His Girl Next Door: The Army Ranger's Return / New York's Finest Rebel / The Girl from Honeysuckle Farm. Trish Wylie
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no response, so he opened it.
George was lying on his bed, earphones in his ears, iPod resting on his chest. The lamp was still on, even though he’d fallen asleep.
He stood there, towering over his boy as he slept. His face was so young in slumber. There was no trace of the sulky preteen, almost a hint of the face he’d known years ago, when they’d been so close.
Ryan bent to pick up the iPod and gently reached to take the earphones out.
George stirred. Then opened his eyes.
Ryan froze.
His son went to say something, went to move, but Ryan put his hand against George’s chest and slowly bent his legs until he could sit on the bed. George didn’t say a word.
There were questions in his son’s eyes. Questions he wished would come out in the open so he could tell him the truth, could tell him how sorry he was.
George pulled the cord so his ears were free. Then glared at him. Ryan went to move, to stand up again, but his son grabbed his hand. Made him stop. Then George burst into tears, his entire body shaking from the sobs deep in his chest.
“Come here.” Ryan took his boy into his arms and held him, held him so tight he hoped he wasn’t hurting him, and fought the emotions that were running through his own body, thrumming through him, desperate to escape. His eyes were burning, body tense as he held his son, the boy suddenly feeling so young and vulnerable in his arms. “Shhh, it’s okay.”
“You left me,” George managed to say between sobs. “Why did you leave me?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, holding him even tighter, never wanting to let him go. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Grams told me,” George sobbed, “she said you would be leaving again soon.”
Ryan squeezed his eyes shut and did his best to force away his own tears, to push them away and be strong for his son. It was like his heart was being pulled from his body to beat in the unforgiving heat of the desert sun. Left to wither, exposed to the world.
“I’ll never leave you like that again, ever.” Ryan said the words into his son’s hair. “I promise.”
“But you are going back?”
George pushed away from him to sit upright. His eyes full of hurt, questioning his father.
“I am going back,” he said, knowing he had to be honest. There was no point in pretending otherwise. But it was also time for him to be honest with himself. He wasn’t done with the army, not yet, and he’d already agreed to another term. But it was time to prioritize, and he’d given his country years of service. Had been a dedicated and loyal soldier.
Now maybe it was time to put that same amount of energy into being the father he’d once been. The father he’d always wanted to be. Maybe it wasn’t just about his duty to the army anymore.
“This time will be my last tour,” he said, knowing he was speaking the truth, even though he’d never decided, until right now, that it was going to be his final stint away. “I will go away one more time, then I’ll be done. And this time I’ll be there for you even though I’m away—we’ll stay in touch properly, okay?”
George looked unsure, hesitant, but Ryan didn’t care. Tonight had been a major breakthrough. And all it had taken was some courage on his behalf to take the first step. His son might not believe his words yet, but Ryan would see his promise through and show his son he could be trusted. It was up to him to give George a reason to trust in him.
“You promise?”
He nodded and pulled his boy in for another hug. “I promise, kid. I’m not going to let you down again.”
George held him back hard, clinging on to his father, and Ryan sent a silent prayer skyward. He wouldn’t trade anything for this moment. The pain in his arm, the hurt of his memories, nothing would be worth sacrificing for knowing his son was close. For feeling like forgiveness was possible.
For remembering what it was like to be a real dad again.
Dear Ryan,
I guess you might be wondering just how I understand what you’ve gone through. Maybe you haven’t thought about it, but I feel like we’re close enough now that I need to tell you something—that I’ve gone through what you have. Lost someone close. Battled with my own health and my own demons. That I’ve had …
JESSICA SAT OUTSIDE, one hand raised to shield her eyes from the sun. Hercules lay at her feet, her constant companion. She ran the toes of one foot across his fur, the touch comforting her.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the letter she’d almost sent Ryan. The one in which she’d tried to tell him everything. The one that was her opening her heart and telling him what had happened in her past, and what she was scared might happen in her future.
But then she’d scrunched it up into a ball and thrown it out. Forgotten about it. Except for last night, when the words of that letter had played over and over in her mind. She hadn’t even realized they’d be in her memory bank still, but they had been. Every single word. Keeping sleep from her and haunting her thoughts.
Maybe her brother was right. Maybe she should tell Ryan. Maybe it was the right thing to do.
But she wasn’t going to. If she did, she’d have to end their romance. Right now. Or more likely he’d end it straight away before she had the chance.
If she didn’t? They could continue on, enjoying themselves, and Ryan could go back to his unit oblivious to what she’d been through. And why should he know? He had enough of his own problems to deal with.
Jess stood and stretched. She needed to get back into her studio and paint, unwind and enjoy her creativity. There was no use worrying over something once you’d made a decision, and she had.
It didn’t matter how many times she went over it.
Ryan wasn’t going to find out, she wasn’t going to tell him, and that was the end of it.
“Come on, mister.”
Hercules yawned and padded after her.
They had Bella coming around to visit this afternoon, and she’d be able to talk the subject to death if she wanted. Right now, it was time to paint.
And there was going to be no thinking about the past or the future. It was about time she learned to live in the now.
Ryan knew he had Jess to thank for reconnecting with his son. They had a long way to go, but they’d made progress. When he’d left George’s room last night, he’d felt lighter somehow, like the burden he’d carried all this time had been a weight on his shoulders, pushing him down, trying to cripple him.
Even his arm felt better, despite the pummelling it had taken last night when Jess’s brother had nearly crushed his hand.
But it was all worth it. Having George on speaking terms with him again, listening to his son talk and watching him smile, it was the best reward he could ever have wished for.
And all it had taken was a little courage.
“You want to walk down for an ice cream or something?”
George looked up and put down the video game control. “Yeah, okay.”
He was going to have to get used to those kind of responses. Kids didn’t seem that enthusiastic over anything these days. But he wasn’t complaining. Not while his son was actually talking to him.
“Let’s go.”
They stood up to leave. George walked close to him, but Ryan resisted the urge