Ridge Read online

  I needed her. I wanted desperately to call her. Give in and fall back into my old ways.

  I tossed my phone across the counter and groaned as I clenched my eyelids together.

  Fucking wasn’t working. Exercise wasn’t working. And when fucking and exercising didn’t work, I was in trouble. They had to work. I had to make them work. Because I feared where I’d fall if they didn’t.

  “Hey, big brother.”

  I’d finally worked up the energy to call him. I hadn’t spoken to him since his accident, which had been all sorts of awkward. Mrs. Barton, the neighbor who’d raised my brother and me after my parents died, had called to let me know there’d been a horrible accident and Lane was in the hospital. I rushed to my hometown and camped out for days until I knew he was okay.

  Slade, my brother’s best friend, someone we’d both grown up with, was there, and we'd chatted. He filled me in on what Lane was like after Mia. How things were between him and Kat, his new girlfriend and the accident that had landed them both in the hospital.

  “Hey,” Lane murmured over the phone. He’d never been much for words.

  “I thought we could get together. Hang out, catch up.”

  “You comin' home?”

  I cringed when he said that word. Rock Island wasn’t my home. I hadn’t thought of it that way in a long time. Plus, I wasn’t sure if Mia had gone back there. It was where she was from, where her parents lived. I could only assume she’d gone back, but since I hadn’t talked to her, I didn’t know for sure.

  “I thought you could come to Portland.”

  “I don’t like to leave Kat,” was his immediate response.

  “Just for the day?”

  I heard a heavy sigh over the phone. “Just a sec.” I heard soft murmuring as he pulled away, and muffled noises as he presumably held the phone to his chest to discuss this with someone else in the room. “Friday, Kat works at the library. That good for you?”

  “Yeah, Friday works.” My heart thudded erratically as I thought about hanging with my brother. Catching up. Just talking. The first steps to hopefully clearing the air between us.

  “Great. See you then.”

  “Yep,” I muttered just as I heard the line go silent. He could be a surly fucker.

  I set my cell phone down on the desk and turned in my chair to look out the window that overlooked the city. The day was overcast, another storm threatening to dump untold amount of inches of the white shit on the city.

  I tapped my fingers on my desk as my mind ran away with me. Maybe we could never get past this. I’d fucked up so thoroughly. Even before Mia, Lane hadn’t liked me. I’d done too much. He’d tried so hard to make our lives right after Dad had died on the water and Mom took her life in the mental facility. The pain squeezed my heart at the thought of the two of us, the happiness we’d once had, before our parents had passed, and then, the after.

  When things had gone to shit.

  The stealing. The alcohol. The drugs. The girls. Lots of girls. The detention hall.

  I clenched my fist tightly around the edge of the desk as I thought back on that time.

  Truth was, I couldn’t blame Lane for pushing me away; I’d never amounted to much of anything, but once I had—once I’d gotten life on track—maybe I was pissed that he was still so standoffish. He still blamed me for the things I did in my youth. Maybe that was why I’d slept with Mia, to somehow get back at him, inflict the pain he’d put on me when he’d disowned me.

  I’d made a good life these past few years, but it still felt so fucking hollow until Mia had come into it. And now that I was without her . . .

  I couldn't see my future anymore.

  I never should have walked across that line almost two years ago when my brother had called.

  “Mia’s mom is sick; she’s in Portland. I’m fucking worried about her, but I’m stuck on this job. I can’t leave. Can you check on her?” My brother's voice came in a rush over the phone.

  “Yeah, man. Where?”

  “Mercy Hospital. Her mom was just diagnosed with cancer; they’re throwing all this medical talk at Mia and she’s in rough shape . . . I feel like shit that I can't be there.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll run over and check on her. Give you a call once I see her.”

  “’Kay. Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

  “No prob, brother.” I hung up and a small smile lifted my lips.

  My brother was calling on me, needed my help. He never asked for help, and while I knew he was engaged, I’d never met Mia. I’d heard a lot about her; he turned into a sap when he talked about her. But asking me to help him was so far out of the norm for him.

  I would do it. No matter what he asked, I would always do it.

  “Mia?” A dark brown head turned at the sound of her name on my lips. Tears welled in her eyes, her face swollen and eyes bloodshot, but she was still beautiful. My brother was a lucky sonofabitch. “I’m Ridge, Lane’s brother.”

  “Hi.” She nodded and then turned back to the sleeping form on the bed.

  “He wanted me to check on you, see if you needed anything.” I shuffled my feet back and forth, hands shoved deep in my pockets.

  “No, I’m fine,” she mumbled without turning to look at me.

  “You look like you've been here for days.”

  “I have.” Her tone was so flat. Dead.

  “I could bring you something to eat? Get you a change of clothes at your hotel room?”

  “I don’t have a hotel. I’ve been sleeping here.”

  My eyes darted around the tiny space. A stiff-looking folding chair and even more uncomfortable-looking love seat were the only furniture.

  “That looks like a torture device.” I kicked at the corner of the couch.

  “Heh. It is, but I’m not leaving.”

  “You should leave, baby. I’m okay, just sleeping all the time anyway.” Her mom’s eyes had opened, her voice thick with sleep.

  “No, I won’t leave you, Mom.”

  “Mia, leave. At least for a little while. Go get something to eat, a shower. I’ll be here when you get back.” Her mom cracked a small smile.

  “Mom . . .”

  “Go, Mia. Nothing is going to change just because you sit here and hold my hand.”

  Mia tightened her grip on her mom’s hand before standing slowly.

  “Thanks for coming to check on her.”

  “No problem.”

  “He looks just like Lane, doesn’t he?” her mom mused as she found my eyes.

  Mia’s gaze flicked over to mine before she picked up her purse and tossed it over her shoulder.

  “I’m just going to grab some coffee, Mom. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “No, get something to eat, a shower. Don’t worry about me, honey.”

  Mia nodded sadly before placing a kiss on her mother’s forehead and turning to me. I smiled and trailed down the hospital hallway after her.

  “I know you said you don’t have a hotel. If you want a shower, you’re welcome to take one at my place.”

  “That’s okay.” Mia punched the down arrow on the elevator.

  “Dinner, then? Coffee?”

  “Coffee is good.”

  “There’s a small bistro around the corner . . .”

  “I don’t want to leave the hospital.” She pushed the cuticles back on her nails, fidgeting and uncomfortable.

  “I can’t stand hospitals. Full of sick people and sick-people smells.”

  Her eyes flicked up to mine and I instantly regretted my words. What a fucking idiot.

  “Yeah, I hate them too.”

  “So let’s get something to eat. Hour tops.”

  “’Kay,” she mumbled when the elevator doors dinged open and we stepped into the lobby, heading for the sliding doors and out into the cold Maine winter.

  I was a nervous fucking pussy all week.

  The only other time I’d felt like this recently was seeing my brother in that hospital bed. Al
l jacked up and helpless. And then when he woke, before he'd said a word, when his eyes landed on me, I was worried he'd kick me out. Force me to leave. Throw me from his life forever.

  And he would have had every right. He'd only just discovered that Mia and I had been together all the time since they had broken up. Since I'd broken them up. The thought tugged at my stomach.

  He could still fucking hate me. And I would deserve it.

  Friday afternoon rolled around, cold as a motherfucker, but no snow in sight. Thankfully. I half wanted a snowstorm to blow in to delay Lane, and was half afraid it would because I knew this needed to be done. We needed to have this talk if I wanted to set us on the right path.

  The path from our past, to our future. We needed to get past all the fucking up I’d done.

  I only hoped he could forgive me.

  “Hey.” I looked up from the bar of the dark pub we’d chosen to meet at. Dad had taken us here often as kids. He’d set us up with French fries while he talked fishing stories with friends. Lane and I overheard a lot as kids in this old bar and I hoped coming here would pull at Lane’s memories, remind him when times were simpler, before we’d lost Mom and Dad.

  “Hey.” He nodded at me and then gestured to the bartender for a beer.

  “How you feeling?”

  “Good.” Lane ran a nervous hand through his hair. His fingers tapped a hollow rhythm on the old wooden bar top. “Been forever since I was in here.”

  “Me too.” I looked around at all the same old pictures, fishing trophies, yellowed newspaper clippings.

  “Looks exactly the same,” Lane muttered.

  “Yeah, it does.” I pulled from my beer bottle as I thought about what to say.

  “Kat okay?”

  “She’s good. Asked her to marry me.”

  “No shit.” My smile grew. I was glad my brother had that. Had found someone to live the normal life he’d always wanted, deserved. If I couldn't have it, I was glad he could.

  “Stay away from her.” He tossed me a nasty look and then swiped his beer bottle off the counter and chugged it.

  “Lane. Jesus Christ.” I hadn’t expected that. Did I deserve it? Sure. Without a fucking doubt. In fact, I probably deserved to have my face bashed in on this bar.

  “I fucking mean it.”

  “I know. I would never . . . look . . . I . . .” I ran a nervous hand through my hair and scrubbed at my face with my rough palm. “Mia and I—”

  “Can we not rehash? I can’t even stand to hear her name,” Lane growled and I watched his fist turn white, clutching it so tightly.

  “I know, man. I’m so fucking sorry. I can’t even tell you.” I tugged at the strands of my hair as my heart thudded in my chest. This wasn’t coming out right. I couldn't force the words. What was I supposed to say to my brother? How sorry I was for fucking his fiancée? “I broke up with Mia. I just wanted to tell you that.”

  Lane’s head whipped around to take me in, the beer bottle frozen halfway to his lips. His eyes bore into mine and I couldn’t look away. I had to make him see me. My sorrow. How completely fucking regretful I was for what I’d done.

  “Look, I know I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve anything from you. The fact that you even cam—”

  “No shit.” He turned away and drank from his beer.

  “Well, I just had to tell you, after we saw you in Rock Island, it fucked me up.”

  He stared straight ahead, not acknowledging my words.

  “I wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same. Seeing your face. I’m so fucking glad you found Kat, man. You deserve her. I can see it in her eyes. She adores you.”

  “Stay the fuck away from her.” He shot me another glare.

  “I know. Fuck, I know. But after seeing you, I was fucked up. I broke up with her a week later.” I ran my fingers along the worn grain of the bar. “I haven’t seen her since.” I said the last words so softly, I wasn't even sure if he heard them. My heart felt like it was cracking straight in fucking two.

  “This why you called me? That was over a month ago.”

  “It took me this long to grow the balls to call you. I just needed to tell you . . . sorry. I’m really fucking sorry.” I finished my beer and called the bartender over. “Shot of Jack.”

  “I’ll take one too.” Lane set his bottle down on the counter with a loud thud. “Why’d you do it?”

  “I . . .” My mouth hung open like a gaping fish. “I can’t even say.”

  “Bullshit. I know she wasn’t just a lay for you. You were fucking together.” He growled out the last sentence.

  “Christ, I know. She wasn’t. There’s just a lot of shit, it’s hard to explain, but I don’t know why I did it. I was fucked up over some stuff, but I’m not anymore.” Lie. “And seeing you . . . fucking sucks that I've been out of your life for all these years.” The bartender dropped our shots in front of us. I slugged mine back. “Another.”

  “Two more.” My brother held up two fingers. I wasn’t sure if us getting fucked up would be good or bad for our relationship. But I didn’t think being sober was doing us much good.

  “I’m sorry too.”

  I arched an eyebrow at his quiet admission. That surprised the fuck out of me. After juvie, Lane had turned his back. I never heard a thing. I got it at the time. I wasn't worth being in anyone’s life. But now, that word slipping from his mouth helped.

  After a handful of shots each, we'd refreshed our beers and moved to a table in the corner. The liquor allowed us to drop the chip we both carried like armor, and we'd told stories and laughed about growing up together. It felt good to reminisce with my brother about the good times. So much of my life was about the bad, but he reminded me of the time before it all went to shit. He reminded me of all the days leading up to that night when the chief of police had knocked on our door, told Mom that Dad's boat had disappeared off radar. She'd hit the kitchen floor, the light in her eyes extinguished, replaced with anguish and despair, and my life had been forever changed.

  But I was at the point where the liquor was turning me reflective. Guilt burned a hole in my stomach.

  “I think I did it because I was mad at you,” I muttered so softly that I was surprised he’d heard. But he had. His head shot up to mine, his hard blue eyes searching my face for sincerity. He’d find it. Because I was so fucking sincere.

  “What the fuck for?”

  “For leaving me. Look, I know I deserved it. I was fucked up for a long time.” I twirled the bottle in my hands and peeled at the label. “But it felt like you just walked out of my life; even after I had my shit together, I got the impression you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

  “You never came home.”

  “I didn’t like to. It was hard. The memories. Where it all started. Mom and Dad.”

  Lane nodded his head sadly. I knew he got it. We were just two different people. He found comfort in the staying and I found it oppressing.

  “I’ve turned shit around, man.”

  “Saw your restaurant in the paper.”

  “Which one?”

  “New one. In Bangor.”

  “Yeah, it’s doing well.”

  Lane only nodded as he averted his eyes. “I gotta head out. Wanna get home before dark.”

  “Yeah.” I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice. “You okay to drive?”

  “Yeah, you were the one knockin' 'em back, little bro.” He grinned at me, a sense of ease in his features.

  “Yeah.” I ran a hand through my hair. I half wished he'd stay the weekend. We'd lost so much fucking time.

  “Glad you called.” He stood and held his hand out.

  I nodded as I stood and shook his hand. His grip tightened and he pulled me in for a one-armed man hug. I swallowed at the surprise of it.

  “Slade’s got big plans for the bachelor party, I’ll tell him you’re in.” Lane slapped me on the back before pulling away.

  “Sounds great.”

  He only nodde
d in response, his features shutting down, the moment of emotion between us gone.

  “Later, Lane.”

  “Later, little bro.” He smacked me one last time on the shoulder and then his tall frame headed out of the bar and into the afternoon light. It was fitting. Because standing alone in that bar, watching him go, I felt lighter than I had in years.

  That weekend, after Lane’s and my reunion, I felt lighter. I felt good about where we’d been and where we were going. I knew I’d done the right thing calling him, but why did I feel so fucking terrible?

  Reconnecting with Lane felt like the last nail in the coffin with Mia. I’d told him I was sorry. I'd meant it, but I didn’t regret it. Mia made me feel like no one ever had, and I felt terrible that I couldn’t regret that.

  So here I sat, Saturday night after ten, fresh from a two-hour workout. I hardly ever did two-hour workouts, but I was chasing something, or running from something; I wasn’t sure.

  If anything was clear, fucking random chicks wasn’t working; I was just as fucked up as ever. And I felt guilt eating a hole in my stomach, like I was cheating on Mia. I wondered what she was doing. If she was at her apartment, if I could pop over and she’d be home. She only lived across town. I imagined walking in her door, seeing her there, in the oversized shirt that she slept in, her hair pulled up in a messy bun, looking so sweet and fuckable. My chest ached and my dick stirred.

  I clenched my eyes and rubbed a palm over my face. I sauntered to the kitchen, hair still wet from the shower, and poured a glass of bourbon. I didn’t often drink hard stuff, but the darkness was getting darker. Mia had been the only one to chase it away for long. Being in her presence was like being bathed in a soft light. One where the shadows existed, but were muted.

  I knew I’d hurt her so fucking much. The memory of her soft features falling in pain when I kicked her out that night came rushing back.

  I took another sip.

  Exercising wasn’t working.

  Fucking wasn’t working.

  Maybe relationships worked better. Maybe Mia had opened up something in me that I thought was broken. Maybe I could move on from her, be in a relationship with someone else. I set the glass in the sink and fingered the lip of the bottle of whiskey before making a decision.