The Opposite of Wild (26 page)

She sat down and put the cloth napkin on her lap. “This is so nice,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” He pulled at his collar.

The waiter arrived to hand them menus and tell them about the specials. She’d never been to such a nice restaurant. No date had ever taken her someplace this fancy, and her family celebrated every occasion at Garner’s.

Ryan studied the menu, a scowl on his face.

“Something wrong?” Liz asked.

He loosened his shoulders. “I’m just more of a pizza and wings kind of guy, but I wanted something nice for you.”

Liz didn’t want to stay if he didn’t feel comfortable. “Let’s go. I can eat pizza.”

“No. I’m sorry. This isn’t going the way I’d hoped. I want you to have a good time. I’ll try to relax.” He stretched his arms above his head and took a deep breath. “I’m good now.” His eyes were warm on hers. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m good.” Her cheeks heated up. She wished she didn’t always have such an intense reaction to him. “You?”

“Good.”

The waiter arrived to take their order. After he left, silence fell between them. Liz picked at a piece of warm Italian bread. This was exactly what she’d worried about. That they’d have nothing to say to each other, nothing in common.

He gave her a tight smile.

She looked around the dining room at all the other couples chatting away.

“Any interesting cases lately?” she asked.

“Just the usual cheating idiots.”

She nodded, and an uncomfortable silence fell over the table again. Maybe she should have ordered some wine.

She sat stiffly.

He sat stiffly.

Finally, their food arrived, and she cut her chicken piccata into neat squares before spearing one. He had a platter of swordfish with rice pilaf and asparagus.

“How’s Daisy and the baby?” he asked.

Yes, we can talk about family
. “Bryce. They’re good. I’m flying out to visit them in two weeks.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Four days. I can’t miss any school in the beginning of the year. Plus there’s Maggie and Jorge’s wedding.”

He grimaced over the mention of his grandmother’s wedding.

“Did you ever meet up with your father?” she asked.

“No.” He stabbed his asparagus and sliced it in pieces.

“Think about it.”

“Mmmm…” was his noncommittal answer.

Silence descended again. Liz grew increasingly agitated.
What are we doing? Where is this going?

Liz set down her fork. “Ryan, things have been so weird since I thought I was…and then I wasn’t. It doesn’t feel…casual anymore, at least for me. I mean, what do you think? Where’s this relationship going?”

“I hate that question,” he muttered.

“Oh, why, do you get it a lot?” she asked snippily.

“Yes! Women always want to know where the relationship is going. I don’t know, okay?”

Stung, she snapped back, “No, it’s not okay.”

He leaned back from the table. “What do you want from me?”

More than you can give
, she thought. And she knew, just
knew
that it wasn’t fair of her to ask.

“Nothing. Forget I said anything.” She set her napkin on the table. “I think I’d like to go home now.”

His eyes went wide. “Liz, don’t—”

“Just take me home, okay?”

He stared at her for a long moment. “Okay.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ryan leaned back in the vinyl booth of The Fresh Café, waiting for a Saturday lunch with the man he’d never wanted to see again. He’d agreed to meet Jack in his newly adopted town of Fieldridge because Ryan hadn’t wanted to run into any of the busybodies he knew in Clover Park. His coffee remained untouched in front of him, his gut tight, while he watched the door. A range of emotions flashed through him—anger, resignation, fatigue. He was so damn tired. He’d had a stakeout late last night, and not being with Liz was wearing thin. He had no idea where things went wrong with her. Sure, they’d had a pregnancy scare, but that was over. Last weekend, he’d taken her to an expensive restaurant. Most women would’ve loved that. Instead, she’d gotten pissy and demanding and left early.

He had no idea what his next move should be.

The door opened, and his eyes locked with the matching hazel eyes of Jack O’Hare as he walked toward him. The old man looked pretty much the same. His hair had some gray in it after all these years, and there were a few more lines on his face. Ryan studied the man he’d taken after so much in looks. It was like looking into a fucking mirror to the future.

“Ryan, thanks for meeting me.” Jack smiled and sat down across from him.

He didn’t return the smile.

“I was really glad that you called,” Jack said.

Ryan inclined his head, barely, in acknowledgement.

Silence.

Jack looked down at the table, then raised his eyes again. “I’ve been sober three years. I got help. I’m very active in my church. I even met Gina there.”

“Real happy for you,” he replied sarcastically.

The waitress appeared to take their lunch order.

“Just coffee for me,” Ryan said, indicating his cup. He wouldn’t be staying long.

Jack glanced at the menu. “I’ll have a BLT, thank you.” He handed the waitress back the menu.

Silence fell between them again. Ryan had no intention of making it easy on him.

“So this is how it’s going to be?” Jack finally asked. “Just going to sit there mad at me? I am sorry.” He lowered his voice. “You don’t know how much I regret those years. Your mother—”

“Don’t talk about her,” Ryan ground out.

“She was the love of my life. I just…lost myself when she—”

Ryan pounded a fist on the table. Jack jumped. “I
said
don’t talk about her.”

A few customers looked over, and Jack held up a hand, indicating he was okay.

“I’m only here because it makes things better for Gran,” Ryan said through clenched teeth.

They sat in silence. Jack folded his hands and seemed to be praying. Ryan wondered how long he had to sit here to make things right for Gran.

The food arrived, and Jack tucked into his sandwich. Ryan sipped his coffee and eyed the old man. He looked in good health. Guess he didn’t destroy his liver. He was fit and tanned. He took care of himself now. Or Gina did. Not like the wreck he was when Ryan last saw him.

He remembered Jack reeking of booze. It had seeped through his sweat, his stained clothes. His father turned to the bottle in his grief over his wife’s death.

Ryan had been the one to find her. Seventeen years old and he found her after school, dead from an overdose of sleeping pills. She’d left a note:

I’m going to a place where there’s no pain.

I love you all—

Lisa

Ryan had tried to revive her, shouting her name, trying to shake her awake. He called 911, called his father, but it’d been too late.

Too damn late
.

He’d always known something was wrong with his mother. She’d spent long days just sitting in a ratty old robe, staring at nothing. She’d been so sensitive too; anything could set her off in a crying spell. Shane was sensitive. Ryan kept a close eye on him over the years, looking for signs of depression, determined Shane would get the treatment their mother never had, if necessary. But Shane was fine. Sensitive, not depressed.

Jack should have made sure she saw a doctor. Ryan thought that then, and he thought that now.

Jack also should’ve been the one to find her.

Ryan found out later—in one of Jack’s drunken rambles—that she’d called him at work and begged him to come home early, saying she needed to see him. He’d said he’d come home right away. But he hadn’t. Believing him, she’d left the note and went to sleep forever.

Ryan knew his mother would not have wanted him or his brothers to see her like that.

Things got worse.

Jack lost his job, unable to stop drinking. He left them for days on end, leaving Ryan to keep Trav, fifteen, and Shane, thirteen, in line. He learned quick how to scramble some eggs and make the most out of spaghetti for their ever-hungry pits. He spent his own measly savings from mowing lawns for food. And when that ran out, he had to steal cash from Jack’s wallet. He only got the chance to do that once.

He’d stolen fifty bucks before school while Jack slept the deep sleep of the drunk. When he got home from school, he was met at the door by an awake and angry Jack. His eyes were bloodshot, and he gripped an open bottle of whiskey.

“You little thief!” Jack yelled, his words slurring. “I know it was you. I want my money!” He grabbed for Ryan’s backpack, but Ryan spun away.

He’d already spent the money on food, and it was in his backpack. No way was he handing it over.

“Get back here!” Jack charged him unsteadily.

Ryan wasn’t as strong as his father, but he had youth and speed on the drunk man. He managed to dodge his father’s punch and put some space between them.

“We need food,” Ryan said. “Look at you! You’re drunk. Get it together. Trav and Shane need you.”

“Trav and Shane…” Jack muttered as he came closer.

“Yes, Dad—”

Jack threw a right hook that sent Ryan reeling. He put his hand to his cheek where it was already swelling. Jack was coming for him again, ready to pound him.

Shane came home then. Trav was God-knew-where, getting into trouble again.

His brother ran between them. “Dad! Ryan! Stop it!” Jack’s fist connected with his younger son’s chest, knocking him down.

Shane started crying.

“Shane! I’m sorry,” Jack said.

“Get out!” Ryan yelled at his father. “We don’t need you around here!”

Jack stood over Shane unsteadily. “Are you okay?”

Shane held a hand to his chest and nodded.

“Get out, or I’ll call the cops!” Ryan yelled.

Jack left, eyes downcast, shoulders drooping, whiskey still in hand.

And he didn’t come back.

Ryan had tried to find him, but no one knew where he was. He’d been afraid to report his father missing because he and his brothers could all end up in separate foster care homes. He held their little family together for as long as he could, trying to keep up the appearance of a normal family. Finally, two weeks later, exhausted from school, the extra lawn-mowing work he’d picked up for cash, and lack of food, he’d called Gran.

“I’ll be right there,” she’d said. And she’d been there for them ever since.

Unlike this asshole
, he thought, as he looked across the table at Jack.

“Gran took better care of us than you ever did,” Ryan said.

Jack winced. “I know I was no kind of father to you after…
what happened
, but I was there for you before. Don’t your remember all the dinners I burnt? All the time I spent playing ball with you guys on the weekends?”

Ryan’s mind flashed to a dinner of burnt burgers. Bits and pieces of terrible meals his father had made came flooding back—dried-out chicken, burnt burgers, burnt fish sticks. He’d hated those meals. He and his brothers lived for their Friday night pizza. He’d always blamed his father for the awful food, but now he knew why he did it. Because Mom couldn’t. She’d wander around the house, snacking here and there. Her idea of a meal was giving them chocolate pudding and oranges. Which he’d loved as a young kid, but as he grew older and ate more at friends’ houses, he’d realized that wasn’t normal.

He remembered catch in the yard with Jack too, of course he did, but the memory was such a painful contrast to Jack’s drunken abandonment that he couldn’t go there. His father had abandoned them, left them to fend for themselves. Pizza and ball could never erase that.

Ryan fixed Jack with a level stare. “So you blame the alcohol.”

“Alcoholism is a disease,” Jack said evenly. “I may never be cured of it, but every day I say no to alcohol.” He put a twenty on the table, took a deep breath, and looked Ryan in the eye. “Your grandmother is a wonderful woman, and I thank God you had the sense to call her when I couldn’t handle things. The thing is, she’s done raising you boys, and now is her time. She deserves a chance at happiness. We all do. I’ll admit I was worried at first. It was so sudden, and Jorge is so much—”

“Younger,” they said at the same time.

“I know!” Ryan said. “I told her…” He stopped himself as he realized they saw eye to eye on something.

“You won’t have any problems from me at the wedding,” Jack said. “And I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I hope you’ll still give me a call now and then. I live about a mile from here, not far for a visit.”

Ryan didn’t reply. He wouldn’t be visiting.

Jack leaned forward. “This is my last apology to you. I was weak, and I failed you—something I’ll always regret—but I got help, and I got my life together. I’m sorry for any pain I’ve caused you.”

“Did that work on Trav and Shane?” Ryan asked sharply.

Jack narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t an act. It’s a genuine, humble apology. I’m trying to make amends. And yes, it did. It’s a start. One I hoped to make with you. But you’re the tough one, huh?”

“Tough because I had to be.” He stood.

Jack stood too. They were an equal height—face to face. The older man didn’t step back to let him pass. They eyed each other.

A look of sadness passed over Jack’s face. “It’s too late. I see that now. Goodbye, Ryan. I’ll see you at the wedding; then I’ll stay out of your way.” His shoulders slumped as he headed for the door.

Jack is pathetic
.

He watched him go.

Aw, hell, he felt like he’d kicked a dog.

Ryan heaved a sigh and stopped his father on the sidewalk. “It’s not too late. It’s just…not easy.”

His father choked out a laugh. “No, it’s not easy.” He held out a hand to shake.

Ryan looked at the hand and then back up to the face so like his own. He shook it, and his father pulled him in for a hug. They pulled apart.

His father gave him a curt nod. “I’ll see you later, son.”

“Goodbye,” Ryan said, feeling the rightness of getting to say what he hadn’t gotten the chance to say the last time he’d seen him.
Goodbye
.