Ryker took a bite of pizza and chewed slowly. I remained quiet, hoping he’d open up to me. He swallowed and took a drink of his Coke.
“I’ve told you before that I had a single mom growing up,” he said at last. I nodded. “We lived in a shitty trailer park in a bad part of town. Most days I was lucky if I didn’t get into some kind of scrape on my way home from school. Gangs ran that part of town and they were always recruiting.
“My mom was dead set on me getting a decent education, so she paid tuition for a nicer school than the one in my district. Took nearly every spare dime she had, but she refused to let it go. I thought it would be a shitty way to repay her, by joining a gang. So I always said no, which sounds easy, but wasn’t. They had all kinds of ways of pressuring you, from stalking you for a chance to rough you up, to threatening your family.”
He took a deep breath and I remained quiet, listening. This was more than Ryker had ever told me before about his past.
“Anyway, there was this kid at school,” he said. “A quiet kid, kind of a loner. Rich as fuck, of course. Most of them were. He used to watch me. Tried talking to me a couple of times, but I pretty much told him to fuck off. Figured he was just weird.
“One day I was waiting at the bus stop for my ride home. I had to take two different buses so I usually didn’t get home until about six at night or later. It was early in the winter so it got dark early. I was waiting, and that was the night I got jumped. Three guys in high school, older than me. I wouldn’t join their gang so they’d been told to fuck me over. And they would’ve, too, if Parker hadn’t been there.”
“Parker was there?” I asked in surprise.
“Yeah. He was the guy who wouldn’t leave me alone. No clue why. Maybe he felt sorry for the charity case, maybe he just thought I could use a friend. The other kids treated me like a pariah in their midst. Not him. He was determined we were going to be friends. He’d followed me that day. He was curious, I think. His parents were way into sheltering him from society’s degenerates. Like me, I suppose. Anyway, he flew right at those guys. Didn’t even hesitate. Next thing I knew, two of them were on the ground and one was running away.”
“What about you? Were you hurt?”
“They’d gotten me with a knife. Might’ve bled to death if Parker hadn’t been there and gotten help. He saved my life that night.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell anyone?” I asked.
“Because Parker didn’t want me to,” he said with a shrug. “He knew it would only bring trouble for both of us. The gang would try again for me and might even target him, too, for revenge. As it was, no one really knew what went down that night. Safer for both of us at that age.”
“How old were you?”
“Fourteen.”
“Wow,” I breathed. “That’s … really young to be dealing with that kind of stuff.”
“Tell me about it. Anyway, that pretty much sealed our friendship. I knew his parents could never stand me or understand why Parker would befriend someone from the South Side, but Parker was never like that. He would’ve died for me and me for him. Had each other’s backs all through our deployment. I saved his life a couple times, and he returned the favor. I didn’t think anything would ever—could ever—come between us.”
He had a faraway look in his eyes now and his face looked older. Sadder. Impulsively, I reached for him, cupping his jaw in my hand. His day-old whiskers were rough against my skin.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” I said. “You can be friends again.”
But Ryker’s smile was bitter as he took my hand, moving it from his face to rest on his thigh. “No. What he did was unforgivable. Sometimes, you can’t go back. This is one of those times.”
Natalie.
I didn’t know why, but I felt as though I needed to do all I could to patch up Ryker and Parker’s relationship. They were the two most important men in my life, and they meant something to each other. But in order to do that, I needed to know everything that had happened all those years ago. I needed to know Natalie, and I wasn’t sure how to go about finding out.
CHAPTER TWO
It was the usual morning routine for me: running late because I’d decided to change the polish on my toes—Kiss Me on My Tulips didn’t suit my mood, so instead I swapped it for I Don’t Give a Rotterdam—and I nearly missed the bus. Luckily the driver liked me and knew my schedule, so he always gave me an extra thirty seconds or so to get my butt there.
“Thanks, Bob,” I huffed with a smile, trying to catch my breath as I scrambled up the stairs and into a seat.
“Looks like you got some sun,” he remarked, glancing in the overhead mirror at me.