Page 22 of Reaching Ryan

Molly’s head pops up and she gives my dad a wide-eyed grin. “Serious?”

“We’ll split it,” he tells her before giving me a withering glare on his way into the house. As soon as the screen door bangs shut again, I look at Ryan.

“I’m sorry about that.”

His forehead crumples. “About what?”

“About Molly bothering you and—”

“Molly didn’t bother me.” He aims his scowl downward, pulling mine with it, toward his feet. “She tied my shoe for me,” he says, drawing attention to a pair of red-stained laces looped into a set of lopsided bunny ears. “Since I’d been standing here for the past ten minutes trying to remember how to do it on my own before she showed up, I’d say she pretty much saved my life.”

“Yeah, well my dad—”

“Your dad was just looking out for you.”

His tone pulls my gaze up from his feet and I find him watching me, the scowl on his face suddenly deep enough to be categorized as a snarl. “That’s his job. To look out for you. Look out for Molly.” Despite his expression, he doesn’t sound angry. “If I was him and I saw someone like me chatting her up, or you for that matter, I don’t think I would’ve been as… verbal as he was about the whole thing.”

Before I can ask him what he means by that, he turns his head and aims his glare across the yard, toward Conner and Patrick who are still pretending to play darts. “I’m done playing normal for the day. One of you assholes needs to take me home,” he shouts in their direction. “See ya around, Grace,” he says before turning to hobble down the stairs.

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