Archer's Voice (A Sign of Love Novel)(120)

Then Fin stumbled into his life, and he almost lost focus. It had been the first day of the school year. Ryan and his friends were congregated in front of the school, leaning against the red brick building or sitting by the top of the stairs, unwilling to give up their last moments of freedom by going inside.
A young girl, blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders in messy waves, approached the stairs and caught Ryan’s eye. Having never seen her before, he watched curiously. Her steps were awkward, timid even. His eyes fell to her hands. The knuckles were white where they gripped the shoulder straps of her bag. She took the first step on the stairs, stumbled over her shoelace, and fell to her knees.
Teasing laughter rang out behind him as her hands planted hard on the steps to catch her fall. She lifted her head, wide green eyes looking right at him. His chest tightened at the sweet vulnerability in her face. Something about her had him wanting to reach out and hide her behind his back, like the world would have to get through him before anything could touch her.
“Shut up,” Ryan growled over his shoulder to his friends and made his way down the stairs to help her.
Reaching the second step from the bottom, he held out a hand, palm up, and waited. Her eyes moved from Ryan’s face to his hand before reaching out and taking it in hers. Her hand was tiny, disappearing when his fingers closed around it.
“Th-thank you,” she stammered as he helped her to her feet.
“Maybe you should keep your shoelaces tied in the future,” he told her sharply, hiding his confusion behind a frown. The immediate attachment he felt left him unsettled.
“Fin!” The girl turned and around the corner came a boy who looked just like her, except taller. His eyes fell on their joined hands, his brows drawn. “What’s going on?” Ryan let go hastily as the blond boy turned his focus on him. “Who the hell are you?”
Ryan folded his arms as he stepped back, distancing himself from the both of them. “I was just helping her. She fell up the stairs.”
“Seriously?” The boy rolled his eyes and nudged her shoulder. “School hasn’t even started yet. Are you okay?”
“Sorry,” she mumbled, averting her face. A lock of hair fell into her eyes, and Ryan watched as she tucked it behind her ear, revealing her flushed cheeks.
“Thanks, dude,” he said. “I’m Jake.” He jerked his thumb at the younger girl. “This is my sister Finlay.”
“You’re new?”
“Yup. Just moved here from Sydney.”
Ryan nodded. “I’m Ryan.”
The school bell rang, shrilling its warning to get inside. Not wishing to make new friends, Ryan turned and started up the stairs, anxious to leave the pair.
Jake quickly fell into step beside him, already appearing comfortable in Ryan’s company. Glancing sideways at Ryan, he asked, “What grade are you in?”
“Five,” Ryan replied curtly, picking up the pace. Jake kept up alongside him, and feeling stupid for being rude, Ryan asked, “You?”
Jake grinned. “Same. Fin here…” he nodded at where she followed quietly behind the two of them “…starts grade three.”
Loud and quick to laugh, Jake was hard to ignore. They became fast friends before Ryan even realised it was happening. When they talked about the future, he found himself trusting Jake enough to talk about his dream. Impressed and excited, Jake shared it with him—both of them making a vow to one day join the Army together.
The beatings didn’t go away though, and there was only so much you could hide from your best friend. A game of basketball in the driveway revealed a set of bruised ribs when they were twelve. Jake had a hand shoved in Ryan’s chest as he leaped for the basket. Doing his best to block the shot, Ryan shoved back and they both went crashing to the ground. Jake’s elbow caught him hard, and Ryan curled into a ball, stifling the cry of pain.
“Dude, what the f*ck?”
His stomach rolling, Ryan blinked, focusing on Jake’s face peering down at him.
“You okay?”
Frowning, Jake’s eyes fell to where Ryan cradled his ribs, as though trying to keep the pain from getting loose. Grabbing the hem of Ryan’s shirt, he shoved it upwards and his eyes went wide.
“You can’t say anything,” Ryan whispered, not looking at him.
“Who did this?”
They sat there in the driveway, the sun fading warmly in the humid afternoon as Ryan told Jake what happened to his family. He kept it brief, holding onto the basketball and twirling it in his hands as he spoke.
From that day on, Ryan spent most of his time at the Tanners’. Their home in Cottesloe became his refuge—the one place he never felt worthless, only welcome … and safe. Ryan would stay over often. While everyone slept, he could let the hurt he hid so well rise to the surface. The tears he kept back would spill over, falling silently down his face and soaking the pillow.