How I wished that were true. I was in love with Ryan Steel. Of course I hadn’t told him that, and until I had an inkling of how he felt about me and my part in his DNA test, I wasn’t going to.
“Tell Melanie I said hi,” I said to Jonah.
“Will do.” He and Talon left.
I turned to Ryan. “Let’s see what they brought you.” I opened the bag of takeout and took out a container and opened it. “Yum. Spaghetti Bolognese. Want some?”
“I do, actually.”
“Okay.” I picked up the plate that had the remnants of his hospital food, took it into his bathroom, and rinsed and dried it off. I returned and filled it with spaghetti and a slice of garlic bread. “Eat up.”
“Aren’t you going to join me?”
“I hadn’t thought about it.” The guys had brought plenty of food. “There isn’t another plate.”
“You can use this one,” he said. “I’ll eat out of the container.”
I smiled. Offering me his plate was kind of chivalrous. I wasn’t used to chivalry. “That’s okay. Go ahead and eat. I’ll just take a few bites.”
I grabbed a plastic fork out of the bag and took a few bites of the spaghetti. Spicy and delicious. And it kept me from having to talk for a couple of minutes.
I’d promised myself I wouldn’t pester him about our relationship out of respect to everything else he was going through. Not that I would anyway. I’d never had a relationship with a man before. This was all new to me, and I certainly didn’t relish the idea of talking to him about whatever this was between us.
He continued eating, and the silence became deafening. I took another bite of spaghetti just to have something to do.
“I didn’t tell my brothers yet.”
Ryan’s words startled me. I swallowed my mouthful of food and looked up. “Tell them what?”
“About my father. Your father. What they were into.”
Right. Wendy Madigan had confirmed my human trafficking theory, and it had made me sick to my stomach. Ryan hadn’t had such a theory, so I could only imagine how the new knowledge affected him. Still, we had no proof his father was actually involved in it. My father, however, definitely was.
“I don’t blame you. It’s not really a topic for everyday conversation. Especially not when you have a concussion.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“About what?”
“That your father is… Hell, I don’t know.”
“It is what it is,” I said matter-of-factly. “If I could change my DNA, I would. But I can’t.” Jesus, Ruby. Did you really just say that? “I’m sorry about the DNA comment. I wasn’t thinking.”
He shook his head. “I have to accept it. Believe me, I’d change my DNA if I could too. I hate that Wendy Madigan is my biological mother. I guess we both come from psychopaths. And for all I know, I come from two of them.”
“Focus on the good memories of your father, Ryan,” I said.
I didn’t have any good memories of
my own father, but when I needed some solace, I thought about my mother, Diamond Thornbush. Yes, that was really her name. She might not have won mother of the year, but she had done the best she could, and I never doubted her love for me.
“He called me.”
“Who?”
“My father.”
I jolted, nearly spilling the Styrofoam container of spaghetti all over my lap. “What?”