Chapter 9

(***Rylan***)

After Rosalie called this morning from the airport, I called down to the security guard on duty at the gate to let them know I would have a visitor for a week. I ran around my house, doing the flight of the bumblebee, to clean my house, even though it was already clean. I also removed all the guns and knives I had hidden all over the house.

Except for the two guns and combat knife in my bedroom and bathroom. Those will be staying right where they are. If Rosalie snoops like I know she will, then I will tell her to mind her own business.

I am not close to her at all, so this will be a fun week.

Out of my three siblings, Rosalie is the one that I have never really tried to be close to. She is so much like our mother, and I am not. I am more like my father. I think that is why I get along better with my other two siblings.

His children. Although Juanita, my youngest sibling, is more like her mother than she is our father, that makes me like her more because she has guts and stands up for herself. It makes me laugh that I am more like my stepmother than my biological mother, who raised me.

Sometimes I wish that Eva was able to move past her hatred of my mother for my sake. We could have had a great relationship had she not let her grievances with the woman her husband cheated on her get in the way of how she treated me. She has changed in the last few years, almost being nice to me.

Almost.

The sound of a car pulling up outside makes me look up from the book I have been trying to read while waiting for Rosalie. I take a deep breath, then get up off the couch and walk to the front door to greet my sister.

I open the door and step out onto the front porch as she pays the cab driver, who is unloading her suitcase from the trunk. She looks tired and sad by the way her shoulders are hunched inward. Being here with me isn’t going to chase that sadness away, but I will try my best to make her stay comfortable.

Rosalie and I could be twins; we look so similar. The differences are in our eyes and skin tone. She gets her father’s brown eyes and our mother's pale complexion, while I get our mother’s blue eyes and my father’s complexion. Half-siblings are always entertaining to see who looks like what parent from which side of the different families.

My steps falter when she looks up at me. Her face is tear-stained, which isn’t a surprise considering the situation. What shocks me are the bruises on her face. It looks like someone used her face as a punching bag.

Pity for her situation now turns into anger.

That bastard hit her.

“It looks worse than it is,” she says in a meek voice as she reaches the porch stairs.

I look into her brown eyes, then take in every bruise on her face. “Grant did this to you? Does Mother know?”

“Yes to both.”

I take a deep breath, then step to the side of the door and motion her inside. I close and lock the door once I am inside, then lead her back to the guest room. Will he follow her here?

I lean on the door frame as she sits her suitcase on the end of the bed and then sits next to it. She looks so frail. It is causing all my protective instincts to come alive. I don’t know what her marriage is like, but no woman deserves to be cheated on and then beaten up.

“Does Grant know where you are?”

She looks up at me and shakes her head. That is a relief. The last thing I need is an abusive man coming to fetch his runaway wife.

“There are guns in this house. Will that bother you?”

"No, and it makes me happy knowing they are here and you know how to use them.” Then she shocks me even further with her next words. “Will you teach me how to use a gun and defend myself?”

There is no hesitation in my answer. “Yes. I will teach you some basic self-defense moves, and we can go to the gun range anytime you want.”

“I think I may just want to stay here tomorrow. Can we go after that if you have time after work?”

“We can go anytime during your stay. I have the rest of the week off, so I have the time. Let me show you around the house, then I will let you get some sleep.”

She gets up off the bed and then silently follows me around the house as I show her the bathroom she will be using, the kitchen, and my home gym. By the time we are done, she is visibly wilting from exhaustion. I give her an awkward one-armed hug, then leave her in her room to sleep.

My mind is racing as I lay down to sleep.

First, Aaron comes back from wherever he went, and I am so confused about where our relationship, or lack thereof, is headed. Then he comes to my house, gives me multiple orgasms, and leaves me flustered with not only his actions but also his parting words. Holy shit that man is so unnerving.

Now, my sister is here to escape her abusive husband. What am I to do with that? Be there for her while she cries. Tell her that everything will be alright. Or do I try to convince her to do the complete opposite of what I know our mother told her to do?

My mother more than likely told Rosalie to wait it out, that Grant would apologize, and that their marriage would go back to normal.

That is complete garbage.

If Rosalie asks me what she should do, I will be completely honest with her. She needs to leave his ass. I pray she presses charges, but knowing her, she probably won’t. If she takes a page out of our mother’s book, she will use the line: He was just angry, and after he calms down, it will all be alright.

Abusive men and women suck.

**********

The next morning, I was woken up by the smell of coffee. After taking a shower and brushing my teeth, I get dressed in a pair of black shorts and a dark blue t-shirt. I make my way into the kitchen and sit down at the counter after making myself a cup of coffee. Rosalie is cooking what looks like scrambled eggs.

I made a mental note to stop by the grocery store sometime today to restock my fridge.

“Is there anything that I don’t have or something particular that you want at the grocery store while you stay here?” I ask her after I take my first sip of coffee.

Rosalie turns around and slides a plate of scrambled eggs and a fork onto the counter in front of me, then grabs her own plate before sitting next to me. She doesn’t say anything at first, but it looks like she is thinking. I take a bite of the eggs and smile at her.

At least one of us can cook eggs without burning them.

“Thank you for letting me stay here, Rylan. I know it was last minute and that we are not that close, but this means a lot to me right now.”

Straight to the emotional part this morning. I won’t tell her that the only reason I agreed to this was because I have nothing else going on and was ordered to stay home from work by my boss. She will want to know why, and there is no way I am telling her what happened.

She will tell my mother, and that will be one more reason for her to pressure me into moving back to South Carolina. I would rather get hit by a bus and be in a coma than live in the same place as my mother and her 1950’s way of thinking. No way in hell.

“You are my sister, and I will do all I can to help you, Rosalie.”

She gives me a huge smile but winces after.

“Serious question, and you can tell me to butt out of your business if you don’t want to answer. Did you call the cops and press charges against Grant for what he did to you?”

She looks away from me.

I take a deep breath and then ask the next question. “Are you going to file for divorce, or are you going to go back to him like none of this happened?”

“That is what mom wants me to do. She thinks that Grant will beg for me to come back and say he is sorry, that the cheating didn’t mean anything, and he will never do it again.”

That sounds just like our hypocritical mother.

“Okay, that is what she believes. What do you believe? What do you want to do? Think for yourself here, Rosalie.”

To my utter horror, she bursts into tears and then runs to her room. That was not how I wanted this conversation to go. Anger causes me to walk to my room, grab my phone and keys, then head to the door. I yell to Rosalie that I am going to the store and will be back soon.

Once in the car, I drive to a nearby park, then dial my mother’s number. She answers on the third ring. The second she says hello, I launch into my tirade.

“Did you know he hit her? Do you really want her to stay with a cheating, abusive piece of human shit after all that?”

“Marriage vows are sacred, Rylan. They can get past this.”

I laugh loudly.

“Like you took your vows seriously with your first husband when you slept with a married man?”

I hear her sharp intake of breath and smirk, knowing I hit a sore spot.

“That was a long time ago. I was young and naive. This isn’t about me, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn't throw my past in my face.”

“Did you know he was hitting her?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“So it was more than once? Not just this time."

My mother sighs, then confirms what I thought. “Yes. He always apologized, bought her flowers, and promised to never do it again. So I told her to stand by her man.”

“A good mother would encourage her daughter to leave him. You failed her. I will do what you lack the ability to do.” With that, I end the call.

Was I too harsh with her? No, I don’t think I was. She needed to hear that. She has failed Rosalie in a big way.

Right before I start the car, my phone pings with a text message. I glance at it and see that it is from Aaron. I am too angry to deal with him right now, so I ignore it and start the car. I head straight to the grocery store because if I go home empty-handed, I will look silly.

I leave my phone in the car when I arrive at the store so that I can shop without interruption. An hour and a hundred and fifty dollars later, I leave the store with a trunk full of groceries, two bottles of wine, and a ton of chocolate. I may have gotten a little carried away in the candy and snack food section.

Considering what happened to me at the hospital and what my sister is dealing with, I think I did a good job not buying everything I saw that looked appealing.

Before I pull out of the parking spot, I check my phone for any missed calls or messages. There are two calls from my mother, one from my sister, one from my brother, and two from Aaron. Out of all the calls and texts, there is only one voicemail.

I already know what the ones from my mother and sister are about, and I will talk to Rosalie when I get home about it. I listen to the voicemail, it is from Andrew, and I smile. He just called to check up on me and told me that he didn’t tell our father about Heath.

Well, that is a blessing. My father would have already called me had Andrew said anything, and for that, I am grateful he didn’t. I can only deal with one dramatic parent at a time.

I read the text from Aaron and felt my cheeks heat.

Ry, I keep thinking about the way you taste. I want to make you come all over my face again soon. I want to hear you moan my name while I make you come undone. Come for me, Rylan.

I squeeze my thighs together as I remember how he made me feel. Holy shit, I want to feel more than just his tongue and fingers next time. Wait, what? Goodness, this man gets me so worked up despite my now-waiving resolve.

His second message makes me frown.

Ry, dinner has been moved to tonight instead of Friday. I hope you can come. My parents came in early, and I just want to get this shit over with and out of the way. Also, Quinn and Annora have a big announcement, and they will be telling us all then. Please come to dinner at my house tonight at seven.

Crap. I can’t leave Rosalie at home alone. Wait, I can just bring her with me. A night with friendly people and Aaron’s mother will do her some good. With that decision, I sent him a quick text, telling him that I would be there but that I was bringing a guest.

I hope the announcement Quinn and Annie are making is about the gender of their new baby. I am stoked to know if it is a boy or a girl. There is a gift in the works for their little family, but I need to know the gender first.

There is a smile on my face as I start the car and head home. That smile fades as I pull into my driveway and remember that I will probably have to face my very angry sister. I am surprised when she comes out of the house and calmly starts helping me unload the trunk and carry the bags into the house.

“I talked to our very hysterical mother while you were gone,” she tells me after we put all the food away and are sitting on the couch in the living room.

I nod my head and sigh. Here we go. It is time to face the music and own up to my actions.