marker. He unhooked it from the clip and lifted the flap, sliding out a piece of paper. He felt something heavy in the bottom and saw another set of keys and a garage door opener.
Ryder,
I hate to have to say so many things on paper, but as you never returned home last night, I really have no choice. First, I can’t tell you how much it means to me to have you back home, and I hope that you won’t leave before your father and I return. We haven’t even had a chance to catch up properly and I know you’ll have questions, as do I. Unfortunately, your father and I were scheduled to leave this morning on a little vacation that couldn’t be changed. We’ve tried over the years to get away occasionally, now that we have someone who’s capable to run the place in our absence and who we trust implicitly. We’ll be back on Friday and I hope to hug and kiss you some more and hear all about your wild Alaskan adventure and your plans for the future, which I hope will include more time at Sky Lake. Until then, here are the keys for the ranch in case they’re needed, and a spare garage door opener if you would like to park your truck in there.
Talk soon,
I love you,
Mom
Ryder laid the paper on the island and dumped out the contents. They’d left right when he’d returned home. His parents had taken a vacation. That ranked up there with him finding out he had a daughter, and Peyton’s cozy relationship with them. In all his years growing up, they never took a vacation. They worked hard day and night to make the ranch a success. To have something to pass down to him, they told him, and maybe he hadn’t respected that at nineteen, but at almost thirty and having built something from the ground up himself with his bare hands, so to speak, he understood their sacrifice now. So while their timing sucked—or maybe it was his timing—he gave them a metaphorical clap on the shoulder for finally realizing they deserved to have a break.
And to be honest it might be best for Peyton and him to find their footing before grandparents came in and took over. After all, no one could take charge like Shelby Marks.
Of course, that put a little dent in his plan to show his dad just how wrong he’d been. But really what was another week? He’d returned with pride in his blood and a deed in his hands. One week longer to sit across from his father when he discovered just who now owned part of Sky Lake was a blip in the radar.
Speaking of Sky Lake, who was running it? He mentally reviewed all those he knew who’d worked for his parents when he left and no one came to mind that they would “trust implicitly” to take care of their pride and joy. Except maybe Dan Rigby. Ten years could change a lot, though. He knew that better than anyone now.
Once he showered and calmed himself down maybe he would head up to the lodge and find out who was in charge to let them know he was here and willing to work.
Because focusing on work was about the only thing guaranteed to exhaust him until laying eyes on his daughter.