Now, somebody beg, borrow, or steal me a muse so I can get the next part to her before I have to go back to work in August....
As usual, I don't own, didn't create, and am not making any profit by this little exercise with the characters of The OC. And they continue to act and talk like adults in this story, so it's not for the little kiddies, 'kay?
So here we go again-
Chapter 12
Ten minutes later they were settled comfortably on the family room couch with a carton of leftover moo-goo-gai-pan Ryan had warmed up, and the opening credits to ‘Over the Top’ rolling. But they were watching each other much more closely than the television screen. Ryan was glad he’d developed some skill with chopsticks, as his efforts to feed her left her giggling. Apparently he was still clumsy enough to be amusing, but thankfully not so much that she was wearing her snack.
He was thrilled to do anything that lifted that sad, weary look from her eyes.
He carefully kept his eyes above her chest. Her decision not to put on her bra left him with definitely mixed feelings. Tempting as it was to take that as an invitation, he figured tonight he’d better take it as a sign she trusted him. Her robe wasn’t very heavy, and he didn’t want to react to those sweet curves like a Neanderthal right now. It wasn’t what she needed. He felt that uncomfortable tightness in his chest again, a combination of tenderness and passion for the petite redhead, unlike any emotion he’d ever known. Yeah, he was horny, but this was all that and more. Unsurprisingly, his feelings included a healthy portion of fury at Caleb and Renee. Caleb Nichol doing something like this doesn’t surprise me. But your mom, Linds….it seemed like she loved you, a lot. How could they-
“Hey,” she whispered intently, and he realized he wasn’t paying attention again.
“Um….yeah?”
“Where’d you go? You’re just….staring.”
Embarrassed, he ducked his head, “Sorry. You’re….easy to look at.”
A sharp, playful slap to his bicep made him lift his eyes. By the blush rising to her cheeks, she was apparently embarrassed, too, but he couldn’t help but note she also seemed pleased. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself. But hey- my honor isn’t in danger or anything, is it?” she giggled flirtatiously, then bit her lip as though surprised at her boldness.
He considered her seriously, setting the carton down and putting his arm around her. “No,” he whispered gently. “Especially not tonight. But certainly not because I’m not tempted.”
Her eyes went liquid, and he feared more tears were on the horizon.
He breathed a sigh of relief at her response. He hadn’t noticed he was holding his breath.
“Ryan, everything you’ve done today….I don’t know where to begin thanking you.” But the look in her eyes- she seems to be saying so much more than that, he realized with an increasingly familiar pressure around his heart.
“You don’t have to thank me, remember? Besides, I can’t help wanting to be sure you’re okay. I….” and the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them long enough to consider the consequences, “I’ve really fallen for you, Lindsay.”
Crap! What have I done? He kicked himself mentally. It would be easy for her to feel pressured by that statement and that’s not what he wanted. Sure, it was true, but it’s not what he meant to say, at least not right now. Shit. I wanted more time to get used to the idea myself. Words! They’re nothing but trouble and confusion. She doesn’t need this; she doesn’t need any more emotions to deal with tonight.
Hell, I don't, either, even if it's the truth. I'm on freakin' overload, here. Emphasis on 'freaking'.
His heart fell as her hand went to her mouth and big tears spilled onto her cheeks. As he opened his mouth to apologize, though, she whispered back, “Good. Because I really didn’t want to be feeling like this if you didn’t, too.”
Stunned, initially all he could do was stare at that smiling, joyfully tear-streaked face and try to accept that he’d heard correctly. But when she reached her hand up to his neck and tugged him gently toward her, he knew exactly what to do. It wasn’t a huge lip-lock, but a soft, loving caress, as though they were sealing an agreement.
Maybe we are.
When he pulled back, not wanting to get himself going- any more than I already am- she was grinning at him as she brushed the tears from her cheeks. When he grabbed a napkin from the coffee table and tried to help, she giggled softly even as she cried harder. “Sorry! I’m sorry,” she laughed breathlessly, “It’s been such a strange day, but I’ve been feeling like this for a while, and you’ve been so sweet, but it didn’t seem like the right time to say anything-” she gasped against his lips as he gently but firmly silenced her.
This kiss heated rapidly. His arm around her shoulder tightened, pulling her easily to his chest. He moaned softly into her mouth and permitted his other arm to encircle her, his hand finding its way naturally into her sensuously silken hair. She shifted even closer to him, her hand cupping the side of his face. He shivered as the soft globes of her breasts pressed against him. He could feel her nipples hardening even through the multiple layers of cotton. The sensation was killing him. He wanted nothing more than to rip their t-shirts aside and thoroughly explore the landscape of her smooth bare skin. Very, very thoroughly.
A full minute later, with an extreme effort of will, he pulled back and panted, “But it must be the right time, because all of a sudden I couldn’t keep myself from telling you.” A grin lit his face. "And I don't talk much. Especially about feelings."
She nodded, smiling tremulously in response. Still breathing quickly and unsteadily, they searched each others' eyes for timeless moments, reading the joy and hope within their passion.
Pulses finally beginning to return to a normal rhythm, in unspoken agreement they both pulled back, settling comfortably into the couch and at least outwardly appearing to watch the movie. It wouldn’t do to have Kirsten find them seriously making out on her couch, especially on the same day she found out Lindsay was her sister.
It wasn't long before Ryan felt Lindsay’s breathing steady and slow. In her sleep she snuggled further into the crook of his arm, turning toward him slightly. He rolled his eyes and breathed deeply, determinedly ignoring the soft curves pressing against his side.
On the second day of Chrismukkah
As he took in the tableau on the family room couch,
He had to smile. They looked sweet, just a couple of exhausted kids. Whatever had led to them meeting up during the night, he gave Ryan credit for respecting the ‘no bedroom’ decree. But since Kirsten still wasn’t sure about seeing her over breakfast, he certainly didn’t want her meeting Lindsay curled up next to Ryan in her bathrobe.
He moved closer, considering how to wake Ryan without startling him, finally stopping next to the couch and whispering, “Kid- hey! Rise and shine.”
Ryan’s eyes opened instantly, scanning the room warily.
Ryan looked down at the sleeping girl snuggled against him then raised his eyes to
“Not up yet,”
Gesturing at Lindsay with his free hand, Ryan breathed, “Couldn’t sleep.”
Sandy
As
“Mmm-ph!” she muttered, burrowing her head more deeply against him.
“Hey,” he murmured, grinning delightedly at how comfortable she was….and how good it felt to wake up holding her. “Sleeping Beauty….we need to get you back to your palace.”
Suddenly Lindsay sat bolt upright next to him, her eyes wild and panicked. “OhmyGod!" Her voice was soft but shaking with intensity. "Oh God, where’s Kirsten? I shouldn’t be in here, she’ll never-”
“Shhh….” His eyes wide with caring, he put a gentle fingertip to her lips as he said in the most reassuring tone he could muster, “Everything’s fine. It’s still early.”
She stared deeply into those sincere eyes, trying to believe and share his calm confidence, finally sinking back against him, relieved. Your embrace, even your scent is reassuring. You….center me. How can you have become so familiar in such a short time? And now that I have to wonder how much I can really trust my mom….feeling sick, Lindsay cut that thought short and focused on the security Ryan had come to embody in the past twenty-four chaotic hours. She let herself enjoy what was becoming a favorite pastime, rubbing her hand slowly back and forth across the soft cotton of his t-shirt, appreciating the living warmth of him underneath. She found herself wishing the light had been better out at the poolhouse last night. The strong, solid topography of his chest and shoulders had been beckoning her for some time. She really had to get this boy’s shirt off when she could actually see him….maybe swimming….
Suddenly she realized she couldn’t afford to indulge right now, either in letting him hold and comfort her, or in speculating about his appearance. We’re at Ryan’s house, which means Kirsten’s house, and I need to stay off her radar for a little longer. At least till I’m dressed. Decisively she tightened the belt of her robe and stood, a bit unsteadily thanks to sleeping with her knees curled underneath her for hours. But as nervous as she was at the prospect of running into Kirsten, as full memory of last night surfaced, she couldn’t help but turn back to Ryan for a moment.
“Last night….” she started, trailing to silence, embarrassed at his open, steady regard. What his eyes seemed to be saying was utterly derailing any logical train of thought. She blinked and began again, “Last night was wonderful. You were wonderful, taking such good care of me.
"Just....I'm sorry about being such a basket case. Having all this....baggage....surface at the holidays. You shouldn't have to-”
At that he stood, his arms loosely encircling her waist. She marveled at how natural and comfortable it felt. I love you, Ryan….
He held her gaze, whispering intently, "Someone told me recently that struggling had made me stronger. Special. And that she didn't mind my baggage, not even helping me with it sometimes. Why would I mind helping her grow even more special than she already is?”
Lindsay’s eyes filled. “As crazy as everything is, why do I feel like the luckiest girl on earth?”
Ryan didn’t speak, but merely tilted his head and shrugged those handsome shoulders. His eyes and that tiny half smile were saying volumes, but she got goose bumps all over when he whispered thickly, “I don’t usually have very good luck, but lately- maybe that’s changing.”
As one they remembered that it would be best if pajama-clad Lindsay was in the poolhouse, rather than embracing Ryan in the family room. “Go on,” he whispered. “I’m gonna wash up, get dressed-” he paused, blushing at how that sounded. “Anyway. I’ll meet you out at the poolhouse in a little while? If you don’t feel like coming inside on your own?”
She nodded, smiling gratefully.
“Okay,” he breathed. He couldn’t resist kissing her just one more time.
-----
Across town, Renee Wheeler sat at the antique oak table in her kitchen, one hand wrapped around the warmth of her coffee cup. Sleep had not come easily, nor lasted long. But she wasn’t tired as much as she was heartsick.
Lindsay was already well on the way to no longer being her little girl. But this news coming out, at this time in their relationship….she could only hope that it wouldn’t inflame her daughter’s stubborn streak. Such a strong-willed young woman, about to blossom into independent adulthood, could so easily become one reacting blindly out of anger and hurt. Renee was uncomfortably well aware how much Lindsay’s reactions wounded her personally. But she was much more worried about how Lindsay, unthinking, might hurt herself.
Not literally physically, of course. Her daughter was better balanced than that. But she might well make ill-considered decisions in the midst of her anger. The damage would be real, no matter how justified Lindsay's feelings. Renee recalled how Lindsay had refused to meet her eyes most of the previous day, and especially from Ryan’s protective embrace yesterday evening. At the thought of her daughter's fledgling relationship with her handsome lab partner, Renee inevitably remembered Lindsay's tired, frustrated outburst her first day at Harbor, at this very table. She had wondered at the time if her daughter had been entirely fair to the boy who'd spilled his coffee, even if he was a 'bubble-headed water polo player'. She smiled sadly at the memory of Lindsay's creative labels, for that had been only one of many derogatory descriptions Lindsay had used for the object of her fury. In the following weeks, as Renee had subtly guided her daughter to consider all the possibilities, with occasional mild questions about her difficulties with her lab partner, Lindsay had gradually realized she might have overreacted.
Renee's smile faded. Those problems seemed so simple now.
Despite all the traditional assumptions about red hair and fiery temper, Renee and Lindsay were very different. Sometimes Renee had to wonder how much of that steely will and quick anger had come to Lindsay from her father. Renee herself tended to be quiet and retiring, using her own considerable intelligence in support rather than leadership roles. And no matter how intense her feelings, her desire for privacy almost always kept her from making public outbursts. Lindsay, on the other hand, had a quick and furious anger, freely- sometimes too openly, in Renee’s opinion- expressed. But once things were out in the open, Lindsay quickly moved on and forgave. Sometimes that quick temper had actually helped develop Lindsay's character, Renee reflected; her daughter had learned rather early in life to own up when she was wrong. With her temper, she needed the 'people skills' to make amends.
That didn't solve the problem that sometimes the damage was already done, and there was no going back. Renee sighed. And now there may be no going back from the damage I've done. It's going to take her a lot of time before she's open to my guidance, or even to sharing with me. I must be patient, and clearly separate my need for her forgiveness from her readiness to give it.
And I can only hope that my assessment of Ryan’s integrity is correct, because regardless of my intentions, I've pretty much forced Lindsay into his arms. The two young people obviously had already liked and trusted each other a lot, but she had to acknowledge that Ryan Atwood probably held more of her daughter’s trust than anyone on earth right now. His opinion was going to mean a lot in the near future.
Her eyes filled, though she knew she didn’t deserve pity, not even self-pity. She’d created this situation. She could have stood up to Caleb from the first, not worried so much about financial security for Lindsay’s future and education. Lindsay would have done just fine with scholarships and student loans, as Renee herself had.
Was I looking for vengeance in the face of his callous insistence that I abort her? Having his baby gave me more power in that situation than any other single thing....though I was motivated by so much more than power. Power; now that was Caleb's specialty.
Straightforward honesty. Why had that seemed so hard at the time? It would have solved so much. Prevented so much....
The fingers of her free hand traced the initials ‘L.W.G.’, scrawled into the tabletop, over and over. She’d been able to clean out most of the pencil lead, but never got around to getting the indentations filled and refinished. Eventually they had become a keepsake of sorts, part of their small family’s history.
She lost herself in memories....
.....Her arms full of grocery bags, she entered the kitchen. Lindsay was kneeling on the kitchen chair, that dear little head with its long red braids bent studiously over her work. Then she saw that her barely four-year-old daughter had abandoned her paper and was tracing something with her pencil, again and again, gouging deeply into the wood. “Lindsay Wheeler
Her tone didn’t appear to bother the child a bit. With a sunny smile, she looked up and announced, “Yes, Mummy! That’s me, ELLLL, Wubble-YEW, GEE. My ‘nishulls. At my pwace at the table. All by myseff!”
Renee could seldom resist that smile. Setting down the final load of groceries, she tried to keep her tone severe as she admonished, “But Lindsay, ‘Miss L-W-G’, you were supposed to be writing and drawing on the paper while I unloaded the car.”
The tiny redhead’s smile faded and her lower lip trembled.
Renee waited, cocking her head questioningly. Lindsay knew better. Unauthorized artwork and writing had happened enough that they’d gone over this rule many times. Not that it seemed to have much effect on her daughter’s exuberant desire to express herself whenever and however the notion struck.
“S-sorry, Mom,” she sniffed quietly, “Fergot.”
As obviously above average as her child’s intelligence was, Renee tried never to forget that her emotions and impulsivity were still pretty much on-target for her age. “Okay,” she sighed with a small, forgiving smile. “But you must keep working to remember, all right?”
Lindsay had nodded vigorously, chewing her lower lip as she dropped her pencil. She launched herself off the chair and ran to her mother. “Wuv you, Mummy. I’ll try, ‘kay?”
Renee had reached down and loosened the child’s enthusiastic embrace of her legs, scooping her up and breathing in the fresh baby-shampoo scent of her hair as she whispered, “Yes, Lindsay, it’s okay. I love you, too.”
.....The beeping of the alarm clock in her bedroom brought Renee abruptly back to the present. I must have forgotten to turn it off when I got up early….
She was surprised to find her face wet with tears. I hope I haven’t lost you entirely, baby….
TBC
- Location:porch, watching the thunderstorm
- Mood:
contemplative - Music:thunderclaps and pitter-patter
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Comments
No, I didn't peek. Swear- on Dawn of the Living Dead's bleached head.
Thanks?
*you know I'm such a comment slut that I'll be thrilled with whatever you give me*
Uh- You're welcome?
I admit that I have nada self-control, but I'm trying. Please add that to the "swear" list.
I just can't figure how you manage at all on so little sleep.
I actually went to bed last night. Considering I hadn't the two previous nights, what an accomplishment. I had visions of falling asleep- or falling over- in court (although it might be more embarrassing at the gym), so I just crashed for a few hours finally. I wanted to be able to operate heavy machinery and not hallucinate- in a bad way.
lovely take on Ryan = man of action, but you gave him sweet words too.
or- uh-oh! Given the length of our comments, I might have a bit of an 'alcohol problem'....
How about a chocolate connoisseur? Cheese? Anything oral? Regardless, I there might be that 12-step issue due to length. Not too healthy, huh?
Ryan and Lindsay growing closer? Is a joy for me to write. I wish they'd kept her around longer, or brought her back. But they didn't, so this will have to do! Thanks for your comment.
I really enjoyed this chapter and this whole story.
*will comment on the actual merits of each chapter once done flailing*
And continuing? Don't worry, it's slowing down a little, but I don't think I *can* stop.