Page 19 of Tattered
Seven
MAVERICK
The past few days have flown by. I spent most of yesterday at my dad’s house. Going back to that place drudged up so many old memories I’ve kept at bay.
I told myself I only wanted to go get the shit he had kept of my mom’s. Those were the only pieces of my life with him I would ever want to revisit. I found an old box in the bottom of his bedroom closet that kept a lot of her belongings. There were pictures in frames that once hung on the walls, her necklace with my birthstone, and even her wedding ring. Sitting in the front seat of my dad’s truck, I arranged for the cleaning company to come in and clear out the house. Everything inside would be tossed out. They’d get it ready to be listed.
I wanted to wipe my hands of this whole place and never have to come back here.
Except that wasn’t the truth. I did want to stay in Everton, simply because I wasn’t prepared to say goodbye to Ryan.
All this time I’ve been avoiding trips back here, mostly not wanting to face all the terrible memories it would bring. As much as I hated my dad, I admit moving to Everton wasn’t all bad. If my mom hadn’t passed away, my dad would’ve never had been driven to leave. I would’ve never met Dean or Graham, which means I certainly never would’ve laid eyes on Ryan.
Ryan and I have spent time together every day since I’ve been back. My body still craves having her close, every bit as it once did. We haven’t talked about what is still between us. I’ve never seen any sign she wanted it to stop, but Ryan was never one to openly confess her emotions. She keeps her hard exterior firmly in place like a defense mechanism.
The only time I’ve seen any sort of vulnerability shining through the cracked edges was when I pressed a kiss against the tattooed heart on her forearm. I recognized it immediately as being almost identical to the one she had drawn on her perfect skin all those years ago. Only now, the vines wrapped around it look more like barbwire, making it look like it’s somehow keeping all the pieces of her heart together.
Opening the closet door, I pull out the bag where my newly pressed suit hangs. Laying it out on the bed, I head into the bathroom and turn on the shower so it’s hot. The steam rises as I undress from my boxers and move to stand under the spray.
I stopped by the bar last night when Ryan was working. After a long day at my dad’s house and a big day ahead at the funeral, I told her I was going to call it an early night. She was aware I had the funeral today and after I reassured her she didn’t have to come, I decided to head out. It wasn’t long after I came back to the hotel that I crashed.
Standing beneath the hot spray, my thoughts drift back to Ryan. My body aches for her, to have her close to me, especially after all this time. I stand under the water until the temperature turns cold. I’m not surprised that my lack of urgency in getting to the funeral home has me leaving twenty minutes later than I had planned.
Thankfully, I expect this will be a small gathering of only a few friends my dad had made in town and some family members that have traveled in to be here. My Aunt Patricia has made the trip to be here for me.
A few minutes before the services began, I see Dean and Graham enter through the doors.
“Thanks for being here,” I say, reaching my hand out. Graham shakes it, using his other to clap me on the back as he says, “You know we wouldn’t expect you to go through this on your own.”
“That’s right, man,” Dean confirms, reaching around to give me a hug. I follow behind them as they take a seat, making my way toward the front of the room. Sitting with my hands in my lap, I listen as the minister talks about the life my dad has led and the heartbreak from the family he leaves behind.
I feel annoyed hearing him replay all the memories, from stories other family members have shared. I want to cut him off, tell him to stop talking when the sound of heels clicking on the tile floor provide a welcome distraction.
I look up to see Ryan standing next to me in a deep-red sweater and a pair of black, denim jeans. She’s dressed in high-heeled boots, which completely take me off guard. Normally, you wouldn’t find her in anything but a pair of DC’s or Etnies.
Her makeup is dark; her blue eyes made captivating. The small smile that plays on her lips nearly knocks me backward. She rounds the side of the pew, side-stepping her way closer, before taking a seat next to me.
“Hey,” I whisper to her, reaching over to wrap my fingers around hers.
She smiles up at me, a strand of her dark hair falling in front of her face. Keeping her hand wrapped in mine, I use my other arm to wrap around the back of the seat, pulling her to me.
It dawns on me for only a minute that Dean is here before the thought is immediately pushed out of my mind. Pressing a kiss against her hair, I turn toward the minister who continues to talk about all my dad has accomplished in his life. Yeah, he has had several achievements, most of which were before my mom passed.
Running my hand up and down her arm, I press my mouth against her ear and whisper, “You really didn’t have to come, but I can’t lie, I’m so fuckin’ glad you’re here.”
She tilts her head back to look at me. Her eyes bounce between my eyes down to my mouth and back up to meet my gaze. “Don’t you think you should curb the swears, Mav? At least until we leave and are alone.”
“I think you like my dirty mouth.”
When her eyes trail back down to my mouth, I can’t help but smile at the way she bites down on her lower lip. Seeing my reaction to her obvious perusal has her looking back up at me. I flash her a wink which earns me an eye roll as she turns to face forward again.
“I can think of about ten things I’d rather be doing right now with this mouth,” I whisper against her hair.
A shiver rolls through her body as I run my hand back up her arm, knowing it has nothing to do with her body’s temperature and everything to do with my whispered promises.
