Love Me Love Me Knot Page 14

  “How’d they die?” Ryan asked using his most sincere voice.

  “I, um, I can’t . . . please.”

  Sophie shook. He felt terrible and realized he’d pushed her too far. “Shhh, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.” He grabbed an extra blanket and wrapped her tightly, turning her toward him and pulling her into his chest.

  She cried into his neck. “Um, car wreck. In Tahoe.” A few tears seeped down his bare chest.

  “I’m really sorry,” he whispered. “I know that must have been hard.”

  “There was a fire and I think my dad tried to get out, but was overcome by the flames. Mom died from smoke inhalation. She couldn’t even breathe.” Sophie clinched his arms so tight, he knew she’d leave a mark, but he didn’t care. After a moment, she let him go. “I want to go home.” She sniffled.

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll take you.” He slid out from under the covers and slipped on his pants.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked.

  “Don’t be.” Ryan swallowed hard. Leaving one blanket with Sophie, he wadded up the others and tossed them to the side. He hopped out while Sophie got dressed and started the truck, blasting the heat and opening a bottle of water for her.

  Honestly, he didn’t know what to do. This was way out of his comfort zone. No girl had ever cried after they had been together. He’d also never been with an inexperienced girl. What was he thinking? God, he hoped he didn’t hurt her.

  When he’d asked her out tonight he hadn’t planned on being intimate, at least not physically. Sure, he’d expected her reaction when he gave her the star certificate, but he didn’t expect her to fall apart.

  Ryan barreled down the road, speeding, watching for cops. She stared out the window and he didn’t know if he was supposed to hold her hand or talk to her or just turn on the radio and let that do all the talking.

  At some point he’d have to tell her about his offer to Sports Now. It was in San Antonio, but it was an offer he couldn’t refuse. It could be really good for him. For them—if she wasn’t breaking up with him, that is.

  “So, you know, I thought I was okay,” she whispered, breaking the silence. “Parents die all the time. But sometimes the pain hurts. My stomach would twist and I didn’t know how to make that pain stop. They gave me medicine but that made me dizzy and tired. I learned if I ate something, my stomach wouldn’t twist so much. So I just . . . ate. And for a while, the pain went numb.”

  Ryan set aside his news, aware this was not the time for that conversation, and set his hand over her arm. She didn’t pull away, but somehow the energy between them had changed. He took his hand back and firmly placed it on the steering wheel. Ten and two, just like Driver’s Ed suggested. “That’s a tough break. No mother to guide you through those awkward years.”

  “Awkward years?” She cut her eyes to him. “What do you mean?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t mean anything. Just, you know, I remember how mean some of the girls were to you. It’s a small school. I noticed things. So what if you ate cupcakes and fries to numb the pain?”

  Sophie covered her face with her hands. “Oh, God. That’s really embarrassing.”

  Ryan’s jaw dropped. What’d he say? “What?”

  “You saw me eating?”

  No big deal. He knew girls her size who ate upwards of twenty-five hundred calories a day when training. Girls handled food differently. That last girl he dated refused to eat in front of him. Sophie didn’t seem to care. He liked that. “Don’t be embarrassed,” Ryan said. “You didn’t have a mom show you how to dress for your bone structure and wear makeup and handle the girls in class.”

  Sophie yanked her hands down. “But you used to date those girls.”

  He looked at her and then back at the nothingness of the night. “Used to,” he murmured, not sure why he had to defend his past.

  “Why are you with me?” Sophie’s question hung in the air like dead weight.

  Ryan blinked. Even in the darkness of night, he could see her biting her lip, and he felt bad for her. She was questioning the wrong person. He should be asking her why she agreed to go out with him if she was that insecure with their relationship. “Because I really like you. I don’t know . . . maybe even more than like you.”

  “Why?”

  “I just do. You’re not like those other girls.” Oh, damn. Wrong answer.

  “What? Like pretty and thin and dressed in the latest fashion?”

  “Sophie,” Ryan said, flipping his turn signal as he pulled on to her street. “I wasn’t insinuating anything. I think you’re beautiful and full of life. I’m sorry about your mom. Trust me, I understand and I’m glad you told me.”

  “I can’t,” she uttered.

  Ryan pulled up to the side of her house and jammed the truck in park. He turned to face her. If this conversation was happening, it would be face-to-face. “You can’t what?”

  Tears slid down her cheeks, landing in his gut like a sucker punch. “I should go.”

  “No, don’t.” Ryan reached for her hand, but she threw open the truck door. “Sophie, wait.”

  “Please. Don’t. I need to go.”

  He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door, not willing to let this conversation end like this. “Sophie, I’m sorry if I said something to upset you.”

  “I need to go. I just . . .”

  Before he had the chance to get out of his truck she had disappeared up her front walk. He ran both hands through his hair. Where the hell did all that come from?

  He turned around to close her door and saw the certificate on the bench seat. He snatched it and before he thought twice about keeping it, he walked it up to the front step and shoved it under her doormat.

  Ryan was almost to the truck when he heard her scream. He almost ran back, wanting to knock down her front door and make her understand that he did love her. That she wasn’t just another notch in his proverbial belt. That she meant more to him than any girl, er, woman, he’d ever had. And he wanted to tell her about his offer and how they could do this together. That he wanted her to come with him. But she had made it clear she didn’t want him around. So much so she was screaming at him.

  He hopped in his truck, unaware that would be their end. If he had known, he would have kicked down that door.

  Ryan slowed the Ducati to a stop in Luis’s garage. A large rock loomed in his path. He swerved, narrowly missing it. “Argh.” He clenched his teeth together. Something that size would have launched him off the bike. He needed to get focused on the present, on his job. Sophie had already broken his heart. No use letting their past distract him from so much he crashed and broke his body too.

  “Where’s that sweet little thing you had with you earlier?” Luis all but drooled.

  Ryan stared at him for a second, wishing he could land a fist against his mouth and add more color to the plated gold and silver. But instead he tossed him the keys and signed off on the return.

  Chapter 16

  Walking back to the ship, Ryan’s mind replayed the whole day in its entirety.

  Something was definitely wrong with Sophie, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Was it the café and the kid who had food poisoning? She did freak out about that. Or was it something more? The decade old guilt lurched deep in his gut told him she probably didn’t trust him, but knowing he had to go back to San Antonio soon, he didn’t want to leave things like this.

  He broke it and needed to fix it. She could trust him. He needed to show her how.

  Tomorrow they would visit Avalon, and there laid his opportunity. It was such a beautiful little island. At least it was when he spent his summers there as a teenager. He would invite Sophie along to meet the woman who took him in when his dad couldn’t look him in the eyes any more.

  Tia wa
s his source of security when his world spiraled out of control. And she was long overdue a visit. He yanked his phone from his pocket to give her a call. As soon as he looked at his screen, he saw he’d missed a call from Phil. Damn. He’d left two more messages this morning and had told Lola to have Phil call him back. Ryan must have missed the call while he was on the Ducati. No voicemail though.

  Something was up. Whether it was a merge—which wasn’t necessarily bad—or a complete shutdown—which was—Phil owed him answers. It wasn’t like Phil to throw him into a situation where he was unprepared.

  Ryan rubbed the back of his neck. Unless Phil had been blinded too.

  He unlocked the phone and called.

  It didn’t even ring before Phil answered. “Hey, Pike. Sorry we haven’t connected yet. I’m swamped here. How’s the training?”

  “Fine. But that’s not why I called. Level with me. What’s the news on the merge?”

  "Yes, about that. Things are picking up around here. I’ve had six meetings since yesterday about it.”

  "Holy hell. Over what?”

  “Jazz’s focus group is assembled, so the Chair is interested is moving forward way faster than predicted. They figure if they close Up Front by fiscal year end, it will bode well for our shareholders. This will look good for you once we vet who stays and who goes. Speaking of which, how goes it?”

  Like shit, Ryan wanted to say. Vetting people for a company-wide termination was not part of his job. “What do you mean by who stays and who goes?”

  Something about this conversation didn’t sit right. He’d made tough calls in the past; it sort of came with the territory. But this was different. The prickling up his back festered as he tried to sort this new information in his head. At no point was he under the impression that a merge meant firing people within a week. And if that was the case, who was on the chopping block? Just people from Up Front? Or was Jazz and Sports Now going to see a ripple effect too?

  “We have some changes coming down the shoot,” Phil said amicably. “So use your training opportunity there to do some vetting. Again, this will look good for you. A merge will allow our strongest team players an opportunity to grow ratings.”

  Changes? Throwing any sort of curve ball at this point could be detrimental. “What changes?”

  “Well, the committee is moving faster than expected. “We should know more in a few days. May even have some severance contracts drawn up by then.”

  Ryan cringed. “Just like that? Cut them loose?”

  “That’s business, son. You’ll get the hang of it.”

  I hope not. “How fast?”

  There was a pause while Ryan heard shuffling of papers from the other end. “Jazz has an estimated date for the focus group to beta read by the first. We need our ducks in a row for the board by then. A full re-launch is scheduled for next month.”

  “The first?” Ryan swallowed a lump. “That’s two weeks, Phil.”

  “Be the first or be the best, and we intend on being both. With Harpoon Inc., launching their e-mag next quarter, we want to have ours trending first.”

  “Where can I find the minutes from the board meeting? You have to at least give me a chance to read the verbiage.” Ryan hoped to find something that could pertain to keeping jobs. New Age journalism was too cutthroat. If they did follow through with a layoff, there’d be a good chance there wouldn’t be other jobs to go to. Not with freelance journalism.

  “I’ll have my assistance shoot you the minutes.”

  “Thank you. I’ll keep you posted, but this is a great team here. I’d rather not see any of them cut.”

  “Nature of business is a beast. But you’ll see it’s what’s best for the company. And it goes without saying this is all confidential. We haven’t even told Red.”

  Ryan almost felt numb when he replied, “Understood.”

  “Atta boy.” Ryan could hear Phil smiling. “Listen, go view those minutes and start making me a list of who you think’s a good fit here. I want to have something to present to the board and HR ASAP. And give me an update tomorrow. Maybe by then I’ll have more information. Just know things are moving fast around here. These are exciting times for Over the Top. We’ll be the first to have a number one e-mag on top of a specialized genre magazine if all goes as planned. We have the edge. And we have you, son. Don’t let me down.”

  Ryan scrubbed his hand through is hair. “Okay, boss.”

  Phil must have heard Ryan’s tone. “Hey.”

  “Yeah?” Ryan was down to one-syllable answers. This conversation sucked the life out of him. He cleared his throat.

  “Go have a drink. It will settle your nerves.”

  Ryan didn’t like the idea of using alcohol as a crutch—a way to numb cognitive thinking when that’s exactly what he needed—to be clear and focused. Alcohol was his dad’s crutch, not his. And it often reminded him of the night his dad found the private letter from Ryan’s sister, Nicole telling him not to let Dad push him into astrophysics. She encouraged him to follow his dream of journalism and Dad would understand. But Dad felt slighted and Ryan broke his middle finger when his dad, drunk and angry, launched at him. That night he learned exactly how much of an affect alcohol had.

  “My nerves are fine.”

  “Bull. Remember we’ve all been where you are and this gets easier. It’s all part of the job. Trust me, the opportunity will leave you high on the hog.” Ryan paused, how could he possibly know how to respond to that. “Have a drink,” Phil repeated.

  “Got it.”

  The call went dead, but it took a moment for Ryan to lower his cell from his ear. He rubbed his hand over his mouth, scratching his stubble. He needed to shave before tonight. Or not. He didn’t really care.

  He showed his key card to the cruise attendant and walked through the metal detector. “Any way I can check to see if my friend made it back yet?” He realized he hadn’t heard from Sophie. Not that she was supposed to check in with him, but he was a little worried.

  The attendant gave him a wry look.

  “Guess not.” He slipped his card back in his pocket and stepped on board. Of course Sophie was here. His mind was messing with him now. He briefly considered just going back to his suite, but the thought of what was in the board meeting minutes made him cringe. That could wait. He’d eventually get to it. And he’d do the right thing by this company. He always did the right thing. He just needed some time to build trust with this group so when the merge was completed, they could still be friends in adversary. He’d offer to write letters of recommendation to anyone who asked. That was all he could do.

  For now, a drink was in order. Phil was right about his nerves. An extra drink wouldn’t hurt. After all, he was not his dad.

  Chapter 17

  To gag or not to gag?

  Sophie stared at the porcelain throne in her tiny cabin, her stomach swirling with anxiety that needed to be purged.

  It had been a long time.

  Too long.

  She’d hit the trifecta—almost drowning, Ryan’s disapproval, and of course failing the girls by botching the scavenger hunt today.

  Her stomach rumbled again, her anxiety dialed way up.

  She shouldn’t do this.

  But it would reset her control. She could release the anxiety and regroup.

  Her stomach grumbled in sync to her rambling thoughts. The epic failure rehashed old wounds and threatened to upend what little food she had thought to eat for breakfast. It would reset her control in the matter. Control she needed since she’d just read that a dozen of her much-needed grants did not meet the requirements to move on to the next stage in the process. Yes, there were still several more to hear back from. But when? Disappointment swelled inside.

  Staring at her reflection, Sophie could almost see her h
eart pounding through her chest. Its thumping pulsed like horse hooves on a cobblestone road.

  The toilet’s ceramic aroma exploded through her, dropping her to her knees. The urge detonated inside her. Her chest tightened. This was like riding a bike. Isn’t that what all addicts said?

  She lifted the toilet lid, and leaned in. A mixture of chlorine and sulfur filled her. Placing her index finger as far back as it would go, she bowed and gagged.

  Again.

  This time her muscles spasmed, and tears sprang to her eyes.

  This used to be so easy. A simple thought could summon the ritual. That’s when she knew she needed help back then. Walking to her car after lunch one day, she vomited without even a second thought. But now, she looked around for something she could use to help things along and spotted her toothbrush. She shoved it deep in her mouth, triggering a gag reflex.

  It was as if the past several years hadn’t closed this door.

  The burn of the bile seeping its way up her esophagus was a terrifying thrill. She thought of Ryan. The sensation of her arms wrapped around him, the feel of him as he maneuvered the Ducati, the rush of nuzzling his back and breathing in that old, familiar scent.

  His cologne. It took her back to when she would rest on his shoulder, breathing him in. He always smelled like cedar and heaven—at least what she imagined heaven would smell like. Ryan and The Ritual. The two went together.

  In little more than a moment, it was finished. Exhaustion took over. Sophie staggered to her feet, flushed, and trudged to her bed. So tired, all it took was falling into her soft, crisp pillow before she drifted into a dreamless sleep.