Chapter 24

 

“Obviously they have live music here,” Samantha said, glancing at the Red Dory’s small stage.

So far, she and Ry had talked mostly about Sam’s road to recovery. Her refusal to give up was awe-inspiring, and he felt like he was really getting to know his stepsister.

He’d opted for a table in a back corner of the pub, one as far away from the stage as possible. It was a local Celtic band’s gig night. Claire had mentioned once in passing that she knew the boys well, and what they might lack in technique was made up for by their youthful enthusiasm. He’d taken that to mean they were loud as hell and not very good.

“Most nights they have a local band or singer,” he said. “Once in a while an out-of-towner.”

“Cool. I hope these guys play some Down East music.”

“Fiddles and foot-stomping galore?”

“That’d work for me,” Sam said with a grin.

Ry gave a little shrug. Every time he looked at that stage, he thought about Claire.

“Okay, big brother, we’ve had enough talk about me. Now it’s your turn. So you’re racing motorcycles again, huh? You always did love that.”

Ry did a double take. “How did you know I’m racing?”

“You think I haven’t been following everything you do ever since I got straight? There’s a whole lot of information out there on Ryder Griffin. You know, on that thing called the Internet.”

“Too damn much information, apparently.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “So, you had to quit hockey because of injuries, and yet now you race motorcycles just for the fun of it? When I read about that…well, all I can say is I was ready to appoint you mayor of Crazytown.”

He bit back the temptation to laugh, because she looked totally serious.

“You obviously must know how risky that is,” she added. “You’re not a seventeen-year-old anymore either.”

“Sammy, it’s fine. Really.”

She doggedly shook her head. “Fine? I’ve just found my brother, and I don’t want to lose him again. Or see him crippled for life.”

Ry had to stifle a frustrated sigh. Of course she’d be concerned, especially after everything she’d been through. And she said she needed him, as she continued with her recovery. As much as it pained him to have to talk about this stupid subject again, he couldn’t shut Sam out.

“I don’t expect you or anybody else to understand. All you need to know is that it’s something I have to do for my sanity, now that I can’t play hockey anymore. You just have to trust me on this, okay? It’s really not that dangerous, and I’m careful out there.”

Her concerned gaze morphed into annoyance. “You have to race? Really? Because if that’s the case, you’re admitting that you’re addicted to risk. And trust me to recognize what that looks like.”

When he started to object, she shot up a restraining hand. “Racing’s just not a rational choice, Ry. With your history, you know all it would take is one—”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” Was every woman in his life going to tell him he was nuts to race? “Now, can we please talk about something else?”

“In a minute. I guess you’re going to get mad at me for being pushy, but don’t you think racing might have become your drug of choice? Or maybe the drug is actually the danger? Like, you need an adrenaline rush just to get on with your day. Because if you really do need to race, then it has become an addiction of sorts.”

Ry snorted. “You clearly think so, counselor. Man, you’re making me feel like one of your clients.”

When her gaze slid to the side, Ry wanted to kick himself. “I’m sorry, Sam. I know you’re only on me about this because you care. It’s just hard for me to talk about, that’s all.”

She grimaced in sympathy. “Addiction is always hard to talk about, Ry. Any kind of addiction. But you’d be the first to tell me that it does nothing to solve your problems. How many times did you tell me that when you flew out to California to try to pull me out of another crisis?”

“A few, for sure.”

“A few hundred, more like. Look, I can tell you exactly what Father Christopher would say to you if he were here.”

Ry raised his hands in surrender. “Now you’re going to tag team me with an absentee priest? Saints preserve us.”

“Very funny. Father Christopher would look you in the eye and tell you in the kindest, most loving way that risking your health—your entire future—on the racetrack is an attempt to fill a hole in your life. And I’m not talking about missing hockey. I’m talking about missing people. Jesus, Ry, you said you’re holing up on that island because you don’t want people butting into your life. Well, to me, that doesn’t sound like much of a life. You deserve more than that, don’t you?”

He barely managed to keep from flinching. Sam was practically echoing Claire.

She studied him for a few more moments. “I know I must sound like a preacher, but I’m only sticking my nose into this because I really care about you, my brother.”

“I know.” Ry was finding it tough to argue because she was right. Something had changed since he left New York. Something fundamental. And being left alone no longer seemed like the most important thing in his life.

“To tell you the truth, Sam, I’m not sure what I want anymore.”

She was about to reply when she glanced at the stage and frowned. Ry turned to look, then froze.

Claire had just appeared onstage.

“That does not look like a Celtic band,” his sister said in a wry voice. “Where are the big hunky guys I saw on that poster at the door?”

“Uh, that’s Claire Maddox. She’s a regular here, but her usual night is Wednesday. Maybe the band had to cancel at the last minute or something.”

“That kind of sucks. Is that woman any good?”

Oh yeah, she’s good at a lot of things.

Claire was good at everything, in fact. Ry’s mind went straight to how great it felt when they were naked, skin-to-skin, totally wrapped up in each other. God, he missed that—missed her—more than he’d ever missed anything.

Even hockey?

Yeah, even that.

He shook that startling thought away. “She’s a great singer. I accompanied her on guitar at a local festival.”

Samantha’s eyes widened. “Oh, my God, are you kidding me? I knew you played guitar, but you actually perform on stage now?”

He shrugged. “It was a one-off but, yeah, weird stuff can happen in a place like this.”

“I’m starting to see that. And I like it.” She shot him a blinding smile. “Hey, why don’t you go up there now? I bet she’d lend you her guitar. I’d give anything to see you play tonight.”

“Sam, come on, I—”

She took his hand, silencing him. “I would love to see my big brother play. It would mean a lot to me.”

Shit.

How could he say no after all she’d gone through? After she’d come all the way to Maine to see him? After she’d worked up the guts to apologize for her role in their fucked up past?

Unlike him, Sam had never really had much control over her life.

And being with Claire again, even just to play a song…yeah, he wanted that too.

He got up. “Okay, but if she tells me to sit my ass back down in this chair, you’re in trouble, Sis.”

In fact, he’d be lucky if Claire didn’t shove him off the stage before he had the chance to even open his mouth.

Sam gave him a fist bump. “Go get ’em. I hope these people won’t mind if I hoot and holler a bit.”

“Trust me, they won’t,” he said drily as he turned to head for the stage. If there was one thing the folks of Brides Bay loved, it was a nice bit of local drama.

* * *

Suddenly, Ry was right there beside her, having materialized out of the dark bar like an apparition—a brawny, gorgeous apparition in a tight polo shirt that did amazing things to his shoulders and chest.

Claire had spotted him the moment she walked onto the stage. Though the lighting was dim, her senses had picked him up like a pulsating blip on a radar screen. She was so keyed into him that it was crazy. And more than a little disturbing.

Who the heck was that sitting with him? Not a local, for sure. Pretty and clearly vivacious, the girl gazed at him with what looked like adoration.  An ex-girlfriend, maybe? Who else would show up at the Dory with him tonight?

He couldn’t have known she’d be playing. The owner had called her less than two hours ago to ask if she’d be willing to sub for the scheduled band. She was surprised Ry hadn’t bundled the girl up and headed for the door the moment he saw her emerge from behind the stage.

And yet here he was on the stage now, right at her side.

“I know this is a surprise, but how about I give you a hand for a few numbers?” he murmured into her ear. His warm breath caressed her skin.

Claire repressed an involuntary shiver as she worked to get her brain fully functioning. He wanted to go on stage with her? Knowing him as she did, that would be ten kinds of weird.

“Are you serious?” It was all she could manage.

“Look, my sister insisted, so please don’t make me look like a jerk in front of her. She really wants to hear me play.”

Claire felt her jaw drop. “Your sister?”

“It’s a long story.”

Speechless, Claire handed him her guitar.

He took up a position to the right and slightly behind her, moving out of the spotlight.

“Well, here’s a surprise for you, folks. Ry Griffin has kindly offered to accompany me on guitar!” Despite her nerves, Claire managed to force plenty of enthusiasm into the introduction.

Sustained applause greeted him as he slung the guitar strap over his shoulder. An exception was Meg, sitting at a table near the front with Sylvie St. Germain. Meg’s scowl suggested she might leap onto the stage and drag him out of there.

Focus, Claire. You can do this.

While she’d survived a lot worse situations, right now her heart felt like it might break all over again.

“Fire and Rain, okay?” she said over her shoulder. They’d played that number at the festival.

Ry nodded and hit the introductory chords.

Claire suddenly felt naked. She didn’t much like being in front of an audience without a guitar to hide behind. Still, she pulled in a deep breath and launched into the song. Ry smoothly followed along, and her voice and his instrument blended as comfortably and easily as old friends strolling on a beach.

Or lovers walking hand in hand.

But she and Ry weren’t lovers anymore, and that was just about killing her.

* * *

He’d stayed with her through the entire set. After each number, she’d turned to him with inquiring eyes, and each time he’d simply nodded, a sign that she should tell him what tune was next. As usual, his playing was superb, dazzling the crowd with his solos even though he was using her less than stellar instrument.

After the set, he’d insisted on introducing her to his stepsister. Claire found herself immediately liking the blond girl with the pixie haircut. And as uncomfortable as she was with the situation, she couldn’t help thinking how nice it was that Ry and his sister seemed to be pretty close. Even a dedicated loner like him needed family who loved him.

“Your voice is awesome, Claire,” Samantha enthused. “You totally sound like a star, as far as I’m concerned. You and Ry should drop a record and go out on tour. I’m serious.”

“That’s really sweet of you to say so. I’m afraid though, that when it comes to singing, I make a better concierge and pet sitter.”

Samantha made a scoffing sound, then shifted her attention to her brother. “Okay, so now I have to ask you something. How long have you two been a thing?”

Claire’s brain froze.

“Really, Sam?” Ry muttered.

“Come on, you’d have to be blind to miss it.” His sister’s eyes went wide as she took in his stony reaction. “Oh, oh. Did I just stick my foot in it?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Claire said. “We did date for a little while, but we’re just friends.”

Ry just kept glaring at his sister.

Samantha gave them a rueful smile. “I’m sorry, guys. I was getting excited there for a minute, thinking he’d found somebody pretty great.”

“Claire takes care of my house and Stanley when I’m gone,” Ry said in a tight voice. “Now, let’s change the subject, okay?”

“Whatever you say, big brother.”

Even though his description of their relationship was technically accurate, the words had done a Texas two-step on Claire’s heart.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me, Samantha. I need to have a word with my business partner before the next set.” She stood and forced a smile. “Will you be staying in town for a while?”

Samantha glanced at Ry. “Just a couple of days. I have a friend in Philly to visit next, then I have to get back to San Francisco.”

“Well, if I don’t see you again before you leave, it was really lovely to meet you.”

“Likewise. I’m sorry…”

Claire shook her head. “Not to worry.”

Ry still looked royally pissed off.

“Thanks for helping out with the set,” Claire said to him, making it clear she was going to do the next one solo. “I hope you both enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“Thanks, Claire,” Samantha said.

Ry just gave her a brusque nod.

While she figured he might be ticked off that she wasn’t inviting him to continue on stage, it surely must be his sister’s innocent blunder that had gotten his goat.

The hell with you, dude. Claire was so tired of trying to figure him out.

Samantha was right about one thing. Everything had felt so good—so right—when Ry was at her side onstage. For half an hour, she’d even started to think there might be some hope for them after all.

But now his crushing words and stony looks had demolished that fantasy forever.