Chapter Fourteen
the time we left Nemo's and made it up the stairs to my apartment, something had shifted and Ryan became quiet. I wanted to ask, but I didn't want to pry knowing what he'd gone through in the past week and how much he was having to shoulder on his own. What I really wanted to do was curl up on the couch and feel his strong hard body pressing against mine, but I didn't see any real interest coming from him. And I definitely didn't want to have to share such a small living space with a man who'd rejected my advances.
"You hungry?" I asked as I set the box down on the coffee table and went back to the kitchen. "I can make something, if you are."
"Nah, I'm good," he said as he pulled my keys out of his pocket and handed them over. "Here, I got the keys made. I've got a set now."
"Great, thanks for doing that," I said as I watched him moved toward the balcony and slide open the door. "How much do I owe you?"
"It's on me," he said staring out at the buildings across the street.
"Ryan, are you okay?" I asked. "I know it's a lot to have to deal with on your own, so if I can help..."
"I'm good," he said before turning around and gesturing toward my bag. "Want to check out the files my father sent you?"
"Yeah, sure," I said giving him a confused look before digging into my bag and pulling out the laptop. I opened it up and clicked on the attachment. It opened into a file of numbers that stretched out over fifteen hundred pages. I stared at it for a long time knowing that there was something familiar about it, but not quite knowing what that was.
"It's all Greek to me," Ryan said with a half-hearted laugh. "You have any idea what it is?"
"I feel like I should know what it is," I said as I furrowed my brow trying to pull the information out of my brain. "But I have no idea what it all means."
"Well, maybe we have to wait for the next file to be sent before we can start to piece it together," he shrugged sinking down on the couch. "How much longer until that happens?"
"He said every twenty-four hours," I replied as I scrolled through page after page of numbers trying to understand them. "So the next file should come in around nine or ten tomorrow morning."
"Great, we've got a while to wait," he said as he leaned back and closed his eyes.
"Ryan, are you sure you're okay?" I asked I set the computer down and sat next to him. I reached out to take his hand, and he bolted up off the couch.
"Dammit, woman, I told you I'm fine!" he yelled. I shrank back for a moment and then anger quickly took the place of fear.
"You don't get to yell at me like that for wanting to help!" I shouted. "This is my apartment and you're a guest here!"
"Well, don't badger me about whether I'm okay or not when I told you I am!" he spat back. "Just leave me alone and let me think! I've got a lot on my mind and a lot of things I need to do, you know."
"Oh, right, because you're a special snowflake," I muttered. "I'm sorry I forgot that you're the only one with problems."
"I didn't mean it like that..." he began.
"No, no, please don't let me interfere with your precious thinking time!" I shot back. "You know what? If you want to be a jerk to me, then maybe you should look for somewhere else to crash because this apartment is way too small for you to act like an ass in it."
I turned and ran up the stairs, threw myself on my bed and buried my face in my pillow to keep from making any noise as I cried. I cried because my wonderful boss was dead, because I'd lost my job, and because the man downstairs who'd I'd promised to help and who I was quickly falling for, was rejecting me. It was too much for one day.
"Echo?" he called softly from the bottom of the stairs. I held my breath and hoped he'd just go away and leave me alone. "Echo? I'm sorry."
"It's okay," I called back in a choked voice. "I get it."
"No, I'm sorry," he said. "That was rude of me and you didn't deserve that. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I sniffled.
"You don't sound fine," he said quietly. "Are you sure you're fine?"
"It's been a long week already, I lost my boss and my job," I said. "It's kind of a lot to take in."
"Yeah, and you've got a grumpy stranger who almost killed you during a nightmare sleeping on your couch," he said. "It's a lot for one person."
I didn't say anything. He was right, and the tears starting flowing hot and fast again as I thought about how I was going to cope with the massive changes. My severance pay package had been incredibly generous, but something about it made me feel dirty taking it. It felt like blood money.
"Echo, can you come downstairs so we can talk?" he asked.
"I'd rather not, if you don't mind," I said as I sniffled.
"Okay," he said in a deflated voice. "I need to ask a favor, though. And I know I have no right to ask, but I'm going to anyway. I need to go to visit the parents of a friend of mine who was killed in action. Would you mind going with me?"
"Tomorrow?" I asked.
"Yeah, in the morning," he said.
"Sure, I'll go with you," I said. "I mean it's not like I have a job or anything."
I heard him chuckle as he walked out on to the balcony. Soon after, I fell into a deep sleep and didn't wake up until Ryan called up for dinner.
I descended the stairs still sleepy and feeling a little confused, but I smiled when I saw that Ryan had set up dinner on the balcony. He'd gone out to the Moroccan place down the block and picked up schwarma, hummus, and a fresh salad, and had made us both heaping plates of food topped with still-warm pita bread. I stepped on to the balcony and he followed with a crisp cold beer for each of us.
"I hope you're hungry," he said as he pulled out the folding chair and held it for me while I sat down.
"I'm not sure I've ever been this hungry," I laughed as I looked at my plate and back up at him. "But I love leftovers, so it's not a problem in the least."
He sat down across from me and studied me with a serious expression. His eyes were dark, unlike earlier when the amber color of them lit up and almost glowed. I wasn't sure what he was thinking, so I looked down at my plate and grabbed a pita.
"I'm sorry, Echo," he said so quietly I wasn't sure I heard him correctly. "I'm sorry about earlier. I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I didn't think about what you were going through."
"It's okay," I shrugged. "I was feeling sorry for myself and I forgot that you've lost not one, but two people. I was tired."
"And that was my fault, too," he said looking out across 14th Street.
"Look, let's just accept each other's apologies and let it go, okay?" I suggested. "Otherwise, we're going to spend a lot of time agonizing over things that we don't need to and forget about what's really important."
"Sure," he shrugged.
"Ryan, what's going on?" I asked. He looked like a man who had a lot more than just an apology on his mind.
"I'm trying to figure out what the hell is going on with my father's estate," he began. "I don't understand any of it. And then there's tomorrow..."
He trailed off as he grabbed his beer and drank deeply before setting it down and loading this pita with hummus and meat. He shoved it in his mouth and chewed silently.
"What about tomorrow?" I asked as I followed his lead and filled my mouth with the delicious food. We ate in silence, but I could see his gears turning as he tried to figure out how to answer my question.
"We were out in the mountains, on a rescue mission," he began as he looked over my shoulder at the wall behind me. "Opie was on the headset, he wasn't supposed to engage unless it was absolutely necessary. He was my responsibility."
I nodded not completely understanding what he was telling me, but knowing that it was important in light of the trip tomorrow.
"I have to go tell his parents that he died a hero," he said as he lifted his hand and rubbed his eyes. "I have to tell them that I failed to protect their son."
I knew that nothing I could say would help at this moment, so I got up out of my chair and walked around the small table to where Ryan sat. I put my hand on his head and pulled him to me and then just held on. At first, he was stiff and resisted my touch, but after a few moments he relaxed a little and hesitantly rested his hands on my hips as he pressed his face into my abdomen. I could feel him holding back, but it quietly leaked out. I could feel him breathing deeply, but he didn't make a sound. Instead, he put his forehead against my stomach and breathed slowly and deeply. Ryan shook slightly as he gripped me tightly, and I winced knowing that in the morning, I'd have bruise marks the size of his fingers marking my hips.
"It's okay," I whispered as I stroked his head. He let go of my hips and wrapped his arms around me. I stood solid and still stroking his back and head wondering if I was doing the right thing. Everything about him felt strong and solid as I fought to keep my own breathing under control. I wanted to pull his face up so I could look into his eyes and know whether I would ever get to kiss him. I couldn't stop thinking about his hands in my hair and how his lips would feel pressed against mine. I felt guilty for wanting to turn this private moment of grief into something more physical than it already was, but I couldn't help it. Ryan Powell did something to me that I couldn't explain, but that I knew was unlike anything anyone else had made me feel.
"Are you okay, Ryan?" I asked when I felt his breathing return to normal.
"I'm okay, thanks," he said not looking up. My heart broke looking at him and I had the urge to drop to my knees and make him look at me, but I decided it would be too invasive, so I walked back around the table and sat down.
"So, in other words, tomorrow is going to be rough," I said as I picked up my beer and sipped from the bottle.
"A little," he said with a wry grin. "In many ways it's going to be rougher than dealing with my father. At least he said he didn't want the public display of mourning."
"Your father didn't want a funeral?" I asked shocked to learn this.
"Nope, he hated that stuff," Ryan said shaking his head. "He was a military man who felt that funerals were a waste of money and emotional energy. He always said he wanted to be taken out to sea and tipped overboard."
"But he was a Marine, wasn't he?" I asked.
"Yeah, he wasn't that big on military pomp and circumstance," Ryan said. He stood up, grabbed his beer and walked to the edge of the balcony. "I don't know what happened to him in Vietnam, but whatever it was, it had to have been pretty awful. My mother always said the military had sent home a different man than had gone to war. I guess that's true of any of us, though."
"I can't imagine how challenging it must be to maintain your sense of self in the middle of fighting for your life," I said quietly. "My father never talked about his time in the service. Ever."
"It's like you're trapped," he sighed. "You want to share, but how do you live with the guilt of sharing things that are beyond even your own understanding with the people you love?"
"It's like trying to explain color to someone who is blind, I imagine," I said.
"Only it's also knowing that telling them about colors will be painful for them because they won't be able to understand," he said. "I know I should talk about this stuff, but who do I talk about it with?"
"You can tell me," I said.
"Yeah, sure," he scoffed. "That would be incredibly appropriate and not at all weird."
"Well, you can," I shrugged as I ate a little more off of my plate. "I'm not some delicate flower who is going to break because you tell me about something awful or horrifying."
"Uh huh," he nodded and I could tell his mind was off somewhere else.
"Well, the offer stands," I said as I stood and started gathering dishes. Ryan moved to help, but I shooed him away saying, "The one who cooks doesn't have to do dishes. House rule."
"But I didn't cook, I just walked down the block and picked it up," he replied.
"Same intent," I assured him and took everything back into the kitchen. I wasn't going to try and force him to tell me what was going on, but I wondered if he were to open up would it make it more likely that we'd...I shook my head at the thought and laughed. I had offered him a shoulder to cry on, thinking about how to seduce him as a result was totally inappropriate.
As I washed the dishes I couldn't help but remember the way his arms had felt wrapped around my waist and how the feeling of his cheek pressed against my stomach made me ache for more. And yet, he'd made it fairly obvious that he wasn't particularly interested in anything more than being roommates, so I needed to clear those thoughts out of my mind.
I picked up my phone and noticed that there was a call from an unidentified number on the screen and a voicemail. I hit play and listened to a man I had never met say, "Miss Frost, this is Commander Arvin Donnelley, U.S. Naval Recruitment Headquarters in New York City. I need to speak with you about a matter of utmost importance. Please return my call at 555-7435 at your earliest convenience." I had no idea who this man was or what he could possibly want with me, but I was fairly sure that he was no longer in the office. I'd call him in the morning.