House of V (Unraveled Series) Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Raen Smith
you know.
I miss you. I feel like I’ve
been missing you my whole life. I hope that can change one day. It’s only two
days short of being a year since I saw you last.
Much love,
D
“So that’s it?” Ryan asked as the
bartender appeared with two opened bottles of Ringnes .
The beats of the music settled into
a methodic buzz as I set down my empty bottle and slid it across the bar before
reaching out to grab the second. The cool glass soaked into my skin as my
fingers fiddled with the red and gold label. The first beer was registering in
my bloodstream, and I hesitated before I brought the second bottle to my lips.
“That’s it. That’s what she wrote
in the first email,” I replied, realizing that I really should have left
without asking. I didn’t need his permission, and I definitely didn’t need him
to try to talk me out of it. Not that it would work or anything.
“The first email? What do you want me
to say? It’s not overly compelling.”
“I know. She sent me another.” I
twirled the bottle in my hands. The second email had convinced me to go back to
Wisconsin.
“And?” Ryan lifted his eyebrows, looking for the information I was purposely
withholding.
“More compelling,” I answered
before taking a hard swallow. I should slow down, but I didn’t want to. I knew
the conversation wasn’t going to end well.
“Well, I’m not your keeper,” Ryan
replied, tightening his grip on his bottle. His forearm flexed just as it had
earlier today on the docks. Damn, that little movement made me so uneasy. I
averted my eyes. “But how important could it be that you are willing to risk it
all?”
“Well…” My voice trailed off
despite my deep-seeded conviction to do otherwise.
“I mean, everything. Every single moment that we have fought for over
the last year. All of that could be gone, just like that. The risk that I took. That we took. You’re putting me on
the line. I knew Holston was worth it, but this? I just don’t - ” Ryan stopped mid-sentence as a man in a cowboy hat sat
down in the seat next to him.
The bartender slid the cowboy a
beer before he could even mutter his order. The two began talking feverishly in
Norwegian, but my ear perked at the sound of the cowboy’s accent. His Norwegian
was just a tad slower, his accent a hint off. I eyed the woven straw hat that
sat lightly on top of his head, red flannel shirt, and blue jeans, then all the
way down to his tapping cowboy boots on the stool.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” I
whispered, sucking another draw from the bottle. American. The cowboy was American.
My thoughts went back to Sister
Josephine. Ryan couldn’t possibly ever understand the importance of this woman
in my life as a child. My childhood had been filled with random comings and
goings of babysitters that never really stuck. I remembered when I was
eight-years-old, I had spent every single night alone while Holston built his
empire. I now wondered which “empire” he was building. A woman who didn’t speak
a lick of English would stop by to make me food. I don’t even remember her
name. For all I knew, she didn’t have one. She would maybe stay for thirty
minutes and then she was gone. I brushed my teeth alone. Put on my pajamas
alone. Locked the door alone. Then
went to bed alone. So the woman that showed me affection on Sundays,
naturally, was the woman I remembered the most, and the woman that needed my
help now.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have,” Ryan
muttered, tipping the bottle back until he slammed it back on the counter
empty. “This is crazy. You are fucking crazy.
I knew you were, but to go back? I can’t - ”
“You don’t have to,” I said as an
alarm signaled in my body. The slow burn had stopped festering and a new swell
of fury coursed through my veins. A year ago, I wouldn’t have even thought
twice about it. I went, with or without his permission. Going at it alone was
faster, easier. I could get in and out without a
I miss you. I feel like I’ve
been missing you my whole life. I hope that can change one day. It’s only two
days short of being a year since I saw you last.
Much love,
D
“So that’s it?” Ryan asked as the
bartender appeared with two opened bottles of Ringnes .
The beats of the music settled into
a methodic buzz as I set down my empty bottle and slid it across the bar before
reaching out to grab the second. The cool glass soaked into my skin as my
fingers fiddled with the red and gold label. The first beer was registering in
my bloodstream, and I hesitated before I brought the second bottle to my lips.
“That’s it. That’s what she wrote
in the first email,” I replied, realizing that I really should have left
without asking. I didn’t need his permission, and I definitely didn’t need him
to try to talk me out of it. Not that it would work or anything.
“The first email? What do you want me
to say? It’s not overly compelling.”
“I know. She sent me another.” I
twirled the bottle in my hands. The second email had convinced me to go back to
Wisconsin.
“And?” Ryan lifted his eyebrows, looking for the information I was purposely
withholding.
“More compelling,” I answered
before taking a hard swallow. I should slow down, but I didn’t want to. I knew
the conversation wasn’t going to end well.
“Well, I’m not your keeper,” Ryan
replied, tightening his grip on his bottle. His forearm flexed just as it had
earlier today on the docks. Damn, that little movement made me so uneasy. I
averted my eyes. “But how important could it be that you are willing to risk it
all?”
“Well…” My voice trailed off
despite my deep-seeded conviction to do otherwise.
“I mean, everything. Every single moment that we have fought for over
the last year. All of that could be gone, just like that. The risk that I took. That we took. You’re putting me on
the line. I knew Holston was worth it, but this? I just don’t - ” Ryan stopped mid-sentence as a man in a cowboy hat sat
down in the seat next to him.
The bartender slid the cowboy a
beer before he could even mutter his order. The two began talking feverishly in
Norwegian, but my ear perked at the sound of the cowboy’s accent. His Norwegian
was just a tad slower, his accent a hint off. I eyed the woven straw hat that
sat lightly on top of his head, red flannel shirt, and blue jeans, then all the
way down to his tapping cowboy boots on the stool.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” I
whispered, sucking another draw from the bottle. American. The cowboy was American.
My thoughts went back to Sister
Josephine. Ryan couldn’t possibly ever understand the importance of this woman
in my life as a child. My childhood had been filled with random comings and
goings of babysitters that never really stuck. I remembered when I was
eight-years-old, I had spent every single night alone while Holston built his
empire. I now wondered which “empire” he was building. A woman who didn’t speak
a lick of English would stop by to make me food. I don’t even remember her
name. For all I knew, she didn’t have one. She would maybe stay for thirty
minutes and then she was gone. I brushed my teeth alone. Put on my pajamas
alone. Locked the door alone. Then
went to bed alone. So the woman that showed me affection on Sundays,
naturally, was the woman I remembered the most, and the woman that needed my
help now.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have,” Ryan
muttered, tipping the bottle back until he slammed it back on the counter
empty. “This is crazy. You are fucking crazy.
I knew you were, but to go back? I can’t - ”
“You don’t have to,” I said as an
alarm signaled in my body. The slow burn had stopped festering and a new swell
of fury coursed through my veins. A year ago, I wouldn’t have even thought
twice about it. I went, with or without his permission. Going at it alone was
faster, easier. I could get in and out without a