Page 96 of The Way We Are

Savannah shakes her head. “No, it’s not. You’re her son, Ryan, not her protector.”

Realizing her words are breaking through some of my resolve, Savannah continues chipping away at it. “You’ve done everything you can to help her. You can’t do any more. It’s time to put yourself first. I love your mom, Ryan, but Ihatethe way she constantly picks Ted over you and Damon. That'snotwhat a mother should do. She's supposed to raise you, not drag you down.”

“She did the best she could in the situation.”

Savannah sighs, disturbed I just used an excuse similar to the ones my mom regularly uses for my dad. For years, I’ve strived not to become my father, but during that process I somehow became my mother.

“I’m her enabler, but instead of feeding her drugs, I accepted her excuses.”

Savannah gives me a few moments to work through the turmoil before speaking. “I’m not saying you should walk away, Ryan. No one benefits when you turn a blind eye, but I do think you should follow Regina’s suggestions.”

“The last time I spoke out...” I take a moment to control my nerves before continuing, “She spent a week in the hospital, Savannah. An entire week.”

“I know,” Savannah replies, sorrow echoing in her tone. “But you don’t have to mention her name to begin the steps needed to break the cycle. Speaking out publicly about domestic violence has been proven to lower incidents. Look at how your father responded to Regina’s investigation. Just the prospect of being caught reduced the number of incidents in your household dramatically. Get people on your side, Ry. Tell your neighbors he isn’t yelling at the TV. Ask them to call the police if they hear anything suspicious. Encouraging a change in their mindset may incite a change in your mother’s mindset as well. The more people she has surrounding her, the safer she will be.”

I run the back of my hand down the groove imbedded deep in her cheek. This is one of the many things I love about Savannah: her optimism. She doesn’t roll over and play dead when times get tough. She sticks with it and continues twisting the puzzle piece until she finds the right fit. It was Savannah’s determination to seek justice that saw Axel and two of his friends netted by the FBI. Savannah suggested we wear a wire during drop-off. She even knew staying in my truck would cause Axel’s green head to rear up. She's as smart as she is beautiful.

“I’ll talk to my neighbors tomorrow. See if I can get a few more eyes on my place while I’m away at training.”

Savannah smiles a grin that makes me forget the world. It also reminds me that she's straddling my lap.

“Uh-uh,” Savannah purrs, her words not matching the excitement blazing in her eyes. “Our little detour down a dark and scary alley already set us back twenty minutes. We don’t have another twenty minutes to spare.”

When she attempts to scoot off my lap, I yank her back into her rightful spot. A soft moan ripples through her lips when she feels the effect her body has on me. I am primed and ready to go.

“What about ten? Can you spare tenmeaslyminutes?” My last three words are accompanied by feather-like kisses to her jaw, neck, and mouth.

“You only need ten minutes?”

My chest puffs high, swelling with smugness from the confusion in her tone. Other than when her lips are wrapped around my dick, her pleasure isalwaysat the forefront of my mind. I don’t care if it takes two minutes or two hours, until she's pleased to the point of exhaustion, I don’t let up.

“I don’t need ten minutes.” Savannah’s honey-colored hair falls from her face when I lay her across the bench seat of my truck. “But you sure look like you could use ten minutes.”

Her moan of anticipation switches to exhilaration when the back of my fingers graze her heated core mere seconds before I slip her damp panties to the side. I would love to spread her out and devour every inch of her right now, but with the occasional rowdy teen staggering past my truck every few minutes, I harness my desires—barely.

“Can you spare ten minutes, Savannah?” I ask again, inching my finger inside her sweet-scented pussy.

Savannah doesn’t answer me... unless you perceive a moan as a yes?

39

Ryan

Savannah’s rowdy laughter roars down the line, kickstarting both my heart and my libido.

“It wasn’t funny. You should have seenhermustache. I thought she had a Cocker Spaniel stuck on her top lip. I tugged on it a few times to save the wee lass, but it wouldn’t come off,” I continue explaining, my voice a cross between my British and Irish trainers. “When me and three other recruits tried to hold her down, she took off via the scrub at the back of the academy. I don’t think we’ll ever see the Cocker Spaniel again.”

Savannah’s giggles even louder, loving my eccentric run-down of my day’s events. It’s been two months since I last saw her. Two long and torturous months. Although we talk a minimum twice a day, it’s not the same as having her in my arms. I’d give anything to see her at my graduation tomorrow. Anything at all.

“What about you? What did you get up to today?” I ask, choosing to take the high road instead of the low one.

Our separation has been just as tedious for Savannah as it has been for me, and deep down inside, I know she did everything in her power to come watch me graduate tomorrow, but sometimes the moon and stars just don’t align like we’d like.

“Same old, same old,” Savannah answers, her voice breathless from laughter.

Her husky giggles tighten my crotch when I ask, “Did Simon forget his pants again?”

“No. Thank god! I still don’t think he believes me, though. He's adamant his boxer shorts are swimming trunks.”

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