Captured Love (22 page)

Jason looked from Mama to me, a little wariness in his eyes. “All right. Tell me about your plan.”

***

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I sat beside my Harley and sipped my Coke. I wanted to drink a beer, but I was too tired, and knowing I would have to be up early in the morning, I didn’t want to get a hangover. It was the first evening in six days that Noah had let us out earlier.

I planned on going to bed early, until Jason showed up at the garage.

“Hey, man,” he said.

“What are you up to?”

“Nothing much.” His expression was closed, as if something was bothering him.

“What happened?”

“Well.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“I have something to show you.” I stood. “Okay.”

“Not here. Come on.” He walked out of the garage and headed to his bike.

“Hmm, dude, I’m not going with you on that bike.”

Jason leaned against my car. “Drive, then.”

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I grunted. “Does this have to be now?

Today?”

“Yup.”

Letting out a lot of expletives under my breath, I grabbed my car keys and closed the garage door.

I slid in my car and turned on the ignition. “Though Officer Mike is being a little more lax because I’m working at the site until late, my curfew probably stands tonight.” Jason looked at his cell phone. “So we have two hours. That should be enough.”

“Where to?”

“St. Anna’s Park in Columbia.”

“A park? Seriously, J-man, what do you want to show me?”

Jason stared ahead. “Just drive.” The drive from Lexington to Columbia didn’t last long, but the tension and silence in my car bothered me.

I parked my car in a parking space across the street from the park, right behind 378/504

a familiar truck. Jessica leaned against the truck, watching the basketball courts.

I glared at Jason. “What the hell?” Without answering me, Jason slid out of my car and walked to his sister.

Swearing again, I exited my car and approached them. Jessica handed him the truck’s keys.

“He won’t leave me here,” she said to Jason. Then she looked at me. “Right?” I just shrugged.

“Okay. My job here is done,” Jason said.

He stopped by my side and clasped my shoulder. “Keep calm.”

Shit. “When you say stuff like that, I know I won’t be able to keep calm.” He smiled and disappeared inside the truck. We watched as he drove away.

When he turned the corner and was gone, Jessica turned to me, her eyes sparkling with something like excitement. But about what?

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“Come on.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the park.

“What’s going on?”

“I have something to show you.”

“I just heard that from your brother and I didn’t like it all that much.”

“Ouch.” Her eyes lost the happy shine.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “It’s just—”

“Shut up, Ryan. Don’t ruin this.” I groaned, wanting to shout, to ask, what
this
was.

At the park, one of the two basketball courts was occupied. Eight guys ran around the court, fighting for the ball. The few lights posts were turned on, but soon it would be too dark to play.

In silence, we watched the game for a few moments. My patience was running out, and my frustration was building.

“So, what do you want to show me?”

“Don’t you recognize anyone playing?” 380/504

I turned my attention back to the court and searched the faces. It was hard since the guys wouldn’t stop running, and the lights from the posts created odd shadows over them. Then one guy—average height, but bulky, with short blond hair, and a limping leg—turned to us and smiled at Jessica.

My heart stopped.

No. No. No.

Eyes wide, I looked at Jessica. “What the hell?”

She smiled at me. “Isn’t it wonderful?

He’s better.”

I snapped my head back to the court and watched as the guy stole the ball from another, and after a short run, passed the ball to another teammate. The teammate scored and they high-fived. In seconds, the ball was rolling again, and the guy raced after the ball as if he hadn’t been in a terrible accident almost four years ago.

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After my bike smashed him, Brody Mat-thews had been bound to a wheelchair. Only two years older than me, he had lost the feeling and movement in his legs. Doctors told him, and me, that he probably would never walk again.

And here he was. Running with a slight limp right in front of my eyes.

“How?”

Jessica closed her second hand over mine, cradling my fingers. “He’ll tell you.” I stole a glance at her. “Why and how did you find him?”

“I don’t know. I wanted to help you.” I pulled my hand from hers, but she held on tight. “No, hear me out,” she continued. “I don’t pity you, Ryan. I really don’t. I care about you, even if sometimes I hate you. And as any caring friend, I want to help you.

When I left the site Sunday night, something nagged at me. I got home and searched online for news about the accident and I 382/504

quickly found Brody’s name. I searched for him and found out he had moved from Charlotte to here to be closer to his doctor, the one that helped him with this miracle. I called him, told him how the guilt was eating you, and he agreed to meet us here.” This time, I freed my hand from hers.

“You’re unbelievable.” She told him the guilt was eating me? She had no right!

“Ryan …”

The game had stopped and Brody walked to us. The limp was barely noticeable then.

“Ryan Dawson,” he said, his voice flat, just like the expression on his face. “I never thought I would see you again.”

“Likewise,” I said.

“Hi, Brody.” Jessica stepped in. “I’m Jessica.”

“Hello, Jessica, nice to meet you.” He shook her hand, his expression a little softer.

“Thanks for letting us come,” she said.

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He nodded. I stared at him, totally at a loss for words. I had so many questions, so many doubts, but I wasn’t sure I was welcome to ask anything. After all, the guy probably hated me.

“I heard you spent quite some time in jail.” Brody broke the silence. “And you are now on parole.”

I nodded. “Parole and community service.”

“For how long?”

“Just three more months,” I said. “Man, I … I …” I didn’t know what to say.
How
to say it.

“It wasn’t easy, you know. I heard from several doctors that I would probably never walk again. A few told me, I might be able to stand and shuffle with a walker, if I worked hard. They might have mentioned a miracle too, but I was too deep in hatred then. I shrank into myself for months. The only thing I did was sit on the couch and eat.

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That, and snap at my family. I seriously thought my girlfriend, Diana, would leave me and my parents would send me away to one of those boarding-like clinics. Until one day, when Diana came home and showed me a documentary of a guy who had lost his legs in Iraq. He never gave up. He found a way to pull himself around the house, to do all the normal things a person does. Of course, he couldn’t go to work or ride a bike or run anymore. But if he could adapt, if he could evolve, so could I, you know. I found Dr.

Morse here in Columbia. He loves challenges and he took me on right away. Shortly after I started working with him, I was standing. It took me only a couple of months to walk, and a couple more to run. A true miracle with a large side of hard work.”

“That’s wonderful,” Jess said.

“Yeah, I think so too. The hatred is gone. And hopefully, soon, this limp will be gone too.”

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The guilt and shame overwhelmed me, and I blurted, “I’m so sorry, man. I know I said it before, though you didn’t want to hear it at the time, but I am. I’m truly sorry.” Brody nodded. “I know.” He gestured to his legs. “And as you can see, I’m okay now.

Not a hundred percent yet, but I’m getting there.”

“I’m glad.”

The guys on the court called him.

“I’m coming,” he shouted back. “I should get back to the game.” He patted me on the arm. “Just so you know, I forgave you a long time ago. I hope now you can forgive yourself.”

He strutted to the court and the game resumed.

I stared for a moment longer, not believing what had happened. I was afraid that if I moved, I would wake up in my bed and all this would have been a dream.

Jessica rested her hand on my back.

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A new feeling exploded in my chest.

Reason would tell me to suppress it, to ignore it, to shut it down, but reason was the last thing I was listening to now.

I turned to Jessica, wrapped my arms around her, pulled her to me, and crashed my mouth on hers. She didn’t resist. She didn’t fight back. Her lips parted, giving me access, and her arms wound around my neck. I kissed her slowly, savoring her taste, how well her mouth melded with mine, how her body seemed made to fit mine. Desire ran through my veins and I deepened the kiss, drawing a moan from her. Fuck, I had forgotten. I had forgotten how I could drown in her kisses, how I could immerse myself in her scent, in her touch. I had forgotten the good she did me, how she made me want to be a better man.

Wanting more of her, I slipped my hand under her top, eager to feel her skin.

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Jessica jumped back. She stared at me, her eyes wide.

“Jess.” I sighed. “I’m sorry. I—”

“Just take me home,” she said.

She marched to my car and I followed.

Fuck, what had I done? All the progress we had made, all the damn closure she wanted, all down the drain because I couldn’t control myself with her.

The twenty-five-minute drive back to Lexington was tenser than the ride with Jason. I peeked at her a few times, but she was staring out the window, lost in thought.

Probably hating me for kissing her when she was taken. Damn, she had a boyfriend. I might want to tattoo that on my forehead so I wouldn’t forget anymore.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I stopped the car in front of her house.

Immediately, she opened the door and stepped out. But before she could get 388/504

completely out, I closed my hand around her wrist.

“Jess …” She glanced at me over shoulder, her eyes gleaming with wariness.

Shit. “Thank you. For contacting Brody and taking me to see him.”

“You’re welcome,” she whispered.

Reluctantly, I let go of her arm and she exited the car. She rushed to the front door and didn’t look back once as she unlocked the door and entered her house.

I punched the wheel. Damn it. How would I fix this now?

Chapter Twenty-One

Ryan

My cell phone rang in the middle of the morning. I would have answered it, if it weren’t for Noah’s glare. Yeah, yeah, because of the storm, we were way behind schedule, and answering phones in the middle of work would only disrupt our current progress.

At lunchtime, everyone gathered in folding chairs in front of the main trailer.

Jessica, Jason, Corinne, Luke, Lindsey, Ethan … everyone was here. Even Alan and his employees. Apparently, they would work here until tomorrow and go back to their office on Monday. As much as I missed the silence, I couldn’t argue that their help had been invaluable. What would have taken us maybe two months of hard work to recover would probably take less than a month now.

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Jessica sat beside Sophie and Rachel.

She had a sandwich in her hand, but she stared at the horizon, completely lost in her thoughts.

This morning, she only waved hi at me from a distance. Nothing else. Jason slapped the back of my head and asked me what the hell I did to make her withdraw into herself again.

I just shrugged, but he knew. Somehow, he knew, and he slapped me again for it.

Unfortunately, I didn’t know how to fix the situation. My only choice was to avoid being too close to her and everyone else.

That was why I drove away from the site during lunchtime.

After passing through a Hardees’ drive thru, I parked my car under the shade of a big tree around the square, and finally reached for my phone.

A call from Ethan’s uncle. But why?

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I didn’t waste time and I called him back.

John picked up on the second ring. “Ry-an, hi.”

“Hey, John. Sorry I didn’t pick up your call. I was working.”

“I understand. How are things going?” I opened my mouth to say they were the same, but it wasn’t true. Having Jessica here was wreaking havoc in my core, but the rest—everything she was doing—was great.

“I’m doing better, I think.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“So, what can I help you with?”

“When does your parole end?”

“November.”

He tsked. “That’s a shame.”

“Why?”

“You know I have been training Luke for the Roebling Race in Georgia at the end of August. I was hoping you were free by then. Maybe we could try it again.” 392/504

The air rushed out of my lungs.

“Ryan? Are you there?”

“Y-yes.”

“If you aren’t free until November, then we’ll have to wait until the Homestead Miami race in December. After that, March.

But we can train until then and—”

“Wait. Wait.” I took a long breath.

“What are you saying?”

“If you finish your parole without any trouble, I think I can get you in the circuit again.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Why would I kid about that?”

“But … why now? What changed your mind?”

“Ryan, I always believed you were a good kid. What happened … it was a misfor-tune. You had everything to be someone, to make it big, but apparently, it wasn’t your time. You’re not too old to start again. I really believe you can.”

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“Did Luke bother you about me?” I cursed under my breath. “I thought I had convinced the guys I wouldn’t ride again.” John laughed. “No, not Luke. He does mention you sometimes, but it’s only about missing you riding with them. Someone else called me Monday. We talked for a long time.

Since then, I’ve been researching you. Sorry, but I had to know how your records looked, if you would be allowed back in.”

“Who was it?”