Of the Trees(78)

“Nothing,” he answered, shrugging.

“Not even Jon?” she asked. He scowled. “Ryan, he’s your best friend, you can’t avoid him forever.”

“Aren’t you still pissed at him?” Ryan asked.

“Well, I’m not exactly thrilled about what he did, but—”

“I don’t see how you can defend him. He wasn’t doing you any favors.” Ryan was quiet for a moment, obviously trying to sort his thoughts. When he did speak again, Cassie cringed at the words.

“Who was he?”

The question, tentative and quiet, hung in the air between them. She swallowed reflectively, her breath releasing in a gentle sigh. She knew he’d ask eventually, how could he not? She was surprised it had taken this long, actually. But that didn’t mean she wanted to answer.

Cassie didn’t want to have to admit to the reality of that night, that she didn’t know who he was, or even worse, what he was. She cringed at the thought that she hadn’t even known his name at the time, remembering how uncomfortable he made her feel, with all his staring and groping. She didn’t even like him, and yet she had allowed him to run his hands all over her, caress her in ways she’d never allowed anyone before. She didn’t want to confess to the intensity of the feeling, the overwhelming surge of heat like drunkenness that had overcome her. Even now, she couldn’t fully explain it to herself, and explaining it to Ryan seemed well beyond her grasp.

His pause, even his breath coming slow and quiet, grew more pronounced. He cleared his throat, shifting in the driver’s seat. “You don’t have to … never mind.”

“No, I’m sorry,” she broke in. He fell silent immediately. And maybe it was that, his willingness to just let it go, even though it obviously bothered him, that made up her mind. “He was … just some guy. A friend of Laney’s boyfriend. I just met him that night.”

The words came out stilted and forced. Saying Laney’s name pierced her like a lance to the chest. Cassie paused, and the silence swelled, uncomfortable. She snuck a look at him out of the corner of her eye. His jaw was gritted, and his shoulders pulled tight, but he was quiet, waiting her out. She took a quick breath and went on.

“I didn’t mean—” Cassie broke off because no, that’s not right. It wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t planned, but it had happened. She had to own that. “I’m sorry it happened. I was … confused, kinda ambushed. I didn’t see it coming.”

That was closer to the truth, though still not complete. She struggled to find the words, find a way to explain it so he would understand. “The way it was there, it was weird. Like something came over us all. And then this guy, I turned, and he was literally just there. He pushed me back and then … He was there, just everywhere.”

His silence was starting to scare her, and she inched over a bit, closer to him. “Ryan, I’m so sorry. I know we never said anything, but I wish I hadn’t done that. I would take it back a million times over.”

Cassie stopped then, waiting him out. A nervous spiral was working its way through her chest, worming its way into her gut. She felt her insides twisting. She and Ryan had just gotten back onto solid ground, just found their way back together, to a level of comfort they both enjoyed. She felt as though she were out on a ledge now, pushed there by her own stupid actions and stupid words. She’d dangle there until he spoke, reassuring her that she was forgiven, joke lightly to let her know he wasn’t bothered, something, anything to end the torturous route her intestines were choosing.

When Ryan did speak, it caused a sigh of relief to escape Cassie’s lips. His words were carefully weighed and deliberate. “I should have been there,” he said, his words a soft whisper in the night. Cassie shook her head.

“Your hand … ”

“If I had been there,” he said, ignoring her, “would it have happened?”

“Maybe,” Cassie answered, a nervous thrill running through her as she licked her lips. “But not with him.”

The silence hung, heavy and loaded. Cassie kept her gaze on his face, watched the minuscule widening of his eyes and noted the shift in his thigh when he pressed his foot to the brake. The car slowed to the side of the road. He threw it in park. They were surrounded by nothingness, fields and trees scattered about in the moonlight. Ryan cut the ignition and turned toward her, catching her face in his hands. He kissed her. The pressure of his lips was warm, gentle, but underneath that was a pressing insistence; an agreement that yes, it would have been him, it should have been him, and that no one else was going to get the opportunity for quite some time.

The soft fervor of his kiss captivated her and for a long moment, the night around them stilled. He was so unlike Aidan, no hands grabbing at her, no teeth crashing against hers, her head felt woozy but she was grounded, her mind was her own. They moved together seamlessly. She leaned further into him, her seatbelt cutting into her shoulder. A couple of cars sped by and rocked their little space and when he moved over her, the tip of his nose grazed her cheek. She smiled against his lips.

“What?” he breathed, catching her eye.

“Your nose is cold,” she murmured, pecking his lower lip. He grinned.

“So’s yours,” he said, rubbing the tip of his nose along hers. She laughed, and he pulled back.