CHAPTER EIGHT
Ryanne
The lunch rush is beginning to trickle out, my feet aching as I wipe down the empty tables. My head hurts from the lack of sleep but nothing hurts as much as my heavy heart. I haven’t stopped thinking about Justice since our destructive confrontation, the pain in his eyes haunting me wherever I go.
Taking Hannah to school this morning was hard. She looked as tired and sad as I felt but there was no way I would have found someone to fill my shift on such short notice and I didn’t want to leave Chuck and Laverne stranded. Besides, being at school with her friends will be good for her, help keep her mind off things. Her teacher promised to watch out for her. She even made Hannah student of the day, something she was very excited about. Her smile was a little brighter when I left.
Three more hours until I can hug her again. Every moment I spend with her are ones I cherish.
I walk into the kitchen where Chuck is flipping greasy burgers and filling orders.
“Things dying down out there yet?” he asks, dodging a large flame that flashes from his hot grill.
“A little.”
“Good, because I need to take a piss.”
I chuckle at the unnecessary information. My boss has no problem speaking his mind. He’s a little rough around the edges but I appreciate him and his wife.
I’ve been working at Roadhouse for almost four years now. A bar and grill famous for its good food and late night fun. Chuck and Laverne, a married couple who fight more than they get along, own the place. The two have been good to me, allowing me to work day shifts to fit my schedule with Hannah. I’m only made to work two evenings a month. Thankfully, Miss Peggy, a sweet elderly lady who lives down the way from me, watches Hannah on those nights.
“Ryanne?” Laverne calls my name as she pushes through the swinging door, looking a little flustered.
“Yeah?”
“There’s some hunk of a man out there asking for ya. He’s scary as all hell and looks pissed.”
My heart bangs against my rib cage, knowing immediately who it is. How did he know I work here?
Because Justice Creed knows everything. Well, almost everything. Besides the one secret I managed to keep hidden all these years.
“You want me to get rid of him?” Laverne offers at my hesitation. “Just say the word and Chuck will haul his intimidating ass outta here.”
“You know it,” Chuck says, raising his spatula.
Justice would eat poor Chuck for breakfast but I forgo saying that, not wanting to wound his ego. “Thanks, y’all, but I got this. Mind if I take a quick break?”
“Go ahead,” Laverne says. “I’ll cover your two remaining tables until you’re done.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Let me know if you need me,” Chuck says as I head for the door. “I got your back.”
“How about you just get flippin’ those burgers,” Laverne yells. “I’m still waitin’ on table seven’s dang cheeseburger.”
“It’s comin’, woman. Quit harpin’ on me and make yourself useful, why don’t ya?”
I shake my head at their bickering, an amused smile on my face that dies the moment I walk out and find Justice sitting up at the bar. His dark eyes collide with mine, pinning me in place and making my pulse race.
Even after all this time, he still affects me so strongly. With just a look, I’m lost to him, my heart dancing to a new beat.
I also don’t miss the way every other woman in this place is held prisoner by his presence. Some things never change.
Digging deep for courage, I put one foot in front of the other and walk up to him. “Hi,” I whisper, hating how shaky my voice sounds.
“We need to talk.” His expression is stone, fury still prominent in his eyes, but he’s not yelling at the moment so I take that as a small achievement.
I nod. “My boss is allowing me a quick break. You want to have a seat?” I ask, gesturing over to an empty table.
“No. My truck.”
He doesn’t even wait for me to agree, just walks out the door expecting me to follow.
It’s probably for the best anyway. The last thing I want is all my dirty laundry aired in front of my coworkers and customers. Gold Creek is small and close-knit like Winchester just not filled with such vile people.
There’s a light mist when I step outside, my cowgirl boots landing in a puddle from the downpour we just had. I pull my plaid button-down over my white tank top and follow Justice to his truck, the puddles splashing up my bare legs thanks to my denim shorts.
I’m completely taken by surprise when he walks to the passenger side and opens the door for me. The act is so unexpected that I look up at him, brushing my damp hair out of my face. My eyes search his for any kind of hint, any kind of hope, that maybe, just maybe, we’ll be okay. He gives away nothing, his hard gaze void of any emotion.
Heart deflating, I reach up for the handle on the inside of the door, pulling myself up into the tall truck. A truck similar to those his brothers drive. It has me wondering about his bike and thinking about some of my favorite moments with him. The euphoria is short-lived when he slams the door, making me jump.
My eyes close and I scold myself for being so naïve. I need to remember why he’s here, not get lost walking down memory lane.
He climbs in on his side and closes the door, not nearly as hard as he closed mine, then lights up a cigarette, filling the truck with smoke.
The scent is like an aphrodisiac, a warmth invading my chest as the smell takes me back to years earlier.
“Where’s Hannah?” he asks, his eyes remaining straight ahead.
Hearing him say her name does all sorts of things to my sad heart. “At school,” I tell him, licking my dry lips. “She’s in kindergarten.”
“Does she like it?”
“She loves it. She’s sad it’s almost over.”
Silence fills the truck, mingling with the smoke. His jaw ticks with emotion, contradicting his civil attitude.
“I’m sorry how things ended yesterday, Justice,” I start, having no doubt it’s weighing as strongly on him as it has been on us. “Hannah was upset and scared, she didn’t mean what she said.”
His head turns, furious eyes snapping to mine. “And whose fault is that?”
“Mine,” I answer without hesitation. “I’m not disputing the fact that I’ve made mistakes. I know I’m to blame for how you both feel right now.”
He watches me, eyes hard and determined. “I want my daughter, Ryanne.”
My heart sinks straight to my stomach; panic robbing me of air like a cruel thief.
“I want a relationship with her,” he adds.
My erratic heart rate slows, stomach untwisting. “She wants that, too.”
He grunts in disbelief.
“She does,” I assure him. “We spoke after you left and she understands your feelings are valid. As much as she can for a five-year-old,” I add. “I also made sure she knew you weren’t mad at her.”
His lips curl, an almost vicious snarl leaving him. “You’re not getting it. Yesterday shouldn’t have happened at all. I shouldn’t have had to find out about my daughter by some fucking piece of mail and a picture of her staring at me in the goddamn face!”
I gaze back at him through blurry vision, hating the pain and anger bleeding from him. “You’re right, and I’m sorry for that. So sorry.”
“Were you really that worried I would fuck up as a father that you felt the need to hide her from me?”
The question slices me like a cruel blade. “Of course not,” I choke out. “How could you even think that?”
“What do you expect me to think? You kept my fucking kid from me. I have a five-year-old daughter I know nothing about!”
“There are reasons I did what I did, Justice. Reasons I’ll one day explain to you when you’re capable of actually hearing them. Right now you’re too angry and I don’t fault you for it. I can’t change what I’ve done but I can change the here and now. Hannah wants a relationship with you. She always has,” I whisper, feeling the guilt of that statement burn my soul.
“Good. Because I’m telling you now, I’m not going anywhere.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask exactly what he means by that. I find it hard to believe he will stay here forever and the thought of him taking Hannah back to Winchester has panic threatening to choke me, but I decide it’s a discussion for another time. I’m not ready for that battle quite yet.
“Why don’t you come over tonight,” I suggest. “You can spend some time with her and get to know her.”
A little calmer, he inhales another long pull of his cigarette, letting the smoke drift out slowly. I hate how enamored I am by it.
“What time does she go to bed?”
“Eight.”
“I’ll come by around six.”
Nodding, I take that as my cue and hop out of his truck. Before I can close the door he calls out to me.
“What kinds of things is she into?” he asks, a vulnerability in his voice. “I want to buy her something.”
My heart warms at his thoughtfulness. “She’ll love anything you get her. She’s an easy child to please but you don’t have to buy her anything, Justice. She just wants you.”
He stares back at me, his jaw ticking with hard emotion.
Feeling close to tears, I close the door and head back to work, feeling his eyes on me until the very last second that I walk inside.