Bound (20 page)

His tender sensuality was more than I could stand. I was ready to get nailed so I could finally, finally get off, but this? It was too much for my already fragile heart.

“No,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut. “I can’t.”

The deep sigh that seeped out of me wa
s uneven. I wanted to crawl into his arms and run away at the same time. Scream in frustration and laugh hysterically. Fuck him senseless and tell him I never wanted to see him again – at the exact same time. How was that possible?

“Talk to me,” he said in a low tone.

“Ryke.” My warring emotions came through in my tone, which was angry and sad at the same time. “How do you make me feel this way? Why do I let you?”

“What way?”

“I love you and hate you at the same time. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything but I want to run away so bad.”

He was silent and I knew the L word had freaked him out. It had freaked me out, too. Where had it come from? I hadn’t even known I was thinking it until I said it.

“I can’t be with someone so strong and perfect,” I said, sitting up to look at him. He sat up and met my eyes, his brows furrowed with frustration.

“I’m not perfect, Kate. It’s all an image. So my body looks go
od in a fucking magazine ad? So what?”

“No, it’s not that!” My voice rose with certainty
. “It’s the way you can handle
anything
. What happened to Hannah and then to Maggie . . . those things would have killed some people. Just made them shut down and never get over it. But you – you keep living. You’re strong. I’m not, Ryke. Look at me, and look at you. It’s not your body that intimidates me, it’s your strength.”

His eyes burned
into mine as a tear drifted down my cheek.

“It’s not easy,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not as strong as you think. It’s been eighteen years and thinking about Hannah still hurts. I think it always will. And I hurt over Maggie for a long time, too. I decided I didn’t want
anything serious after that. But when I met you . . . Kate, I don’t know.”

“
I know you said I matter to you, and I know we’ve become friends, but really . . . is it just sex?” I asked, my voice raw from the tightness in my throat. “Knowing I haven’t been with anyone in a year, and wanting to be the guy I give in to? Because . . . if it is . . .” I stopped to take a deep breath and wipe my cheeks. “If it’s that, then I might be able to do it. It would be good for me to get past this mental block. I just don’t want to think it means something it doesn’t.”

I was baiting him, which was so unlike me. Trying to get him to say it meant something with some bullshit reverse psychology.

Ryke’s face hardened. “That’s what you think? That this whole three months was just me trying to get laid? Christ, Kate. I’m not a complete asshole. I lost the only woman I was ever deeply in love with. Our marriage was a disaster, but I loved her.”

“I know, Ryke.” I reached for his hand and clutched it in mine. “I know you loved her.”

“So you think I was capable of loving her, just not you?” His eyes widened as he stared at me. “It’s fucking hard for me, but I’m trying, and you fight me every step of the way.”

“It’s not that I’m trying to—”

“You just asked me if I just want to fuck you. If that’s all it is. You think I’d take advantage of you like that?” His jaw was set in a tense line and I pulled my hand off of his.

“Ryke—”

He held up a hand to stop me. “You’re stronger than you think. But you don’t believe in me, you don’t believe in yourself, and I’m not sure there’s anything I can do to change it.”

I sighed, his words stinging me into silence. Was he right?

He stretched back out on his sleeping bag. I hugged my knees to my chest and considered what he’d said. All this time I’d told myself shutting him out was a defense mechanism to protect myself, and I’d never considered that it might hurt him.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Come here.” He opened an arm toward me and
I crawled into his arms, closed my eyes and let his warm, powerful body soothe me. There were so many things I wanted to say, but they all sounded so hollow.

***

The tent was empty when I woke up the next morning, and my heart sank. I didn’t think Ryke would ditch me and go back to Chicago, though I probably deserved it. He’d probably gone fishing or something to avoid me on our last day here.

I was still hopeful as I crawled out of the tent and looked around for him. Some of my friends were quietly going about their morning rituals, but I didn’t see Ryke.

Deacon was sipping coffee from a tin mug when I approached the faintly smoking embers of last night’s campfire.

“Morning,” he said. “Want some coffee?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Ryke said to tell you he went to take a shower.”

A wave of relief washed through me. I wanted to talk to him, but I didn’t know what to say.

“I think I’ll go get a shower, too,” I said, turning for my tent. “I’ll have coffee when I get back.”

I scrambled through my scattered supplies in the tent, grabbing what I’d need as quickly as possible. I couldn’t find the bag I’d brought to carry them, so I gathered everything in my arms and hustled toward the bathrooms.

Although gutsy was no longer a word I’d use to describe myself, it was how I felt this morning. I wanted to catch Ryke still in the shower and join him. Hopefully he’d hear the message I wanted to send him –
don’t give up on me
.

I was jogging as well as I could in flip flops when one of my shoes slipped off my foot. I looked down to get it back on, trying to flip it over with my foot.

“Morning,” a deep voice called. My heart sank. Ryke was on the way back from the shower. But maybe, if I still had a little game, I could convince him to join me anyway.

“Good morning,” I said, smiling. 

“How long did you want to stay before we hit the road today?” he asked.

“Uh . . . it doesn’t matter. We can get going if you want to.”

“No, I don’t want to go. I was thinking of going fishing and wondered if you planned on staying that long.”

Spots of dampness from his chest had spread onto his gray t-shirt, drawing my attention. And there was the fresh Ryke smell I loved so much. Which reminded me I’d said the L word the night before, but he hadn’t. I hadn’t
formally said it, but the words had been spoken and not acknowledged.

“Yeah, you should go,” I said. I shifted and my bottle of shampoo slipped out of my arms. Ryke bent down to pick it up and arched his brows at me.

“Need some help with all this?”

“No, I’m okay. Go fishing. I’ll see you when you get back.”

He stuck the shampoo bottle back in my overfull arms and turned to leave. I blew out a breath in defeat as I walked the last of the mulch pathway to the bathroom. Ryke was distant now, and it was my fault for pushing him away so many times.

I lathered myself quickly in the campground’s bathroom shower. It wasn’t much more than a warm trickle, and I wished for the familiar tub in my mom’s bathroom, where I often soaked away my troubles.

What would I do today, while Ryke was gone fishing? I considered on the walk back and decided to read. Escaping into someone else’s life for a few hours sounded amazing right now.

Ryke came into view and I wondered if I should say anything to him or just let him leave for his day alone. He walked to the shoreline and I figured that was that. But then he paced back into camp and I recognized his expression. Lips tightened, jaw tense, eyes dark: he was anxious about something.

As soon as he saw me, he covered the distance between us in a few long strides. “Come fishing with me.”

Did he want to talk about things? I didn’t know what I’d say if he did. My mind was still swimming from the night before.

“Okay,” I said, nodding slightly.

I’d never fished in my life, but I suddenly wanted to learn.
I wasn’t a woman who let fear and worry rule my decisions. Not in my heart, anyway. I wanted to climb out of the hole I’d dug myself into, and fishing was a good start.

***

The serene expanse of green landscape was morphing back to gray as we neared the city. Ryke and I had spent most of the trip home the same way we’d spent our day of fishing: in silence. He’d baited my hooks, carried my bags and opened my car door, so I knew he wasn’t mad. But this sterile kindness was worse than anger.

“I’ll order flowers for your mom’s birthday tomorrow,” I said. “How would you sign the card if it was you ordering them?”

“Just ‘Love, Jason’ is good,” he said.

“She calls you Jason?”

He smiled. “Yeah, no one but my family calls me that.”

“And you need a new dress coat. Want to go shopping one night this week?”

“Sure.”

The silence returned and I dreaded
getting out of the car as Ryke turned on to my street. I didn’t want things to be awkward between us. There were so many things I wanted to say, but I couldn’t bring myself to open my mouth. I vowed to not get out of the car until we’d talked about things.

Ryke slowed to a stop in my driveway and my plan was forgotten when I looked at my front step.

“Shit!” I cried.

“What?” Ryke turned to me. “Who is that?”

“It’s Quinn.”

“Quinn?” His voice was infused with anger. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“I don’t know.” I buried my face in my hands. “I haven’t seen him since . . . I don’t want to see him, Ryke.”

He patted my knee. “It’s okay. I’ll get rid of him. Stay here.”

The look of terror on Quinn’s lean face as Ryke approached the porch almost made me smile. I could tell by his expression that Ryke was ready to do battle, but Quinn was running for the street, where his car was parked.

Ryke was yelling, but the only words I could make out were “fucking asshole”. Quinn sped away from the curb and Ryke came back to the car.

“Fucking loser,” he muttered as he opened the door.

“Thanks,” I said softly.

“I’ll kick his ass any day of the week. Tell me if he bothers you again.”

This was the Ryke I hadn’t seen all day. The one who could make my heart pound without even touching me.

He got my bags from the trunk and carried them in. Mom wasn’t home, and I wanted Ryke to stay. I wanted him to do a lot more than just stay, actually.

“Alright, see you in the morning,” he said, turning toward the door.

“Ryke.” I took a deep breath when he looked at me. None of the things I thought of saying felt right. A goofy invitation to check out my bedroom would just embarrass both of us. “Thanks for going with me.”

He nodded and left. I sank onto the couch and grabbed a throw pillow, clutching it in my lap. I shook my head over how out of my league Ryke was, but then moved to the edge of the couch as I reconsidered. He wasn’t out of my league. He was a man, and I was a woman. An imperfect one, yes, but I’d never doubted myself like this before.

I remembered something Mom had said to me in this very room when I came home crying during college because some football player had broken my heart. I’d said I wasn’t good enough for him and she’d recoiled like I’d slapped her.

“
Like hell! Katie, people are going to put you down sometimes, because they’re spiteful. But damned if I’ll listen to you putting yourself down.”

I sighed as it hit me that
I had been. Oh, how I had been. Losing my baby had knocked me down as far as I’d ever been. But the only thing keeping me there was me.

Chapter 10

Ryke

I was trying to give Kate some space, but it was so fucking hard. I could tell she didn’t know how to handle the new distance between us. I didn’t, either. We drank our coffee every morning in uncomfortable silence or with her chattering nervously about my schedule.

“
Mr. Ryker? Your off-season training? How did you prepare for the upcoming season?”

A stocky sports reporter with a receding hairline was drilling me in an interview about the start of our season. My mind was elsewhere, but I tried to look focused on him.

“I worked with my trainer on a lot of lower body strength training and I expanded what I did on my upper body this year, too,” I said. “I’ve been doing a lot of weights and endurance training. I can’t wait to get back out there.”

He moved on to Luke with his next question, and I let my mind wander again.
Though I’d only known her since June, it was hard to remember my life before Kate. She’d awakened something in me – the edgy, tense, crazy-fucking-good feeling of falling hard for someone.

I would’ve done anything for her, but finding a way out of the darkness of her grief wasn’
t something I could help with. She needed to figure out all on her own that she deserved to live again – really live, without guilt or fear crippling every decision. It’d been so hard to make myself back off, even though I knew I had to.