Chapter Eight
agrees to stay with Echo at least overnight. They order food from Nemo's and talk about their childhoods.
Echo reveals that she grew up in a military family and that her father was an incredibly strict disciplinarian. She tells Ryan how she got interested in computers and that she's always felt more comfortable with them than with people. She says that working for Alan Powell was the first time she'd felt like someone saw her as a capable professional, and she reveals that he had had her coding some of his research data so that he could run reports on his findings.
Ryan talks about his mother, his time in the military, and he hints at some dark things that he still carries with him. Echo pushes, but he shuts down and she backs off.
Once I was done sorting through the day's files and had tied up all the loose ends, I gathered my things and checked my self in the mirror I kept in my desk drawer. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about his strong arms wrapped around me as I cried and how safe I'd felt with my cheek pressed against his chest. I couldn't believe I'd asked him to stay with me, but after all of the nice things that Dr. Powell had done for me, it seemed like the least I could do for his son.
I waved into the security camera as I crossed the lobby knowing that Butch was somewhere in back watching it, and pulled out my sunglasses. The day was warm and bright and I smiled as the warming rays hit me easing the chill left from the office air conditioner. I looked up toward the sun and stretched my arms upward as I walked to the corner. When the light changed I crossed the street and smiled again as I caught sight of Ryan sitting near the window watching me. I waved, and he waved back before gathering his things and heading outside to meet me.
"You look happy," he grinned.
"I'm done with work for the day and I'm headed home with a handsome Navy SEAL," I said. "What's not to be happy about?"
"Oh God, please don't do that," he groaned.
"What?"
"Don't get all goofy about the SEAL thing," he said rolling his eyes. "We're tough and we're awesome, but let's leave it at that. We're not Gods...well, not usually."
I burst out laughing as I held my arms out and motioned for him to give me the box with the pictures in it. He hesitated, but since I had nothing buy my messenger bag strapped across my chest, he gave in and let me carry the box. I let him hail the cab, and once I had given the driver my address, I started peppering him with questions.
"How long were you in the Navy?" I asked.
"Twelve years, I'm still in," he replied. "Just on leave while I sort this all out and do something for a friend."
"Oh, what kind of thing?" I asked.
"Just a thing," he said indicating that the topic was now off-limits. I wanted to ask more questions, but I drew back and gave him some space. After a few seconds, he asked, "How long have you lived in New York?"
"I've been here eight years, six of which I've worked for Dr. Powell," I said. "I went to NYU."
"Where'd you move from?" he asked as he fiddled with the strap of the duffle bag.
"Peoria, Illinois," I said. "You know, farm country."
"You grew up on a farm?" he said.
"No, I grew up in a family," I said looking out the window wishing he hadn't started this line of questioning. Ryan was silent for a moment and then asked, "Did you like working for my father?"
"I did," I said as I turned back toward him as the driver took a right turn just a little too fast and I slid across the seat. Ryan threw his arm out instinctively to keep me from being thrown forward and then laughed when he realized it hadn't prevented me from almost ending up in his lap. I could feel the heat radiating off of him as I struggled to scoot back to my side of the bench.
"I don't mind, you know," he said.
"Mind what?"
"Mind you sitting close to me," he grinned. "I've been away on a mission, so it's been awhile since I felt anything that soft and warm against my skin."
I blushed furiously as I realized he had not only felt me pressing against him, he'd most likely been able to get a clear view of what was underneath my blouse. I tugged it up with my free hand and then shifted the box in my lap so that it covered my chest a little more.
"I didn't see anything," he said quietly.
"You're impossible," I laughed as we pulled up in front of my building. Ryan quickly paid the driver despite the fact that I was already holding the cab fare in my hand. Once out of the cab, I nodded at him and said, "I'll get the next one."
"Nonsense, you're putting me up for the night, it's the least I can do," he replied as he slung the duffle bag over his shoulder and grabbed the box from me so I could find my keys and open the door.
Once upstairs, I gave him the nickel tour of the place and showed him how to ensure that the shower water was hot rather than ice cold. I handed him the one towel I kept specifically for guests, and told him I was going to run down and grab dinner from Nemo's. I figured after the day he'd had, he'd probably need a little privacy, and I wanted a chance to drop off last night's dinner money and maybe talk with Cece.
"Hey chica!" Cece hollered from atop a ladder as she dusted the mariachi hats and instruments that hung on the wall over the bar. It was a Tuesday night, and the dinner rush hadn't started yet.
"Hey Cece," I called waving the twenty dollar bill I had meant to give her the night before. "Here's the money for last night's dinner."
"I told you that your money isn't good here," she scolded as she descended the ladder. Cece's hair was in a dramatic beehive, her makeup dark and heavy on the eyeliner and she was wearing a bright pink wrap around top that showed off her considerable assets with a pair of black shorts that I wondered if Mando had seen. As usual, she looked stunning. "What's up?"
"I've got a guest," I said looking around to make sure no one else was listening.
"Oh yeah?" she grinned. "Spill it, chica!"
"He's my bosses son, Ryan," I began and her face fell. "I'm putting him up for the night because he and his stepmother were evicted from the family apartment this morning. It's crazy. His dad's been dead less than a week and he's already orphaned and homeless."
"Wait, what?" she said with a confused look on her face. "Why is he homeless? And why is he staying with you?"
"The will is tied up in probate, so he has no money," I said. "And I couldn't let him sleep on the street! He's a sailor!"
"Now you're just confusing me," she said shaking her head.
"He's a Navy SEAL home on leave to take care of his father's business," I said as I grabbed a menu and began writing down my order. I decided that we probably needed a lot of food given that neither of us had eaten lunch.
"Ooooh, military hottie!" Cece whistled as she rang the order and gave it to the kitchen. "Get yourself some of that, chica!"
"Cece, he's lost his dad," I said disapprovingly. "I'm not going to jump him."
"Why not? Men are best when they're vulnerable," she scoffed. "Get 'em when they're sad or lonely and you'll get everything you want!"
"You, my friend, are an opportunist," I laughed. "I am a woman of morals and ethics. I will not exploit a poor man who is sad and lonely."
"Then you're never getting laid again," she said dismissing me with a wave. We both burst out laughing as I paid the bill and took my bags.
"I'll keep you posted," I called as I pushed the door open.
Back in the apartment, Ryan had showered and changed out of his street clothes and put on a pair of shorts and a tank top, and was now doing pushups in my tiny living room. I entered the apartment silently and stood in the kitchen watching as his muscles bulged from the effort he was making to lower himself all the way to the ground, hold the pose and then slowly raise himself back up. I marveled at his control. This was a man who knew how to maintain his focus.
"I'm back!" I called trying not to startle him.
"You've been back for about five minutes just standing there watching me workout," he said as he walked toward me smiling.
"I didn't want to disturb you," I said as I looked down into the bags to hide the fact that I was blushing yet again. I began pulling out food and handing containers to Ryan who stood watching with an amused look on his face. I shooed him out of the tiny kitchen, saying, "Take these over to the coffee table and set them down."
"Aye, aye Capitan," he said as he saluted and then grabbed the food and walked ten steps to the coffee table. I followed with plates, silverware and two ice-cold beers. There was nowhere to sit except on the sofa so I filled a plate, grabbed my beer and claimed one end while Ryan did the same on the other end. We ate in compatible silence for a long time.
"So, you didn't grow up on a farm," he said before shoving the last bit of tortilla in his mouth and chewing.
"I did not," I confirmed as I moved the food around on my plate.
"So, where did your name come from?" he asked trying to skirt the topic as best he could.
"My dad was a military historian," I said telling the same story I'd told a thousand times. "We were all named after radio call letters."
"All of you? How many were there?" he asked.
"Me, Charlie and Mike," I said anticipating his next question.
"I always wondered what it would be like to grow up with brothers," he said. "I guess that's why I joined the Navy. To find out what it's like."
"Charlie and Mike are my sisters," I grinned. Everyone made that mistake. "Charlie's given name is Charlotte and Mike's is Mikayla. My mother wouldn't let my father give them the actual call letter words because she was afraid of what might happen if they ever wanted to run for president."
"Are you kidding me?" he laughed.
"I wish I was," I said shaking my head. "But I assure you I am not."
"What about you? Is Echo your given name?" he asked.
"Yep, it sure is," I nodded as I took a drink from my beer.
"Why didn't you get a given name, too?" he asked.
"Because I was the last one and my mother said at that point she was tired of fighting about naming girls with my father," I said.
"So, basically you got your name because they were too tired to argue about it," he said with a surprised look on his face.
"I suppose you're right," I nodded. "My name was the result of peace due to exhaustion."
Ryan burst out laughing as he drank deeply from the bottle in his hand, then wiped his mouth with the back of his arm and let out a huge belch. I started laughing, too.
"So, what about this not growing up on a farm thing," he said. "I'm curious."
I took a deep breath and decided to tell him the truth about my upbringing, and for the next hour I spun the tale of my family's extremely regimented life. I told him about my father's time in Vietnam and how his PTSD would sometimes cause him to drink until he couldn't get up out of his chair in front of the television. Other times he'd be fully functional and would wake my sisters and me up at the crack of dawn to do training exercises with him. He'd tell us that after we ran the obstacle course, he'd make us pancakes and bacon for breakfast, and while he usually did, we knew that saying no was never an option. As we got older, my father's mental health deteriorated to the point that when I was in high school, he'd spend the summers in the local mental ward receiving electroshock therapy. It was brutal, but he'd usually have a few good months after the treatments until he started descending back into his own hellish memories.
"My sisters were the first ones to get out of the house," I explained. "Mike, she's the oldest, joined the Army and put in for duty anywhere but near home. Charlie married her high school sweetheart a month after graduation and moved to the South Side of Chicago where they bought a small house and had two kids. And then there's me."
"And you applied to NYU and got out of Peoria," Ryan finished.
"Actually, I came to New York, applied to NYU and got accepted," I said. "I moved here with a plan, but nothing in place. It was a total crap shoot."
"But it's worked out well for you it seems," he said patting my foot with his large hand. The feeling of his skin against mine sent a shiver up my spine and I had to fight to keep from asking him to keep his hand on me.
"So what about you?" I asked. "What's your family's story?"
Ryan looked at me for a long moment before he cleared his throat and said, "I'm going to need another beer if I'm going to tell that tale of woe."
"Of course!" I said as I popped up off the sofa and ran to the fridge. I grabbed two beers, popped the tops and was back on the couch in a flash.
"You must really want to hear this story," he laughed as he accepted the bottle and then took a long drink from it. It took him almost as long as it had taken me to tell the story of his family and by the end of it I was in tears. I looked down and shrugged a little as he said, "Aw, don't get all worked up about it. I miss her terribly, but I was glad she wasn't in pain. I think it was harder for my father to lose her than it was for me, though. He was incredibly lonely after she died."
"I can only imagine," I said wiping my eyes and trying not to imagine how lonely Dr. Powell must have been after his wife's death.
"He was a good father," Ryan said. "He tried, and like my mother always said, honest effort is the most important part of any endeavor."
I nodded thinking about my own mother and how she'd spent years making an honest effort to try and help my dad, and how, in the end, she'd given up and let him go.
"What about your parents," he asked. "What are they doing now?"
"They're dead," I said pushing down the emotion that was whirling around inside of me.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he replied looking worried.
"It's okay," I said. "He went off the rails and hung himself the summer I moved to New York and she died two years later. We didn't know it, but she'd been diagnosed with liver cancer and had opted not to get treatment because she knew the survival rate was so low."
"That's awful," Ryan said. "There's always hope."
"No, I think she knew that my dad was on his way out," I said. "And she didn't want to live in a world where he wasn't."
"That's kind of Romeo and Juliet tragic," Ryan said without a hint of humor.
"No, it's foolish on every level," I countered. "They should have fought to live, but they weren't able to. I have made peace with it."
Ryan nodded and patted my foot again, only this time he left his hand resting on it. I could feel the heat from his fingers radiating up through my leg and warming my entire body, and what I really wanted was to be wrapped in those strong muscled arms again. I tried not to look at him directly as I sat silently sipping my beer. After a long silence, I looked up to find him watching me intently.
"You're an interesting woman, Echo Frost," he said.
"Well, thank you," I replied. "You're an interesting man, Lieutenant Ryan Powell."
"And thank you," he said pulling his hand back and finishing his beer.
"You must be exhausted," I said standing up to gather the dishes and carry them back to the kitchen.
"Here let me help," he offered as he followed bringing an armload of plates and take out containers to the counter. I could feel him standing right behind me as I ran water in the sink and tried to focus on washing plates and silverware. I wanted to step back and feel his chest pressed against me before I turned and kissed him. It took a moment for me to realize he was speaking to me, "Echo? Are you okay?"
"Oh, yeah, fine," I nodded at the plates in the sink. "Just a little tired."
"You sure you don't want some help," he said from less than a foot behind me. I simply shook my head and then shut off the water and dried my hands on the towel I had slung over my shoulder.
"I'll get them in the morning before work," I said as I moved to the dresser in the living room that doubled as a television stand and storage for my extra bedding. I pulled out sheets and a blanket and offered them to Ryan joking, "You can make your own bed, right, sailor?"
"I can indeed," he grinned.
"All right, well, my bedroom is right up those stairs, so if you need anything, I'm just a couple of words away," I said nodding towards the spiral staircase that reached up toward the ceiling.
"I was wondering where those led," he said. "Good to know."
"Sleep well, Ryan," I said as I climbed the stairs. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Thank you, Echo," he said. "I really appreciate this."
The look on his face made me want to run back down the stairs, throw my arms around his neck and kiss him passionately, but the good girl in me that didn't do such weird, wild impulsive things nodded and went up to climb into her bed — alone.