Authors: Inara Scott
“Call her,” Emilio advised. “You’ll regret it if you
don’t.”
Ryker rolled down his window as he pulled out of the
driveway. “Add it to the list.”
“I don’t like it, Alix.”
“You’re the one who’s been after me to finish the damn
thing.” Alix held the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she retrieved a
particularly big dust bunny from under the couch. She’d only been away from the
house for a month, but the dust and sand had piled up in impressive quantities.
“I did exactly what you kept telling me to do.”
“You can’t be happy with this.” Gunther’s voice was a mix
of disapproval and worry. Alix could imagine him pacing across his thick white
carpet, sipping a martini as he gazed out his back window to the view of Los
Angeles below. “It’s disjointed. The beginning is gorgeous, exactly what I
always expected. But the ending is terrible. You might as well print it in
softcover and sell it in grocery stores behind the counter with the other
trashy magazines.”
“Well, don’t pull any punches on my account,” Alix said
dryly.
Of course, she knew he was exaggerating. But not by much.
She’d finished the book days after she’d returned, coldly scrutinized hundreds
of pictures for the ones that would have the greatest commercial appeal—the
prettiest faces, rosiest lighting—and scribbled some text to go with it.
It was hardly on par with dirty magazines, but it fell far short of what she’d
been trying to accomplish when she first started.
And she didn’t care one bit.
“I don’t want you to look back and regret this. It’s too
soon after—”
“After what?” Alix snapped. “After Ryker Valentine took my
stupid, naïve heart and tap-danced all over it?”
“Too soon since you got back,” Gunther said gently. “Give
yourself a little space. Walk the dog, read a book. Or maybe you should do some
traveling. I’ve got some time opening up in a couple of weeks. We could spend a
few weeks in Europe.”
“I don’t want to go to Europe.” Alix swatted a giant
cobweb off the ceiling. “I want to stay here. With Rex.”
At the sound of his name, the sleek Doberman jumped up and
nudged her elbow. He’d been particularly clingy since she’d returned, not
willing to be more than a few feet away, especially at night. Alix paused to
pat his head, then continued her cleaning.
Soft amber light began to fill the room as the sun set
over the ocean. It was summer now, and the sky had been clear for weeks, the
rich colors of the evening seeming to taunt her with their beauty. But for once
she didn’t want romantic sunsets and pink-tipped clouds. She wanted cloudy
skies and drizzle. She wanted weather to match her mood.
“At least wait a month before you submit it,” Gunther
said. “I’ll talk to Charlie. He won’t want this out there any more than I do.”
Gunther was right. She’d already sent it to her agent, and
he didn’t like it either. It didn’t mesh, he said. Something felt off.
Alix sighed. “I’m not changing it. I want the damn thing
done and over with. I’m tired of having naked people all over my house. It’s
time to move on. You said it yourself.”
“But not like this. You’ll regret it later. I understand
why you’re rushing it, but please,
libeling
, you’ve put in years of
work. What happened with Ryker doesn’t change that.”
Alix almost laughed out loud. Of course what had happened
with Ryker changed things. It changed everything. She’d spent years searching
for perfect expressions of love. She’d even thought herself skilled at
uncovering the real from the fake. But she’d learned the hard way that she
didn’t know a thing about love.
Anyone could be fooled.
Even her.
Alix cleared her throat. “Let’s drop it, all right? How’s
the movie?”
“They’re editing. It looks good so far. Ryker’s been an
absolute prick. Thank goodness he’s done with the actors.”
Alix closed her eyes at the sudden lurch of her heart. She
didn’t care why he was being a prick, she told herself sternly. She didn’t.
“Jake and Lena are getting married, I hear.”
“Yes.” Gunther practically purred with satisfaction. “The
picture’s getting all kinds of buzz. ‘See the movie that brought Jake and Lena
back together.’ You can’t buy that kind of publicity.”
“Probably just a matter of time before he cheats on her
again,” Alix said darkly.
“Don’t,” Gunther said. “Don’t let him turn you like this.”
Alix fought a sudden rush of tears. She swallowed hard,
trying to clear her throat, but no sound emerged.
When the silence between them lengthened, Gunther swore.
“As soon as this movie is done, I’m going to kill him. I swear.”
Alix wiped her hand across her nose. Rex’s tail thumped
against the floor, and she turned to look down at his golden eyes. “I just had
something caught in my throat,” she managed to say, forcing a cough.
“Right. Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe I should come down
there.”
“You’ve got other things you need to do. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted. “I’ve got Rex, and I’ve got you.
What more could a girl ask for?”
He sighed deeply. “I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m
sorry, Alix. I’m so sorry.”
She sank down on the floor, unable to prevent the fresh
flood of tears. When she could speak again, she whispered softly, “Me too.”
#
“Mr. Valentine, phone for you. It’s your sister Maria. She
says it’s an emergency.”
Ryker sighed and took the phone from the nervous intern
who hovered a few feet from his shoulder. He’d turned off his cell phone
precisely because he
didn’t
want to be interrupted. It had been a long
day of editing, and he wanted to be done in time to get to a publicity planning
session at Gunther’s house. Maria had been calling him every day since his
fight a week ago with Emilio, and it was driving him crazy.
“Maria, I’m not going to call Emilio,” he snapped. “And
I’ve had enough of—”
“Ryker, please. Papa’s had a stroke.” Maria’s voice
wobbled.
Ryker froze. “What?”
Maria choked back a sob. “I was stopping by the house, and
he was just sitting there by the TV. He couldn’t move or talk or anything. We
brought him to the hospital. They’re giving him a CT scan right now.”
“Jesus.” He closed his eyes and grabbed the arms of his
chair. “Is he going to be okay?”
“We don’t know.”
Ryker had to take a deep breath then, because suddenly the
room was spinning. “Where are you?”
“White Memorial.”
“Who’s there?”
“Everyone. Tony’s home with the kids. We just got here.”
Ryker frowned. “Maybe I shouldn’t—”
“Ryker.” Maria’s voice broke, and there was silence on the
line. Then, faintly, she said, “Ryker, please come.”
He stood up and looked around for his keys. “I’ll be there
as soon as I can.”
#
When he reached the hospital, Ryker parked his car and sat
for a moment in the quiet. Though part of him wanted to throw himself through
the automatic doors, another part dreaded what he’d find. Had he done it again?
Had he pushed someone away, only to find himself regretting it
later—after there was nothing he could do about it?
Maria met him by the nurses’ station. She threw her arms
around his neck and immediately began to cry. He held her tightly, fighting the
prickle at the back of his own eyes and the tightness in his throat.
Damn it, Emilio had deserved better. In his singular,
authoritarian way, Emilio had done everything he could to make Ryker a success.
He had pushed Ryker in school, stood over him to make sure he finished his
homework, and sought out scholarships so he could attend USC. When Ryker
started hanging with a tough crowd, Emilio manufactured projects for him—home
repairs, yard work, anything to keep him off the streets. It hadn’t made Ryker
like him, but, looking back, what choice did he have? Ryker knew he hadn’t been
an easy kid to befriend. He’d carried around so much anger in those days, it
was a wonder Emilio had stayed with them at all.
Ryker had been mulling over Emilio’s last words to him
ever since their dinner.
I wanted you to know that you didn’t have to change
yourself to be worthy of love.
Was that what it had all been about? The
endless fights over his name, over speaking Spanish, over all the things Ryker
had taken as a rejection of who he was. It had never occurred to him that
Emilio knew exactly what his mother had done, all those years ago, in her efforts
to attract his father. Or that Emilio might have been trying to help him become
more at peace with the heritage he’d never fully accepted.
Alix was right
, a quiet voice whispered in his
head.
You love him. And you never told him.
Just like you never told her.
Maria lifted her head and smiled. “He’s awake.”
Ryker blinked furiously. “Awake? As in, he’s okay?”
Maria pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen from a
makeshift bun on top of her head. “We don’t know the extent of the damage yet.
He can’t speak and can’t move his left side. But it’s early. And he’s alive.”
Tears squeezed out of the corners of her eyes. “You should go see him.”
“Do you…” Ryker swallowed and cleared his throat, feeling
more like a ten-year-old at that moment than he ever had before. “Do you really
think he wants me there?”
Maria punched him softly in the arm. “As far as he’s
concerned, you’re his son. How can you ask that?”
“I just thought…”
“Stop thinking. You do the most damage when you do that.”
Maria took his hand. They walked down a series of hallways until they reached a
room with windows facing the hallway covered by a thick curtain. Hector and
Eduardo were coming out of the door as he approached. They looked like they’d
been through hell, with red-rimmed eyes and tousled hair, but both gave him
huge, relieved smiles.
“Glad you’re here,” Hector said as he threw his arms
around Ryker and slapped him on the back.
Eduardo did the same, murmuring something that sounded
like, “Love you, man,” his voice thick and hoarse.
Ryker started to say something in return, but they just
stood there and beamed at him, and something in their eyes made it difficult to
speak. They wandered away a minute later.
Ryker watched them drift down the hall together. They were
boys, really, and he was their big brother. How could he have forgotten that?
Maria tugged his hand again, and he followed her into
Emilio’s room. The fluorescent lights gave everything a pale, greenish cast,
and a wall of machines beeped and flashed from beside the bed. Rosalia sat in a
plastic chair with her head bowed, holding a rosary of red beads and a gold
cross over Emilio’s hand. His eyes were closed, but when they entered, he
opened them and turned his head to the door. He looked calm, an oxygen tube in
his nose and his face oddly distorted, one side of his lips sagging while the
other remained mobile. He pulled his hand from Rosalia’s grasp, and she sat up
abruptly, looking around as if startled by the sudden movement. When she saw
them at the door, she stood but made no move toward them.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” she said stiffly.
Ryker winced. “I suppose I deserve that.” He tried to hug
her, but she was rigid, cold in his embrace.
“You two should have some time together,” she said,
inclining her head toward Emilio.
Ryker started to protest, but Emilio nodded.
Maria and Rosalia left the room. Ryker stood for a moment,
unsure what to do. Emilio motioned to the chair, and Ryker sat, listening to
the machines beep and praying they continued to do so.
Silence stretched out between them. Emilio beckoned him
closer with a tiny movement of his fingers. Ryker leaned forward hesitantly.
Emilio motioned again, and Ryker bowed his head, his cheek practically touching
the bed sheet. When he felt a gentle hand on his head, Ryker closed his eyes,
laid his head on the bed sheets, and let his stepfather stroke his hair.
When he looked up, Emilio was staring at him, tears
running down his face.
Ryker wiped his own eyes and laughed shakily. “Damn it,
Papa. When I said I was tired of arguing with you, I didn’t mean I wanted
this.”
They sat for a moment, Ryker struggling to find a way to
make sense out of his tangled emotions. He thought about Hector and Eduardo,
brothers he never called or invited to his house. He thought about Rosalia,
still a child when her mother died, struggling to keep the family together. He
thought about Maria, so determined to believe herself to be the black sheep of
the family, when she was, in fact, the sanest of them all.
Then he thought about Alix. Alix, who understood better
than he did how much he loved all of them. Who had offered him her own love,
even when she knew she was destined for heartache.
And he realized just how much he had lost.
He stared at the bed for a long time, until words came
spilling, unbidden, from his mouth. “She told me I was being an ass,” he said.
“Alix told me that. She said I was scared, and I pushed you away because of it.
She said I was a hypocrite, and I think she was right.”
Emilio watched gravely as he spoke. The room grew quiet,
the beeping machines taking over the tiny space. Finally, Emilio nodded his
head, just once.
“You put up with a lot over the years. You put up with my
temper and my ego. You loved my mother like she deserved to be loved, and all I
could see was that I’d failed. I knew I wasn’t the son my biological father
wanted, and I figured you were even less likely to want me. So I didn’t give
you a chance. I pushed everyone away, even people I loved, because I was scared
they might not love me back. I wish I could have seen that before now. I wish…”
He trailed off, imagining the pain in Alix’s eyes before she walked away. “I
wish I hadn’t been so blind that I pushed away the person I cherished most.”