Page 64 of Change of Plans

“That redhead you’re maligning happens to be my wife. And the mother of my child. Call her a name again and I’ll escort you out by the short and curly hairs of your—”

“Turns out, I was wrong about your party planner, and I’m not too proud to say it,” Mr. Penny interrupted, with a nod of apology at Drake. “Your Kate is a lovely woman, and not a harlot at all.”

Drake made a move toward the couch, and Zander smoothly inserted himself between his brother and the old man. He put a hand on Drake’s shoulder, the gesture casual, but Ryker saw by the white tips of Zander’s fingers that he was actually having to restrain his oldest brother.

“Well, I’m sure Kate will be thrilled she’s off the harlot list.” Zander gave his trademark easy laugh. “But let’s talk more about you two. What, exactly, are your plans?”

As Ryker listened to his mom chatter about how they intended to spend winters in an as-yet-unpurchased property in Florida and summers in “Frankie’s” house, he decided he wouldn’t tell his family about his trip to Long Island. He knew damn well they’d all lurch into crisis mode when he said the words “PTSD” or “therapy dog.” They always were in crisis mode for him, it seemed—Zander had lost almost an entire working year of his life being Ryker’s coach at Walter Reed, and Drake had stood tall for him as creditor when he’d returned to civilian life. He didn’t want to get their hopes up and have them dashed. It would be hard enough for him if he and the dog didn’t bond—he was counting on this being the bridge he needed to fully engage in civilian life and be the man Bryce deserved. No. He wasn’t going to tell his family. No need to let his stupid PTSD ruin his mom’s celebration.

He’d just have to figure out how to leave town for a week without freaking them out.

That’s where Tarun came in. His best friend could take him to Walter Reed and get him home without arousing too much suspicion. Tarun was always coming to town, whisking up Ryker and insisting they attend some Marine event or another. He’d pretend this was another one of those innocuous visits.

Soon the conversation about Mom and her new fiancé’s relationship wound down. He caught Zander’s eye and gave him a chin nod to show he was ready to make an exit.

“Well, congrats, Mom.” Zander embraced their mother, then shook Mr. Penny’s—Frank’s—hand. “We gotta roll. Ryker’s hit his level of social interaction tonight, and any more might send him into some sort of RBF attack.”

For once, Ryker was thankful for Zander’s goofiness. He pretended the wince he gave when he stood was due to his younger brother’s smart mouth.

“Shut up, bro,” he growled, because it was expected of him. He gave a nod to Mr. Penny and kissed his mom’s cheek. “I’m heading out with Tarun tomorrow. Road trip for a few days. Marine stuff.”

He walked toward the kitchen, his left leg feeling as though someone had taken a blowtorch to the end of his residual limb. His missing left ankle throbbed in time to his heartbeat.

“You sure you’re okay, sweetheart?” His mom had crept up behind him as he’d followed Zander toward Drake’s back door, where the Prius was parked by the carriage house garage. “You look like something’s bothering you.”

He kept his face forward. No way could he pull off this lie if he were meeting his mother’s blue-eyed gaze. She had a built-in bullshit meter, and it would start to ping if she saw his face when he spoke.

“I’m just sore from jogging tonight. I’ll be fine. Love you, Mom.”

A text blipped on his phone as he made his way out of his grandparents’ old house—the place Drake and Kate had made their own, filling it with so much love it seemed to glow from within—and as he climbed into Zander’s Prius, he pulled it out.

It was Bryce.

Bryce: Hey there. Checking in to see if everything’s okay?

Ryker looked at the text. How could he respond in a way that wouldn’t worry her but wasn’t a bald-faced lie? He wished for the millionth time he’d finished what he’d wanted to say when he was dressed in that god-awful Easter Bunny costume. Because then he’d have told her he felt the same about her. He grinned every time he thought about her, counted down the hours until he could see her at the café or on their run. Yanked his phone out of his coveralls with the expectation of every one of her texts. No doubt this woman was carving her way into his heart. But she had to know what she was signing up for. She’d said she wanted kids at Easter, and before they went further, deeper in this relationship, she deserved the truth about his probable sterility and about the realities of his life with PTSD. But there hadn’t been a good opportunity to say what needed to be said. PattyCakes was always busy with customers, and telling her in between making sandwiches or ladling out soup orders wasn’t cool. He’d consoled himself with the knowledge that they’d be alone when they jogged, and he’d planned to bring it up then.

But when he’d finally met up with her outside Imani’s dance studio, Bryce was clearly so upset about the girls’ parent-teacher conferences he’d let her talk first. Then he’d gotten caught up in figuring out how to help June—Zander was ridiculously good at science and history, and Ryker had been good at math—and in his head he was thinking of a possible tutoring arrangement. Thoughts of telling her about his years of radiation treatment and how they’d likely negatively impact his ability to ever father children had fled his mind, as had thoughts of telling her about his potential service dog for his PTSD.

He looked at her question. Telling her all of this via text didn’t seem right, neither did telling her on the phone. They’d talk when he got back from Long Island, whether he got matched with a dog or not.

So thinking, he tapped out a neutral response with his thumbs, screwing up the spelling twice until he hit all the right keys.

Ryker: Just a family thing. I’ve got to head out of town for a few days. Marine business. I want to talk with you when I get back.

Bryce: Um, ok. Is it a hug emergency?

His heart chugged in his chest—she knew him. She sensed there were things he wanted to say.

He wanted, more than anything, to be with this woman. Maybe forever. But if they were going to be a real couple, she deserved to know what she was signing up for first. PTSD, therapy dog, potential sterility, and further surgery for his leg—that was all a conversation best left for when they were together.

Until then, he would do what Marines did best—endure. He would do the right thing by Bryce. He replied.

Ryker: Call you soon.

Then he pocketed his phone as Zander started the Prius.

“Everything okay, dude?”

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