Storm Front (The Charistown Series) (Volume 2) (27 page)

As soon as Lyla left the house, Janie escaped to the
kitchen. Ryan watched Ashley stalk toward Kyle, a fire burning in her eyes and
anger straining her spine. The Ashley who had lain dormant for so long, hiding
all of her feelings was gone. Like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis. This
Ashley was allowing her feelings to radiate all around her in bright shades of
color. This Ashley was pissed.

“You stupid fucker,” she said, poking him in the shoulder.
Standing at five foot eight, Ashley wasn’t a slight woman and therefore her
poke wasn’t a slight poke. Ryan had been on the receiving end of one before, so
he knew from experience. In his inebriated state, Kyle’s balance was not the
greatest, and he took a couple of steps backward to keep from falling over.

“You know I love you, Kyle Marx, but I can’t even look at
you right now. What you’ve said tonight disgusts me.” Ashley walked past him
and headed to the kitchen, with Julie following swiftly behind. Kyle reached
out to grab Ashley’s wrist and Danny started to step in, but he wasn’t quick
enough.

Ryan had seen Kyle grab for Ashley and in that moment, his
mind traveled back to another place and time. Visions of Scott standing in the
high school hallway, caging a young Ashley against the lockers, looping his
fingers around her wrist. He remembered the look of confusion and innocence in
her eyes—a look he’d chosen to ignore in favor of anger and mistrust. A choice
that in turn had led him down the wrong path, a path he still couldn’t veer
from.

Ryan’s vision went red and his fists clenched. The thought
of Kyle even attempting to lay a hand on his woman had him wanting to rip
Kyle’s arms off and beat him with them. The way Kyle had spoken to Lyla, the
way he’d just torn her down, making it sound as if they all shared the same
opinion…

Ryan felt as if his heart was going to slam out of his
chest. Self-restraint was an act of will and strength he had not yet
encountered since his rehabilitation, but it seemed as though now was time for
him to start practicing. Taking slow deep breaths in through his nose and out
through his mouth, he self-soothed his tightly wound temper. As the breathing
exercise worked its magic, Ryan slowly unclenched his fists.

After Ashley left Miami, Ryan had spent three years in grief
and anger management counseling. Once he realized that his anger stemmed from
his mom dying of cancer, and his fear of losing control, he was able to learn
coping strategies to help him gain control of himself, if not the world around
him. Seeing Kyle attempt to touch Ashley in anger had nearly set him off, but
the fact that he was able to regain his composure quickly made him proud of
himself. However, Kyle was about to see a side of Ryan that he had never seen
before.

Closing the distance, he wrapped his hands around the collar
of Kyle’s t-shirt and pulled him so close that there was barely an inch between
them. “Listen to me, you sorry piece of shit,” he snarled between clenched
jaws. “Don’t you ever—
ever
—speak on behalf of me, or any one of us, ever
again. If Lyla even looks at you again then you are one lucky son of a bitch.
And if she ever says she forgives you, then she must have finally learned to
lie, because no one could, or should, ever forgive the crap you said tonight.”
Ryan let go of Kyle’s shirt and then realized he had one thing more to add so
he fisted it again and pulled Kyle even closer than he was previously as he
gave his final warning. “And Kyle? If you ever even think about talking to
Ashley the way you spoke to Lyla, I will cut out your fucking tongue. We
clear?” He waited for an acknowledgment, which he received in the form of a silent
nod, before he turned toward the kitchen. He needed to get the hell out of that
house.

The coldness of the tile floor mirrored the overall mood in
the kitchen. What had been a warm and inviting environment was now blanketed in
sadness and anger. Ashley sat on the floor alongside Janie and Julie, feeling
helpless as she watched her friend cry. Reaching for the one tool she had in
her emotional bag of tricks, Ashley pulled out the one thing that allowed her
to relate to people without ever lowering her walls. Humor.

“That boy needs to be castrated, and I’m just the girl to do
it!” She let out a maniacal laugh as she recited a list of all the ways she
could perform the duty. Feigning a grimace, she said, “Ick, but then I’d have
to touch those
testes of STD’s
and yuck. We could even get Danny to
help! He loves Lyla. If he holds Kyle down, I could wear a thick pair of gloves
and use the nut crackers we have at the bar.” She laughed evilly. “They crack
more than walnuts, you know.”

Hearing Janie’s giggle, even for the briefest of moments,
made Ashley feel so good inside. Knowing she could ease her friend’s pain made
her feel helpful, useful…meaningful.

“Ash, let’s go.” Ryan’s voice melted through her like butter
on a warm skillet. Offering his hand to Janie he pulled her up off the floor
and enveloped her in a huge hug.

Once he’d assured Janie that Max had escorted Kyle from the
house and that he wouldn’t be back, Ashley felt Ryan’s hand rest on her
shoulder. Without looking back to see his face Ashley stood up from the floor.
In that moment, the two of them were in sync—words weren’t needed. She knew he
was walking a thin line, trying to keep his anger at bay while trying to appear
calm. She knew it was time to take care of the man who had spent the better part
of a decade taking care of her. She said goodnight to everyone and tucked
herself into Ryan’s side as they exited the house together in silence.

Ryan knew Ashley would have questions after what had just
happened, but he wasn’t able to answer them yet. The two-mile drive home
flashed by and all too quickly they were sitting quietly in the car in the
driveway. The click of her seatbelt echoed in the car as the whoosh of fabric
released from its hold.

“Why don’t you sit out here for a little while. I’ll go get
us some lemonade.” She moved to open the door but he put his hand on her thigh
to stop her.

“Please don’t go.” He hated how weak his voice sounded, but
he needed her, and he needed her to know that. “Please, Ash, just let me hold
you for a little while.” Eyes focused on the steering wheel in front of him,
Ryan found himself unable to make eye contact with her as he made his request.
Her rejection would be more than he could bear.

“Okay, honey.”

Ryan’s head snapped up the moment she acquiesced and his
eyes met hers. It had been so long since she’d called him “honey” that he’d
forgotten how sweet the endearment sounded sliding off her tongue. She wasn’t
pushing him away and he knew he should be elated, but tonight he was so
physically and emotionally drained that he was just grateful. “But let’s not
sit here in the car, let’s go inside. Okay?” Ryan tried to answer her but the
words wouldn’t form, so he just nodded his head and exited the car.

Walking through the front door, Ryan went straight to the
sofa and after flipping on the television, he sat rigidly on the soft cushions.
He listened to Ashley while she moved through the kitchen, pouring each of them
a drink and turning out the lights before joining him. The television was on
quietly but his focus was on the mantel above the fireplace where pictures of
their friends and family members rested. When he declined the drink she
offered, she placed both glasses on the coffee table and sat quietly next to
him. He realized she was waiting for him to take the lead and he didn’t leave
her waiting long.

“I was so angry when my mom died. I couldn’t understand why
she left me,” he stared straight ahead as he spoke, knowing that he wouldn’t be
able to say what he had to if he saw even one ounce of pity in her eyes. “She
and my dad loved each other, they were best friends. I saw the way love was
supposed to be, not the way it was shown on TV. There was no cheating or abuse.
Sure, they would argue occasionally, but they would discuss their issues and
figure out ways to get past them. And,”—he paused to scrub his hands over his
face—“they loved me. They fucking loved me. I never questioned it. I knew they
loved me because they told me and they showed me.” He closed his eyes, inhaling
deeply, as he gathered the strength to continue his story. Although Ashley knew
as well as anyone the ending to his tragic tale, he’d never been so candid with
her about his feelings during that difficult period in his life, and he worried
that her knowing all of it may change her opinion of him, but he had to tell
her. It was time for her to see all of him.

“I didn’t know at the time but my mom survived cancer once
before, when I was a baby. That’s why I don’t have any siblings.” He turned to
face her, willing her to understand why he was an only child. “They wanted more
children, but after her treatments they couldn’t have anymore.” He turned his
gaze back to the mantle. “When she got sick
again
, I was twelve, and a
typical adolescent, punk kid. It wasn’t that I got into big trouble, but I did
go out of my way to push boundaries and test limits. When my parents told me
mom had cancer, they were so certain that she’d be okay. They explained that
she’d gone through it before and she was fine. They drilled into me that I
shouldn’t be scared, and that everything would be okay. But every day, my mom
got more and more sick.” Ryan’s hands knotted together and his leg bounced
mercilessly as his past took on a life in the present.

“I did what they asked—what they demanded. I continued to
live like the rest of my friends. I tried to ignore the pain in my mother’s
eyes and the suffering in my father’s.” His eyes filled with the unshed tears
of the teenage boy he’d once been, and the man he’d grown to be. “Then one day,
when I got home from school, they called me into the sunroom. My mom had been
sleeping there for over a month in a hospital bed. Thinking back on it, I feel
so stupid for not seeing what was really going on, but they were my parents and
they told me she was going to be fine, and I believed them. Then mom explained
that she was dying. No, she wasn’t dying…death was imminent.”

Ryan leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees and his
head in his hands. He scrubbed his face quietly for a moment before he
continued to speak. “I’ll never forget the look of defeat on their faces. It
was like they’d finally accepted it was time to let go, but what they didn’t
understand was that I wasn’t ready. They’d had so much time to discuss the
‘what ifs’ and the ‘when’s’
,
but I hadn’t. They’d kept me in the dark.
But all of a sudden they wanted me to come and say good-bye to my mom—to tell
her it was okay to leave me, okay to stop fighting. Ashley, I hadn’t even
started fighting yet. They’d never given me the chance to start my fight. I was
losing my mom and I was pissed. I was angry. I hurt. And there was nothing I
could do about it but say goodbye.” Ryan felt the lone tear run down his cheek
as he silently cried for the boy who was never even given the chance to fight
for his mother. Braving a glance at Ashley, she mirrored his grief, her
sorrowful eyes overflowing with the pain of Ryan’s loss and regrets.

“She—my mom—told me during one of our last conversations
that it was important for me to always speak from my heart. To never assume
that people know what I’m thinking, but to say what’s on my mind. In a lot of
ways that advice led me to song writing. It also led me to loving you, and in a
lot of ways it led me to fucking things up with you—the one woman who I have
spent most of my life loving. When Mom died, I became a different person, Ash.
In fact, if it weren’t for Leo, I honestly don’t know where I would have ended
up. Your brother found me at a dark time in my life and he showed me the light.
He just had a way about him.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan saw Ashley go rigid when
he mentioned Leo’s name. He waited patiently for her to collect herself. The
moment he saw her shoulders relax, he continued. “I always laughed when you
called me Romeo,” he admitted, “because I wasn’t trying to be smooth, or give
you the lines. That was me, just telling you what I was honestly thinking.” He
let out a choked laugh. “But I guess a nineteen year old kid saying the things
I did, probably just sounded like I wanted in your pants, right?”