More Than Words: Kissed By A Muse #3 (6 page)

‘That’s why you left me this morning?’ he asked, looking stricken. ‘Because of my fucking dreams?’

‘To protect myself,’ Leigh affirmed, and then a car tooted and she looked up and saw a late-model BMW slow to a halt beside them. ‘Like I’m doing right now- by going out with Bruce and getting some distance from you.’

The door to the café opened and Isabelle stuck her head out. ‘Hey Ryan… Kathryn and I are going to head off now. You keen to come along still?’ She winked at him. ‘I swear, you won’t regret it!’

Leigh’s muscles coiled around her jealousy so violently that it pushed bile into her throat.

‘Um yeah… give me a few minutes, kay?’ Ryan replied, not tearing his eyes off Leigh.

‘Take as long as you need beautiful… we’ll be waiting.’ Over Ryan’s shoulder, Isabelle winked at Leigh and then shut the door, and Leigh wanted to burst into tears.

Argh! He’s going home with them! Oh my god! And it’s all my fault!

‘You’re looking a little green there, honeybee,’ Ryan taunted her, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip. ‘But I wonder, are you jealous because they get me, or because I get more time with your precious boyfriend-creator?’

Leigh hoisted her bag on her shoulder. ‘Well, you may as well get something out of this little adventure, right? You can bet your ass that you’re not going to get laid with me, so you may as well go have a threesome amongst a bunch of vintage guitars!’

Ryan shot Bruce a hateful look through the windscreen and then slid it to her. ‘If she’d said that I was her muse and not a coincidence, would you care enough to stop me?’

It was like being punched in the stomach. ‘If I’d slept with you last night, would you give a flying fuck who I spent time with today?’

Ryan’s face clouded over. ‘Go, Leigh- before I say something we’ll both regret.’

Leigh tore her face from hers, hearing him beg for his ‘baby’ to wait for him again and whispered: ‘Too late.’ But the traffic absorbed her words without even slightly alleviating the pain.

Ryan

Ryan didn’t have a shot in trying to cover up his heartbreak when he walked back into the café, but Kathryn was on her computer when he made it back to their table, and didn’t look up before saying:

‘I was just remembering the few reviews I’ve gotten over the past six months about the book, that mention knowing a guy just like Ryan and thought… what if one of them actually knows you?’ She leaned closer to her computer. ‘I mean, it’s a small world, isn’t it? I’m checking the Aussie amazon site first…. Figured it would increase the odds of finding an old neighbor of yours or whatever…’

‘Oh,’ Ryan wiped at his wet eyes and prayed that his voice wouldn’t break and make him look like a big pussy. ‘Thanks…but you really don’t have to do that.’

‘I want to. I feel awful, knowing that you’ve been hoping for days that I’d be able to breech the whole amnesia shield and then going away empty-handed.’

Ryan wanted to admit that the only loss he was feeling was the loss of Leigh’s smile, but he swallowed the words down and lifted his coffee cup to drain it instead. ‘Mmm…’

She’s not into me- she was pretending all along. You can’t lose what you never have and she’s right- you can’t blame her for putting up a shield when you’ve got some bullshit true love shield between your heart and the rest of the world… but if she doesn’t like me for me, then why do my dreams even bug her?

Isabelle had been putting her phone and keys away in her bag, but now she looked up at Ryan with a knowing smile. ‘You hanging in there, buddy?’

He grimaced at her. ‘The honeybee stings a lot harder than you’d think…’ he swallowed the last of his coffee and put the cup down. ‘And no, I’m not all right, so if it’s okay with you guys, I’ll take a pass on the guitar collection today. I sort of want to go home and drink a bottle of Jack and pray there’s an antidote to her venom at the bottom of it.’

And then track down Leigh and Bruce, kill him and duct-tape her to my bed until she loves THIS slightly kinky Ryan! Fuck? Have I ruined every shot I had? Did I ever have one?

Isabelle smiled knowingly. ‘I figured as much.’

‘You did?’

Isabelle nodded, tapping lip-gloss onto her already perfect mouth. ‘I didn’t think you’d come back with us, but I can guarantee you that she won’t be able to breathe past her jealousy until you’re in her sights again…’

Ryan’s mouth fell open. ‘You yelled that out to make her jealous?’

‘Of course. I’m a writer’s muse, sweet Ryan- I know what makes women tick or, in this case, twitch.’ She danced her eyebrows for him. ‘You can thank me later, when she ends her date twenty minutes into it to hunt you down and check you over for lipstick on the collar.’

Ryan gaped at her while Kathryn chuckled. ‘You are truly evil, Miss Isabelle. If you’re twisted plots didn’t inspire me so, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing that you’re under the same roof as me!’

‘You think she’s jealous?’ Ryan repeated. ‘For real?’

‘She’s in love with you.’ Kathryn looked up them and smiled warmly. ‘Madly, deeply, unconditionally-didn’t-take-her-eyes-off-you-hashtag-lost-to-the-world-obsessed.’

‘No she’s not,’ Ryan scowled at her. ‘She just came out and admitted that she’s into the fantasy- it’s your Ryan she wants.’

‘You mean, the guy she swears you’re exactly like?’ Isabelle demanded gently.

Ryan shook his head. ‘There are a few differences...’

‘Not that I can see. And did you just refer to her as ‘Honeybee’?’ Kathryn asked, and Ryan nodded. ‘Why?’

‘That’s her blog name or whatever.’

A radiant smile slid across Kathryn’s face, and she turned it to Isabelle. ‘Do you remember that review I got a few weeks after the book came out? The one I printed and framed?’

Isabelle nodded, sliding her arms into her jacket. ‘Yeah… why?’

‘It was written by an Aussie reviewer- one who goes by the name ‘Honeybee’ on Amazon.’ She turned her computer so Ryan could read the screen. ‘Read this, and tell me if you recognize either of you in these words, okay?’

Ryan knelt before the screen. ‘One hundred and forty-eight people found this review helpful?’ he recited, stunned.

‘It was my first, best review and has remained the top rated one- even on the international sites.’ Kathryn chuckled. ‘I wish I’d known who she was while she was still here- I owe so much of my success to that woman! Not only did she get people interested, but she writes beautifully too- I’ve actually been quite jealous of her eloquence this whole time.’

‘Yeah, she beat out that awful chick with the one-star rating and the potty mouth, thank god…’ Isabelle muttered, but Ryan barely heard her- the title above the review ‘Honey to the bee, that’s Ryan for me’ had him riveted.

Oh my god… this is her! The mother reference! The honeybee thing… and that’s me, isn’t it?

As Ryan read, he felt his pulse quicken and his heart swell to three times its size and by the time he was finished, actual tears were rolling down his face. When he was done, he rocked back on his haunches, cupped his head in his hands and gaped at the writer as euphoria sluiced through his veins, paralyzing him.

‘So… I’ll take thunderbolt moments for two hundred?’ Kathryn teased.

‘I have to go,’ he managed to croak, and Isabelle grinned and handed him her keys. ‘She loves me.’

‘Fuckin-A,’ Kathryn said. ‘And you two just gave me my sequel.’

Ryan got to his feet and raced to the door- to the future he couldn’t live another five seconds without.

Honey To The Bee- that’s Ryan for me!

I’m in love with Ryan Weaver.

I’m not even joking. I wish I were, because if I was, I’d be able to sleep at night. I’d be able to accept dates from handsome men with my mother’s pre-approval, and I’d be able to dream of joint bank accounts, white picket fences and children with another man’s eyes.

But there’s no pointing in me imaging a future anymore, because my dream man has been presented to me and I know that no one else will ever compare so I’ve told my mum and dad to put my wedding fund towards a retirement home and told all of my girlfriends to stop hypothetically arguing over who will get to be my maid-of honour, because there’s not going to be a big day for this little honeybee.

And the funny thing is that I’m not even sad. I don’t know how many girls have fallen head over heels with a fictional character before, but I know I can’t be the only one and I stand by them proudly and declare: I will not settle for anything less!

I could go on about The Hardest Fall, and how it changed my life- how it ripped out my heart then showed it to me before I died; how fantastically talented the author is and how creative she is… but it’s all moot. It’s Ryan I want to talk about. Ryan I think about, and Ryan who has hijacked every train of thought I’ve ever have and could have again.

It’s not just that he’s beautiful, though he is so delicious that every word used to describe him practically shimmers on the page, and it’s not just that he’s sweet and kind and funny and sexy and witty and oh my GOD did someone turn up the heat in here?!

No, all of those things count, but it’s the little things that have stolen my heart: he knows that he’s beautiful and yet he credits the brightness of his smile and the shine in his eyes to her, like he’d fade without her attention. It’s the way that, even when he’s mad at her and so jealous that he can barely see straight, that he refuses to part ways with her because she’d rather be hurt by her, than not be around her at all. It’s the way he plans out his seductions and tells her straight up what he’s going to do to her and makes her wait for it. It’s the way he ties her up so that he can pleasure her, but releases her once she’s taken care of so that she won’t for a second; feel bound to return the favor. It’s the way he listens to old-fashioned music for the heart, but rocks it for his soul. It’s the way he does every little thing he can to prove that he loves her- whether it be to humour her by adopting the stray dog she felt sorry for, instead of the purebred he set out to buy, or putting her sugar in her coffee for her. It’s the way he can act like a rock-god but keep his house as neat as a pin and romantic too, and it’s the way he throws ridiculous tantrums and then shuffles in after, all embarrassed and needing to be around her, even though he’s still hurt or pissed, and it’s the way he never, ever lets her out of his sight if he can help it, unless it’s clear that she needs to be alone and then, he accommodates those wishes too.

Ryan loves Kylie more than he loves himself. No one in the world loves anyone more than they love themselves, unless it’s their kid or something, but he does. I know people are going to be hurt by the ending, and don’t get me wrong- it shattered me. But I’ve made my peace with it because Ryan was more than a third of a love triangle in this story- he was the heart. He was the beauty. He was more important than the protagonists, and if I’m ever lucky enough to find a man like him, and learn of him making a similar sacrifice for me, well, I’d end our story by going over the falls after him, because I’d love him the way he needed to be loved.

Kylie couldn’t. She was wonderful, as was Justin, but neither were worthy of him in the end. I’m so happy that they get to be together, and that I get to comfort myself in the knowledge that I’ve found my soul mate, even if I never get to feel his arms around me.

Thank you, Kathryn Praser for giving me Ryan. I’ll keep him safe in my heart forever!

Six

N
aturally, Bruce was busting to know every sordid detail concerning Leigh’s argument with Ryan, but she begged for stay of execution and so, for the duration of the drive home, Bruce regaled her with excerpts from his relationship with Paisley, not only filling the awkward silence, but also making Leigh feel like less of a drama magnet by comparison.

Apparently, Paisley really had been a flirt- the kind of girlfriend who seemed to want nothing to do with being a girlfriend outside of having a guaranteed escort and card on Valentine’s Day. She’d attended courses at a local college and had been so hard up for time that Bruce rarely had the chance to see her. And when those precious windows of time had opened up, Paisley had usually opted to go out drinking with her friends- the kind of binges that had ended with her stumbling home drunk at three in the morning with a handbag stuffed with other guys’ numbers, and had complained that Bruce’s job was the problem- what was she supposed to do with herself when he worked five nights a week?

She’d never cheated (that he knew of) but she had over two thousand Facebook friends, and fifteen hundred of them had been random guys she’d hit it off with at school or while out and about who in-boxed her a lot- inboxes Bruce was forbidden from asking about.

He’d known that their relationship had been off since after they’d graduated high school, but Bruce had hung in there because Paisley had never taken the prospect of breaking up well. But four years of having the same arguments over and over again had made Bruce realise that they were in a cycle that was benefitting neither and he’d ended it.

Paisley had been dating crazily since, only she refused to sever ties completely with Bruce, and often called him after each date to complain that they weren’t ‘him’. And now Bruce was left feeling very confused- still in love with her, or at least the history they had- but desperate to drop the final blade and cut her out of his life completely. He said he would have done that by then, only he was beginning to wonder if maybe, without the relationship, Paisley was still his best friend and always would be. Their history was long and rich, their families were entangled, as were their friends, and now that they were no longer obligated to allot time for one another, finding time to share had become an easier task.

Leigh hadn’t known what to say and so she’d said that, but told him that she couldn’t blame him one little bit for not having checked all of his baggage yet. He really was a sweet, cute guy and Leigh knew that once he’d come into his own, he’d be a heartbreaker. She’d told him that too, and that seemed to please him greatly- though he did admit that he didn’t want to be a heartbreaker- he just wanted to find that right girl and stay with her for always.

By the time Bruce was through with his story, they were pulling up in front of Ryan’s house and she had developed some weird intestinal condition which was aggravated by Ryan’s scent, which was everywhere within his home.

‘Do you want me to come in while you change… or should I leave the car running like in a bank hold-up?’ Bruce had joked.

‘No, come in. I need a quick shower- but I mean it when I say: ‘quick’.’ Leigh glanced down the street behind her and winced, imagining the scene she’d have to deal with if Ryan came home and found Bruce there. But then she remembered the offer he’d had from Isabelle, and her panic was replaced with jealousy. ‘If you just want to take a seat in the living room…’

Bruce had nodded, lifting his tablet from his dash and following Leigh inside. She dug out the spare key from a knot in the Oak tree and then made quick work of telling Bruce to make himself comfortable while she rushed down to her room.

Leigh was a ball of nerves, and lapsing time did nothing to abate it, nor did the distance she’d opened up between herself and Ryan. As she showered, being careful not to get her braid wet, Leigh had soaped herself and remembered Ryan doing it the night before, and when she shaved her legs, her chest ached to know that she was probably wasting time; Ryan was never going to touch her again. Still, Leigh had always worn make up and clothes like armor and she needed that armor now more than ever.

God are they both all over him? Taking turns? Are they smoking and drinking and naked with a bunch of guitars… crap Leigh don’t think about it!

When Leigh got back into the guest room, she realised that only five minutes had passed and so, she allowed herself a bit of time to pick her outfit. Originally, she’d planned on wearing the incredibly sexy white mini-dress she’d bought earlier that morning at the funky boutique for a night out alone, but it was still in Ryan’s trunk and she could hardly have bowled in it anyway, which meant that she needed a plan B. Bubbling her lips, Leigh ran her eyes over her clothes and ended up stealing an item from three separate outfits for her ‘look’ for that evening: short black dress shorts that she’d be able to bowl in, over the black tights she’d bought to wear with her red sweater-dress which was much to do much of anything in, let alone bowl. She added her favorite, but seldom worn going out top that she’d had for years: a chiffon halter in a pale grey that would have been transparent, if not for the second layer of pale white chiffon lining beneath it, and the intricate pattern of beads over the narrow shoulders and around the bust and hem. Her mother called it her ‘chandelier’ shirt and begged Leigh to wear it often because the pale grey made her eyes pop, but as beautiful as it was, Leigh rarely wore it because it was heavy and almost always too dressy for the places she went.

Still, it looked good with the casual lower half of the ensemble, and when she added her new black docs, everything came together nicely- almost boho and very Kylie Lyle.

I’d wear this top all the time now that I know that I don’t need to wear evening slacks and heels to make it work!

Once Leigh was dressed, she pushed her braided bangs off her forehead with a headband and re-applied her make-up, going to a bit more trouble than usual and almost poking herself in the eye with her kohl eyeliner as she tried to make her tired eyes focus. After three attempts and exactly three minutes, Leigh groaned and reached for her contact case, popping them in and giving her eyes a few minutes to adjust to the awful plastic while she unraveled her braid. When she could see again, she finished her eye make up and then ran her fingers through her hair, fluffing it before setting it with a quick spritz of hair spray.

When it was all done, Leigh reached for her glasses and stepped back from the small vanity, her eyebrows lifting in surprise when she realised that she’d never looked better. Her hair was full and crinkly, her eyes looked enormous and the brightest shade of green, but the cloud of hair actually buffered her sharper angles and edges and gave her eyes more proportion. She fluffed her hair and straightened her top before grinning at herself and thinking: ‘I kind of do look like Silky…’ and then her heart twisted sharply, knowing that Ryan would have been able to come up with way hotter comparisons for that Isabelle chick. Wanting to vomit again, Leigh put her glasses down and picked up her handbag instead and walked out of the room. She was shaking way too much to stick her fingers in her eyes again and besides, she was actually pleased with the way she looked for once.

Bruce stood up when she hurried back down the hallway, rolling her favorite perfume ‘Midnight Fantasy’ onto her wrists.

‘Okay that was twenty-two minutes,’ she said, tucking the travel perfume away in her purse and fluffing her hair self-consciously again. ‘But I get points for- what?’

Bruce’s mouth was hanging open. ‘What do you mean, what?’ He crossed his arms and glared at her. ‘How am I supposed to keep my hands where you can see them when you look like that?’

Leigh blushed, and rode the compliment like a rookie surfer on their first small wave- a wave they were determined to see all the way to the shore. ‘Thank you Bruce,’ she said, smiling shyly. ‘I hope I’m not too dressed up? I just have limited choices in what will work in a bowling alley.’

‘You look perfect.’ Bruce pulled at the collar of his red-button down shirt. ‘But again, I ask…?’

‘You’ll be able to keep your hands to yourself,’ she assured him, nodding towards the door. ‘The story I’m about to tell you about Ryan and I will ensure that, believe me.’

Bruce looked her up and down. ‘It’s gonna have to be pretty fucked up to put me off, missy.’

Leigh laughed and opened the door, shrugging into her thin black linen jacket. ‘It’s seventy-nine shades of messed-up, baby.’

Bruce paused on the porch, smiling thinly. ‘Why seventy-nine and not fifty?’

‘Because that’s how many times I’ve read the book about Ryan.’ She said, and then laughed at his shocked expression. ‘Go, go- it’s a story I’d rather tell you before he gets home, eh?’

Bruce hurried to his car.

Ryan

She wasn’t in the house when he got home, but her scent was everywhere, and strong enough to tell him that he’d missed her by maybe ten minutes, tops. Ryan trotted down to Imogen’s room and blinked when he saw that she’d left it in disarray- cosmetics were strewn everywhere, as were the clothes she’d been wearing, along with a wet towel, and to his dismay- her glasses.

Argh! She got dressed up for him? What the fuck, Leigh?

Ryan picked up Leigh’s glasses and then sighed, sinking down onto her bed with them and staring around the room dejectedly. His caveman self wanted to take off after her and throw himself between her and Bruce’s bodies like a human shield, but her review danced across his mind, gently reminding him that she’d fallen for a character who was too confident to play such adolescent games- a character who gave the girl space when it was clear that that was what she needed most.

Leigh was a reader, and like musicians, readers and writers needed the space to vanish when the real world got too intense. The day before, when his lust for her had had him climbing the walls, he’d locked himself in his studio and had played it out and Leigh had let him do so without interrupting. Now, she needed to play- to be light and have fun and for a few hours after having being trapped in his windowless world for days- and he had to grant her that.

It also can’t hurt to have her hanging out with a guy who’s not as built, handsome, talented or fucking cocky as me for a while… hmm… maybe this date with Bruce will have her showing up at my gig and begging to play pretend again?

Smiling, and remembering that he had three very important things to do before he saw Leigh again and therefore could use the time-out as well, Ryan leaned over to open the small drawer in Leigh’s bedside table to put her glasses away. The drawer stuck at first, its peeling paint and rusty rails catching, but he pulled a little harder and it gave almost too quickly. Ryan caught the drawer before it could fall to the floor, and his eyes widened when he saw a hardcover edition of The Hardest Fall nestled within it, taking up all the room and leaving none for Leigh’s glasses.

‘Wow… you really made yourself at home, baby-doll…’ Ryan drawled, pushing the drawer back into its gap but picking up the book, toying with the idea of leaving a note inside the cover for her. ‘Don’t suppose you’d like to stay for forty years or so?’ He had the tip of Leigh’s glasses clenched loosely between his teeth so that when he spoke, his voice came out sounding old-world academic. He smiled and pushed the glasses onto his face, then immediately groaned and pulled them off when the blurriness made his head pound, threatening a migraine.

No wonder she thought I was a hallucination! She can’t see shit!

Ryan opened the book and blinked, trying to get his eyes to stop dilating wildly- but then he saw the small sheath of papers nestled within the front cover, and an odd feeling travelled up his spine. It was wrong to be going through her stuff, but suddenly, he wasn’t so sure that it was Leigh’s stuff anymore, because the bookmark on top of everything was one of Imogen’s bookmarks- a very old, very yellowed cloth one depicting one of the early editions of Black Beauty, which had been Imogen’s favorite novel.

And then he saw the handwriting on the note, and there was no longer any question as to who had penned it. With a tightening gut, Ryan picked the note up and began to read Imogen’s farewell letter.

Ryan,

I know I have left you lonely, and for that I can never apologize enough. But my time on this earth, as this version of myself has run its course and I must start a new chapter and leave you to finish your story. I hope you are not alone for long but my hopes and your hopes can only get you so far, Ryan. You must take action, or the remaining pages will be blank.

I don’t know if you have your memories back yet, or if that is even possible- but until you do I understand that you are stranded in the life I bestowed upon you. So, I unethically used my connections with the hospital to dig up some papers for you- papers belonging to another young man who never had the chance at a future. Take them and do with them what you will- you can keep his name safe in the knowledge that it will not be recognised, or you can in time, change them to Ryan Weaver or to whatever you’d like. The choice is yours and the name inconsequential to who you are. If you choose to wait for your own memories to come back, I understand, but I pray that you decide to live instead.

But read the book and understand that you are Ryan Weaver, even if it is not the one you were born with, and I gave it to you out of love and in recognition of a truly kindred spirit.

Watching over you always,