Sinful Desire

She picked up the thread, crossing her fingers. “Do you still want me to come by later? Or do you want to come here?” she asked, ready to kick herself for sounding like a lovesick teenager.

“Soph,” he said, his voice heavy. “I’m not in a good place right now. I think I just need to give John the news then be with Shan, Michael and Colin. Everything—the visit, the pattern, the stuff she said—it’s hitting me hard and fucking with my head again. Let me deal with this and then I’ll see you.”

She gulped. “Of course, of course. This is a huge thing and you need to talk to them.”

“When do you get back from your trip?”

“Next week.”

“I’ll see you then. We’ll do something special. Finally ride the roller coaster at New York, New York together. Okay?” But he didn’t sound as if he was looking forward to their reunion. He sounded as if he didn’t care.

“Sure,” she said, nodding several times, trying to convince herself that he still cared.

“Yeah. I just…right now…”

“You need to take a step back,” she said, filling in the gap.

“Not from you. Just from…”

“Feeling so much?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I just need to see them right now.”

“You go. Drive safely. I love you.”

“I love you,” he said, but he didn’t sound as if he believed it, and the deadness in his tone made her want to cry.

When he hung up, she let the tears fall, even though they felt selfish, even though they felt like weakness. The tears fell for herself, and for him, too. For all he was dealing with. For this new bombshell dropped in his lap. His family couldn’t catch a damn break, and she hated that the tragedy in his past was tearing new fissures in his present.

A little later, after she’d dabbed her cheeks and dried her eyes, she let the reel of the last few weeks play, trying to understand the man. He’d been private and circumspect at first. When pushed, he’d become open and vulnerable. But what if the talking was more of the exception than the norm?

Had he returned to the man he was before?

Three and out. Over and done. Protect your heart. Don’t get close to anybody but your family.

Even then, family could stab you in the back. He’d learned the hard way.

Call her overdramatic. Call her a conclusion-leaper. Or call her a cool analyst of the situation.

That very morning, Ryan had left her a note saying he would come see her tonight. Because I can’t stay away from you, Sophie. I swear, I can’t.

She could live without seeing him tonight. She wasn’t seventeen. But what worried her was the complete 180-degree shift he’d made in ten hours. He’d left his house determined to find his way back to her that night, no matter what. But when everything changed, so did his desire for her. His family story had prevented him from getting close to her in the first place. His family background wasn’t going away. It was only becoming more complicated, with more players, more names, and more threads.

More time.

More space.

More moments to retreat.

Hunting for information, she sank down on a kitchen stool, and called her brother. “I know you can’t give me the details of the case, and I’m not asking for them, but I need to know—is this going to end anytime soon?”

John exhaled loudly. “Sophie, you know I don’t have an answer. Even if this were an open-and-shut case I wouldn’t have the answer. These things can go on forever. Oddly enough, this case was something of a rarity in the first place when his mother was arrested and tried in a matter of months the first time. Most cases go on for a long time, especially when they’re reopened, and involve gangs and crimes committed over the years.”

Years.

That word clung heavily to the air, like thick smog.

What would that be like? Every time there was a new wrinkle, would Ryan retreat? Would she always be the one who had to step closer to him? To offer the shoulder to lean on?

She’d offered it tonight, and he hadn’t taken it.

Would he ever want it or need it? And would she be satisfied if he always turned elsewhere for comfort? Compared to him she’d had an easy life. As he reeled over his mother’s guilt, here she was jetting off to Frankfurt to check out her new car, for Christ’s sake. But that was all the more reason why she wanted to be the supportive one—because she could. She could be here to hold his hand when he needed her. But he didn’t seem to want that.

To keep herself busy, she called Holden and met him for a drink at the Mirage.

“I have news,” he said, his eyes lighting up after he’d ordered his white wine.

“Do tell,” she said, glad to focus on something else.

He leaned in to whisper. “I met someone.”

She clapped twice. “Tell me everything. What’s he like?”

Holden wiggled his eyebrows. “Actually, he’s a she.”

“A she? Like she used to be a he?”

He laughed and shook his head. “No. I meant I’m seeing a woman.”

“You are?” He nodded, but the answer seemed so strange, even though this had always been a possibility. Somehow, it had been easier to think of him with men than with women.