“Willa,” he says immediately.
I yank him back to me. Another punishing kiss bruises our lips, clacks teeth. I suck his tongue, palm him through his jeans. I’m wild. I’m off the deep end. I need him. His hands fly up my shirt, as my fingers work his jean buttons loose. He pinches my nipples gently while he leans into my palm’s grip. My eyes roll back in my head.
“Again,” I whisper.
He breathes it against my skin. “Willa.”
It finally sinks in, every question that demands to be answered, ringing inside my head and heart. He’s talking. It has to be the surgery which he kept from me. He’s kept so damn much from me. “Ryder, stop…” He leans back, staring at me in confusion. “You…you, you lying asshole!” I screech, madly crawling out from underneath him and yanking down my shirt.
How did I end up underneath him, about to beg him to take me in the grass right here, under the stars? I got sidetracked. I got a lot sidetracked when that voice called my name. The voice made possible by surgery to correct his hearing and enable speech once again. The surgery I never knew about until after the fact. Just like I never knew his dad was an oncologist, that his dad was my mom’s oncologist. He damn well better not have known either.
“Did you know?”
Ryder stands, buttoning his jeans, staring at me. I’m so used to his quiet, that the long moment that stretches between us doesn’t faze me.
“Willa—”
“Answer me.” I have to fight the shudder his voice sends through my body. It sinks through my ears, rolls down my spine and ignites between my legs. I have to ignore it. “Did you know he was my mom’s doctor? Did you know about my mom?”
Ryder sighs. “It was an accident. I met him for lu—” His voice catches, like the word doesn’t work for him. He clears his throat and swallows. His speech is halting. Every word sounds like work.
I shove my sympathy aside. I’m angry at him. That’s what I need to remember.
“I met him for a meal and spilled water on his desk,” he says. “Her file got wet.”
The backyard swims. Ryder reaches to steady me by the elbow but I drag myself out of his reach. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
His mouth works. I watch his green eyes widen. “Tell you what? That I knew your mom was sick? That my dad was her doctor? Willa, you didn’t tell me anything. I asked about your mom, your home life. You kept that from me.”
“Don’t you dare blame me!” I march up to him and jab a finger in his chest. “That’s my private business—”
“So is my dad’s medical practice!”
I tear at my hair. “When you knew we were coming to your home, why didn’t you say anything?”
“I tried,” Ryder groans. “You kept avoiding me. I couldn’t text you that.”
It’s not enough. It’s not okay. The depth of omission that’s been between us is staggering. I feel like everything that made Ryder feel safe has been ripped away from me. How could he smile at me and talk to me and study with me, night after night, knowing all this? Knowing he was getting ear surgery, and then going to be able to speak, telling me none of this. Sneaking the hearing aid on me. Hiding his own history with the sport we both love. What the fuck has Ryder told me?
“Willa,” Ryder pleads. “Slow down.”
Seems I continue to verbal process. He steps toward me but I back away. His eyes narrow, his jaw clenches. And before he can say one more thing, I turn and sprint into the trees.
22
Ryder
Playlist: “Bloodsport,” Raleigh Ritchie
Goddamn, that woman is fast.
Willa bolts for the trees, her agile body slicing through the shadows. Thankfully, I’ve kept up on my speed-training too, and my legs are fifty percent longer than hers. Soon, I’m right behind her, hearing the sharp gasp of sobs as she runs. I hate that these are the first sounds I’m hearing from her. I hate that this is how she found out. But I can’t change the past, and I’m a practical man. All I can deal with is the present, and as much as possible, the future.
She hurdles a felled tree and falls funny, wobbling for a second before she takes off again. Glancing over her shoulder, she’s wide-eyed, flaming with anger. Her head whips back around and she picks up her speed. I’m at an advantage, in that I know where and how my parents’ property ends. Soon, she’ll run right into a ten-foot-high privacy wall. She’ll be cornered.
Willa’s run slows as she spots the fence. Her head swings left, then right. When she spins and faces me, her eyes dart around, planning her escape.
“Enough, Willa. No more running away. We’re going to talk about this.”
Willa glares at me, wiping an unsteady hand under her nose. “No.”
“Yes.”
She shakes her head. Fine. I can be the bad guy. Piss her off a little bit. Not the first time I’ve done it. Two strides toward her before she even knew I was coming, I bend and toss her over my shoulder. I’m mindful to set her on my left side, farther from my good ear. Then I remember I don’t have good and bad ears anymore. I have new ears. Both of them hear her equally well.
As predicted, she shrieks. I wince, trying to shield myself as best as I can.
“Put me down, you lying, flannel-wearing, tree-limbed, lumberjack son of a bitch!” she hollers.
I just tighten my hold around her legs and hoist her higher on my shoulder. The entire walk across the lawn is punctuated by her yelling strings of expletives. She slams her fists on my back and jerks her strong legs under my grip. I just lock my arms around them.
When I swing open the front door, poor Ziggy’s there, gaping at us. Ren slaps a hand over her eyes and drags her back into the kitchen. Willa seems to sense we’re headed to my room because her panic picks up in the form of fists pummeling my back.
“Put.” Punch. “Me.” Punch. “Down.”
After I slam my door shut, I let her slide down my body, and immediately earn a fist to the chest. Our eyes meet.
“Tell me what you’re angry about. Tell me so I can—”
“So you can talk your way out of it? So you can deceive me some other way as you cover your ass?”
I reel. “Willa, no. I…I never wanted to deceive you.”
“Except for when you snuck your hearing aid on me. When you never told me you played soccer. When you figured out my mom’s your dad’s patient. When you learned she’d be living here. When your ‘minor’ procedure for your ears was actually meant to overhaul your hearing and give you back your speech. Explain to me how you’ve managed to do all that without wanting to deceive me.”
I rake an unsteady hand through my hair. “Okay, when you put it that way—”
“What the hell, Ryder? That’s the only way to put it! How do you even have the audacity to hold me here, expecting me to excuse—”
“I wore the hearing aid because I wanted to hear your voice,” I blurt. “Because when I heard you in Aiden’s class, it wasn’t enough.”
Willa’s jaw drops.
“I-I-I didn’t know you mumble to yourself. I didn’t know because I’d never heard it before. I didn’t know until it was happening, Willa. I didn’t tell you about soccer because it felt pointlessly sad. I was trying to move on. I didn’t talk about your mom because you never talked about your mom. I tried, Willa, but you don’t make it easy. You push people away when they want to be close to you.”