The Final Piece (27 page)

“Do I need to repeat the rules of this house? There are no boys allowed in bedrooms,” Pops bellows up the stairs. “Get your asses down here.” I swear I can hear him chuckling.

Ryan and I walk into the living room and find Uncle Rob and Aunt Melissa sitting with Gran.

“Where’s Pops?” I ask.

“Here,” he calls from the kitchen.

“I’ll go see if he needs some help,” Ryan kisses my temple and joins Pops. I’m left standing in the middle of the living room with curious eyes assessing me.

“What?” I ask.

“Don’t ‘what’ me, dammit. Must I always browbeat the details out of you?” Aunt Melissa taps her foot impatiently at me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snicker. The look on Aunt Melissa’s face is somewhere between murderous and ecstatic.

“If she tells you a duck can pull a truck, then shut up and hook the sucker up.” Uncle Rob’s back on his game, clearly. We all stare at him blankly. “Damn, you guys are about as useless as a screen door on a submarine.” He shakes his head at us. “Just spill, Beth.”

“Don’t you guys have anything better to do than pimp me for the details of my life? Y’all need to work on generating some details of your own.” It feels good to tease them, nosy old coots.

“Y’all?” Uncle Rob looks at me confused and turns to Aunt Melissa. “Did she just say ‘y’all’? I think we need to hold some kind of confederacy intervention before we lose her to Paula Deen and Nascar.”

Aunt Melissa turns a steely stare my way, “Don’t make me hurt you. Please tell me that you are putting that boy out of his misery. The two of you are hotter than a billy goat’s ass in a pepper patch.”

My mouth drops to the floor and Uncle Rob clutches his heart.

“This woman is my prize. I’m one lucky bastard.” He gives her a goofy smile and kisses the back of her hand. Gran is laughing so hard her eyes water.

“I know the feeling,” Ryan says as he comes to stand next to me, “I’m feeling pretty lucky myself.” He leans in and kisses me sweetly and turns to Aunt Melissa. “Does that answer your question? Because I can do it again.”

I swat his arm.

“Ryan Cantwell, you hush your mouth,” I use my thickest southern drawl.

“Christ on a crutch, we’ve lost her.” Uncle Rob slaps his forehead, eliciting fits of laughter from everyone.

“Mmm...I like your accent,” Ryan whispers in my ear.

“That’s not all you like,” I smirk.

Chapter 45

The flight attendant snaps her gum and looks down her nose at me. This is the bane of traveling as an “unaccompanied minor”—always being stuck with the airline employee who likes kids the least.

“So,” she yawns as she reads my ticket, “Tommy Cantwell is picking you up. Is that your daddy?” I shake my head and hike my backpack up on my shoulder. The sooner we can deplane, the sooner I can get away from Gum-smacking Gilda. “Your uncle?” she continues.

“No, he’s just a good friend,” I say in my most annoyed and petulant voice.

“What are you, like, ten? A ten year old with adult friends?” she snorts.

“I’m twelve and he is a friend of my family and a great friend to me,” I sneer. “Can we go or what? Everyone else is off the plane.”

She gives me a haughty sniff and pulls her bag down from the overhead compartment. “Brat,” she breathes under her breath.

As we walk through the concourse, all I can think of is giving this clown the slip and running for the security checkpoint where I know Tommy is waiting for me. Fortunately, she seems as eager to ditch me, so she makes a straight shot to security without stopping.

“There’s my baby girl!” I hear the boom of Tommy
’s voice before I can see him.
When my eyes find him, I take off running with Snob-zilla hot on my heels.

“Tommy!” I squeal, throwing myself into his arms. ”I’ve got an AFA closing in,” I giggle in his ear. AFA or Annoying Flighty Attendant is what Tommy calls the people relegated to escort me each year I fly home.

“Uh-Oh,” he whispers, setting me on my feet. “Incoming, eleven o’clock.”

“Kid! You can’t just take off like that.” Ms. AFA is huffing from chasing me through the crowd. She is about to lay into me when she notices Tommy. She admires him from head to toe through overly made-up eyes. Ew. “Mr. Cantwell? Annie Sampson,” she bats her eyelashes at Tommy and extends her hand. Tommy shakes her hand and gives her his megawatt smile. I snicker under my breath because Annie looks like she’s about to faint.

“Ms. Sampson, I trust that Beth was well cared for by your airline,” he winks at me.

“Dude, she called me a brat.” I narrow my eyes at Annie AFA.

“W-w-what? Don’t be silly,” she stutters.

Tommy ignores her and turns a concerned look to
me, “She called you a brat? No
kidding?” I nod. “What the hell is the matter with you? Who’s the grown up and who’s the child? You should be ashamed of yourself.” Annie blanches and then turns bright red with embarrassment. “Come on, Beth.”

As we walk away, I steal a look over my shoulder and catch Annie Sampson watching us walk away. She’s probably still trying to process being told off by the guy she was macking on. Feeling the need to prove her point, I stick my tongue out in pure bratty fashion.

“I saw that,” Tommy chides.

“What? I figure if she was going to call me a brat, I might as well act like one.” I giggle.

“I missed you, baby girl. Life is entirely too dull without you around.” He swings his arm around my shoulder and kisses me on the head. “Hungry? How about Tasty Taco on the way home?”

“I missed you, too, Tommy. I love Tasty Taco.” I laugh.

“I know,” he winks.

***

Being around Tommy was so easy, I always felt at ease around him. I’m finding, as I let down my guard, his nephew possesses those same skills. Being around Ryan is effortless, even after our showdown in the park. The steady confidence he exudes relaxes me. He pays closer attention than I give him credit for, too. From the Brutal Strength tickets to the random freckle on my foot, he notices all the little details that make me feel treasured. Despite the brutal play-by-play of my life in Miami, he hasn’t changed the way he acts around me. At first, I expected him to pull out the kid gloves, but he didn’t. He didn’t hesitate to show me that he wasn’t afraid to touch me or kiss me without freaking out. A day later, I am assured that nothing I confessed changed how Ryan makes love to me. Thinking about it makes my cheeks heat.

“What are you thinking about over there?” We’re stopped at a red light, and Ryan narrows his eyes at me. We’re on our way back to Pops and Gran’s from Tasty Taco. “You look like the cat that ate the canary.” I giggle uncontrollably as the light turns green, and I am rescued from his interrogation. “I have ways of getting you to talk,” Ryan’s voice is low and seductive.

“Saying it that way isn’t an encouragement to get me to talk, babe.” I laugh as his eyes pop and his mouth drops open. I can’t wait to get my hands underneath that shirt and rake my nails down his chest. My tongue darts out to moisten my lips as all the ways I’d like to touch Ryan creep through my mind.

“I saw that,” he whispers.

“Saw what?”

“Your tongue...” He leaves his thought hanging as we pull into the driveway.

“Now that’s talent. You must have amazing peripheral vision, Cantwell.” I lean over and nip the shell of his ear when he turns the truck off.

“I’ve got several amazing talents I’d like to show you,” he’s back to using that sex voice and when he turns to take my mouth in a searing kiss, a small cry escapes my throat. “God, you are so damn sexy, you’re killing my will power, baby.” With perfect timing, my stomach growls loudly.

“How’s that for sexy?” I laugh. We grab our bag of food and head to the back yard. I grab a sheet from the clothesline and spread it beneath the cherry tree while Ryan unpacks our tacos. The scene is a simple one, but it strikes a chord from deep within. I never thought I’d be in a place where my past wasn’t a secret, let alone be here with Ryan. I pinch my arm for good measure.

“So, Ms. Thing, how’s the hotshot music booking business?” Ryan lays across the sheet, propping himself on his elbow. He’s so unbelievably handsome, it takes my breath away. “Beth?” My name shakes me from my reverie.

“Hmm?”

“Work? How is work, dear?” he laughs.

“Sorry, space shot. I love my job, I have a great boss and work with great people.” I smile thinking of Andrea and Fred.

“Sounds, great,” he teases.

“Ha ha. What about you? Where are you now?” I smile.

“I’m a counselor at Fisher Middle School,” his smile turns shy as he shrugs. The things that get past his cool confidence constantly surprise me. I consider how much more there is to discover about him and it thrills me. I can’t wait to peel back all of his layers.

“You would make a great school counselor, Ry. I think it’s perfect. General population or special needs?” I ask. He looks surprised by my question. “My best friend, Cyn, is a special education teacher in Charlotte so I’m familiar with how the system works. Don’t look so shocked,” I tease.

“Not shocked, just pleasantly surprised,” he smiles. “Fisher is pretty small so I see both. They’re great kids, I love being in the position to help them.”

“What’s your favorite part of the job?”

He thinks for a moment before he answers, and when he does, his smile lights up his face. “Social groups. Twice a week for each grade, I host social groups for the kids in our school with autism. They’re amazing, so smart and so sincere. I really love working with them.”

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to be any sexier, Ry.” I abandon my tacos and crawl over to where he’s still lounging on his elbow. I cup his face in my hand and kiss him with all the tenderness he evokes in me. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He smiles, brushing my hair off my shoulder to kiss the freckles there. “So, I’ve been thinking,“ he stares at his hands. I love that I can make this very sexy man nervous.

“In the last five minutes or the last seventy-two hours?” I snicker and he gives me a stern look, “What? It is a little humorous, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he shoots me his lopsided grin,” but I feel like our whole lives have been leading up to this moment. I’ve known you since we were kids, I fell in love with you when I was seventeen years old and now we’re finally here.” He sits up and pulls me into his lap, straddling him. Nose to nose, the air around us hums. “It doesn’t feel quick enough, and I’ve never been more certain about what I want.” He catches my lower lip in his mouth, sucking gently and teasing with his tongue.

“You could talk me into just about anything, kissing me like that,” I murmur. He smiles wickedly. “But you know that. You’re bad.”

“But you love me this way,” he chuckles.

“I do.”

“So are you going to let me tell you what I’ve been thinking?” He bites his lip. He is pulling out all the big guns.

“I wasn’t aware that I was holding you up. The floor is yours, counselor.”

“Wrong kind of counselor, silly.” He shakes his head at me.

“But you love me this way,” I bat my eyelashes.

“So damn much, it hurts.” He runs his hand across my cheek and I plant a kiss in the center of his palm.

“Tell me.”

“I want to look for a position in Charlotte for next fall.” My head is spinning. “Here me out, I would finish the school year here in Des Moines and move into my own apartment in North Carolina in June. It gives us some time to catch our bearings and still be together.” His plan makes so much sense; it’s irritating. There is no loophole to argue, no detail he hasn’t considered. When my eyes meet his, he’s patiently waiting for me to absorb everything. I love him. I trust him. What is the issue?

“I’m scared,” I whisper.

“I’m scared, too, but I am more afraid of losing you than taking a leap of faith with you.” He makes too much damn sense. It makes my lips twitch. Ryan takes this as a good sign because he lifts the corner of his mouth. I’m a goner.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” I giggle when he tackles me, “let’s leap together.”

Epilogue

One Year Later...

Dear Tommy,

Time doesn’t heal all wounds. Whoever said that was either in complete denial or had never suffered the kind of pain losing you brought. In time I’ve learn to recognize the pain for what it is and accept it, but I’ll never get over it.  How could I? For all the suffering I’ve endured in my life, you were my redemption. The one constant who never gave me a reason to doubt your love or your faith in me. So few people are blessed to have someone like that in their lives, and you were mine. I miss you.

You once told me that my story was important and that someday I would tell it to whomever I wanted, whenever I wanted. You were right, I found someone to tell and it has made all the difference. It was long overdue, but when I finally purged every detail, it was finally over. I’m not afraid anymore. The past no longer holds any power over me. I’m not “cured” by any stretch, but I’ve accepted the scars as a part of who I am and so does Ryan. Yes, Ryan. Who would’ve thought that we’d find our way back to each other after all these years? Besides, Aunt Melissa. I swear that woman has a sixth sense.