15. Ryland

15

RYLAND

L ife sucked.

I released a frustrated growl as I scrolled through my recent photos. “World’s gone to fucking hell. I want off this roller coaster ride before the whole thing catches fire.”

Arthur looked up from his computer. Sighing, he removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This again?”

“Yes, this again.” I shoved to my feet and thrust the camera forward. “I haven’t been able to take a decent picture to save my fucking life. This is bullshit. We need to find out why Hannah left.”

Scott threw back his Scotch, his third one in the last hour, and nodded drunkenly in my direction. He pointed at me. “I’m with him.” He’d had enough to slur his words but remain coherent.

The weeks without Hannah had changed all of us. Arthur had lost weight, and all the casual softness Hannah had brought out in him retreated behind a thick wall of British stoicism. Scott was drinking more and hadn’t brought home a single woman, which was enough of a shock for both Arthur and I to keep a close eye on him.

“She chose to leave.” Arthur’s clipped tone and the hardness in his eyes and jaw warned me to leave it alone.

The hell I would. “I’m sick of this. We’re moping around, acting like a bunch of poor bastards, when what we need to do is just go see Hannah and ask her why she left.”

She had enjoyed herself while she was here. We’d all seen it. The massive hole in my chest grew wider. Much more and I’d turn into a black hole—my soul, my heart, everything that was me sucked into the void as I turned inside out. I’d never recover from the loss.

Scott stood on wobbly legs and staggered over to the bar. “Anyone else want one?” He sloshed amber liquid into his crystal tumbler and downed it before either of us could answer. “Ryland’s right. Need to do something.” He put his back to the bar and slid to the floor. “I can’t…” He shook his head. Drunk Scott tended to spit truth with a knife-edge of pain attached. “Can’t fuck anyone else. Makes me sick to even think about another woman.”

I’d witnessed that truth myself a few days ago at a restaurant when we sat down to eat. The waitress, a busty blonde whom Scott would’ve had instant interest in before, practically crawled in his lap during the meal. He pushed her away with several comments about not being interested.

“There is more to life than alcohol and women.”

Arthur’s dry tone brought out a furious string of curses from Scott. He threw the empty crystal decanter at the wall. It shattered, spraying glass in every direction. “I know that, Arthur.” He stretched out Arthur’s name, making it sound like a curse word. “I’m not talking about other women. I’m talking about Hannah.” He ran a hand across his chest, right over his heart. “I’m talking about the one woman in the whole godforsaken world who has the ability to make me want to spend eternity making her happy.” Not a single word slurred. Scott stood, looking stone-cold sober. He banged his fist on the walnut bar. “I’m with Ryland. We need to understand. I need to understand why she left. Otherwise, I’m going to end up a drunk billionaire who loses everything. You two will try to stop me, but you’ll fucking fail.”

I knew he meant every word. The anguished look in Arthur’s eyes told me he knew it too. We had to stop this. If neither of them had the balls, I’d do it myself. But first, I needed to clear my head.

“I’ll be back.” I left the room before I did something I’d regret. I had to get out of this tomb of a house. There was no joy here without Hannah and Liddy. They’d brought us to life and living without them proved tedious and downright impossible. I needed air and a fresh perspective for my photography.

My pictures had become bland and lifeless without Liddy’s laughter and boisterous energy. Why had Hannah left ? That question kept me up all hours of the night and kept my body tensed with a kind of anger I’d never felt before. We deserved an explanation. I’d hounded Arthur, telling him we needed to reach out to her even though I knew it’d be going against Hannah’s wishes.

Fucking hell, I needed to know.

I climbed into my Aston Martin and revved the engine. Tires squealed, leaving a stretch of black on the asphalt when I peeled out of the driveway and headed to the local park. Fresh air and sunshine were supposed to be a great cure for creativity.

But what about heartbreak?

My fingers tightened on the wheel. I took a curve too fast, a flush of adrenaline kicking in, and for a split second, I forgot about how much Hannah leaving us hurt.

Slamming onto the brakes, I wheeled into the parking lot and cut the engine. No one looked my way when I stomped on the walking path and marched into the trees. Birds twittered overhead. I aimed the camera into the trees and shot a rapid series as a bird took flight. The tight feeling in my lungs loosened a smidge. I breathed in the mulch and flowers, sunshine and crisp air. It was an organic mix that I found comforting.

I rounded a curve in the path and the sight of a woman walking ahead of me grabbed my attention. She wore a soft gray coat to combat the chilly autumn air. Long, dark hair cascaded down her back, and she held a little girl’s hand. The two of them walked with a slow but sure progression, sometimes one of them pointing toward something off in the distance. The girl skipped, and the joy in her gait demanded a picture. I raised my camera and clicked. I’d need their permission if I wanted to capture their faces, but feeling this surge of inspiration held my finger on the button. I stepped off the path for a better angle and risked another picture.

The girl skipped and twirled. Her mother raised her hand to help her complete the pirouette.

My heart froze, my entire body flushing ice cold, then volcano hot. “Liddy.” I breathed her name.

Of all places, I’d never thought I’d run into them here. I should have. Hannah and Liddy loved this park. I’d shown it to them soon after they arrived for the summer when Hannah had mentioned that her neighborhood park was too dangerous for Liddy.

My stomach twisted itself into a hard knot when Hannah looked over her shoulder. If she saw me with my camera, she might think I was following her. Stalking her. I swung my camera around to my hip and replaced the lens cap.

A bench a few feet ahead of me was empty, so I rushed over and sank onto it, keeping Hannah and Liddy in view. They left the path, and I watched as Hannah helped Liddy onto a swing. Her back remained to me, as did Liddy’s. Liddy threw her head back and laughed at the sky. The wind caught her merriment and carried it to me, where it popped in my ears with a rush of memories.

Hannah pushed Liddy higher in the swing, her own laughter joining her daughter’s. I ached to keep taking pictures, but I no longer had that right. The hollowness expanded in my chest, threatening to suck me in. I should walk away. Any minute now I will stand and turn around, leaving them to the peace Hannah requested. But not yet.

A woman and her dog walked in front of me, momentarily blocking my view when the woman stopped to adjust her shoelaces. She eyed me, her look curious. I managed a tight smile and nod.

Her dog, a massive creature with gray and black fur, spotted a squirrel down the trail and barked. “Don’t you dare,” the woman warned while tightening her grip on the leash and turning around. “Heel.” The dog barked again, the sound deep enough to send startled birds flapping from the trees.

Liddy turned toward the sound. Her face lit up and she jumped from the swing. Hannah dove sideways to grab her. “Liddy, where are you going? You can’t run off like that.” Liddy ducked around Hannah’s grasping hand and bolted straight for me.

I sank to a knee, catching Liddy when she jumped into my arms. She hugged my neck tight, and a few of the broken pieces of my heart nestled back into place.

“Liddy!” Panic laced Hannah’s voice.

I understood her fear. All she saw was Liddy running away from her and hugging a random man. Her motherly instinct would instantly paint me as some villain set to steal her baby. I raised my head and met her horrified gaze.

She stopped her headlong rush. Liddy had grown enough in the passing months that her legs dangled to my waist when I stood. I set her on the curve of my elbow and patted her back.

She continued to cling to my neck. “Hi.” Her tiny voice whispered into my ear. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” I whispered back. All the emotions I’d kept bottled up threatened to spill out. Seeing Liddy and Hannah uncorked the stopper and let them run rampant through my body.

Hannah smiled and clasped her hands in front of her waist. A brisk wind teased her hair and put pink in her cheeks. Hesitation showed in her slow steps and the way she looked from me to Liddy, her throat dipping in several hard swallows.

Liddy raised her head from my shoulder and poked my topknot. The familiarity of the gesture took away the last of my unease. Whatever happened between us and Hannah, Liddy still showed her genuine affection for me.

“Hello, Hannah.” I bent at the waist and set Liddy down when she kicked at me.

Liddy darted back to Hannah’s side and danced around her in a circle. “Ryland’s here. Ryland’s here. Where are Scott and Arthur?” Even her voice seemed to have changed, losing some of the baby tone.

“They’re at home,” I answered through the clenching in my gut. Questions bombarded me. I bit them back, reluctant to speak them in front of Liddy. “How’s school?”

“Great.” Liddy continued to twirl. “Mama got the stomach flu and barfed all over the place. We stayed home two whole days.” She stopped dancing long enough to hold up two fingers.

“That sounds terrible.” If only she’d stayed, we could have taken care of her instead of them being alone. Hannah ducked her head, hiding her eyes, and leaned down to button Liddy’s coat. “I’m all better now.”

“Yep. And I didn’t get sick once. Mama says I have a super ‘mune system.”

“Immune system,” Hannah interpreted when confusion stampeded across my face.

I nodded. “Ah.”

And with that, the conversation dwindled. Hannah stuck her hands deep in her pockets and looked everywhere but at me. The urge to reach out and touch her was overwhelming. Every nerve vibrated until my body hummed with enough tension that a single strum of energy would have caused me to shatter.