His Girl Next Door: The Army Ranger's Return / New York's Finest Rebel / The Girl from Honeysuckle Farm

George scowled at him and slammed the door, school bag on his knee.

“Hey.”

George ignored him.

“Good day at school?”

Ryan received a shrug in return before George slumped down low and stared out the window.

He turned the ignition and pulled out into the traffic.

Part of Ryan wanted to explode. To pull over and grab his son and shake him until he listened. To tell him what he’d been through, how much he hurt, what he’d seen during wartime that had made his stomach turn.

“George …”

But he couldn’t tell him off. Because his son had done nothing wrong. He was just behaving how any hurt child of his age would. By dishing out the silent treatment. So Ryan clenched all his fingers around the wheel and kept his eyes on the road and his mouth shut.

George didn’t seem to have noticed he’d even been spoken to. But a letter every other week and a dad absent for almost two years since his last trip home meant that Ryan deserved the silent treatment. The short time he’d spent with him between deployments the last time had been strained and emotional, but George had been a lot younger then. More accepting and so excited to have his dad back.

So right now he needed to wait it out, or figure out a way to make amends. It wasn’t as if he could jump up and down and insist the boy behave. George was on his way to becoming a young man, and if he didn’t fix things between them soon, he might lose his chance forever.

But this wasn’t the army. And George wasn’t his subordinate.

He was a dad and he had a lot to prove before he deserved the title. Being a father wasn’t something you could write on a name tag and lay claim to. He’d been anything but a dad these past few years, and it was embarrassing. Ryan had grown up in a loving family, his parents had been married thirty-seven years and his own father had been a shining role model.

Ryan felt his knuckles harden, like he was trying to squeeze the lifeblood from the steering wheel.

He’d let his own dad down, too, as much as he’d let himself down. After having the best example set for him, Ryan had ignored his instincts, that gut feeling that he was behaving badly. Had left it way too long to make amends.

Which is why part of him wanted to run back to the army and write this entire episode off as too hard. Hide again because it was easier.

But he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do that. Because this time he had to face up to his past, to what had happened, and try to move forward. Instead of sticking his head in the sand like a stubborn ostrich.

Ryan flexed his jaw. The kid still hadn’t made a noise.

“What do you think about grabbing something to eat?”

George didn’t look at him, eyes still trained out the window, like he couldn’t think of anything worse than being in an enclosed space with his father, let alone having to communicate with him.

“Or would you rather go home?” Ryan asked.

“Home.”

Ryan nodded. At least he’d spoken. But he knew the drill. They’d arrive home, George would kiss his grandmother on the cheek and grab a handful of her baking, then head to his room. He’d either push his headphones on and blast music through his eardrums like he was determined to be deaf before his eighteenth birthday, or go square-eyed playing video games.

He had intended on asking George if he wanted to do something tonight, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen.

Which meant maybe, just maybe, he should call Jessica.

Jessica.

Now that was one word that was always sure to put a smile on his face. He had grinned like an idiot whenever a letter had arrived for him with her unmistakable handwriting on the back. And when he’d seen her today, he could barely wipe the smile from his lips.

He’d been rude earlier, hot then cold, and he had no idea why she’d rattled him so bad. Seeing her cry had done something to him, made him remember what it was like to see his wife cry. Years of her being the strong pillar of their marriage had fallen like dust to the ground that day they’d found out she’d had cancer. And seeing Jessica cry today had messed with his head in the same way.

But she had seemed on edge, too, before she’d broken down. Not herself, if that was even possible for him to know when he’d never met her before. But all those letters, all those words they’d shared, they counted for something. And deep down something was telling him that she would be just as annoyed with herself as he was with himself right now.

Which meant there was a glimmer of hope that she’d give him another chance and agree to the dinner she’d suggested before he’d blown cold and fled like a pride of lions was in pursuit of his soul.

Ryan sighed and pulled into the driveway of his parents’ house.

He’d already made a mess of his relationship with his son, but he didn’t have to ruin the one good thing in his life right now. Jessica was a great friend, had been a great friend, and he wasn’t going to act like an idiot and face the prospect of going back to war somewhere without knowing her letters would follow him there.

Wherever in the world he’d been, wherever they’d sent him, her letters had always found him. And she had no idea how that had kept him going. Kept him alive when everything else had gone so wrong.

He glanced at George again and noticed his eyes had closed. Great, now he preferred being unconscious to being in the car with his dad.

There was no chance of them spending time together tonight, so he wasn’t going to beat himself up about going out on a date.

Ryan clasped the wheel harder and stared straight ahead.

Not a date. Not in any way a date.

He was going to ask a friend for dinner. They’d already discussed it earlier.

Just because she looked incredible did not mean it was a date by any stretch of the word.

He ground his teeth together.

George leaped from the car with the most enthusiasm Ryan had seen from him all day as soon as they were stationary.

Dinner with Jessica was definitely his best option. Jessica couldn’t stop stirring her coffee. It was the only way she could continuously avoid her friend’s stare.

“You can’t avoid me forever.”

That was the problem. Bella had been her best friend far too long to be put off so easily. But what could she tell her? The truth was she had no idea herself what had happened.

“So what did he look like?”

Jessica took a sip and ignored the way the liquid burned her mouth.

“He was, um, normal. You know? Just a regular guy.”

She looked down again. If normal guys had frames that could fill doorways without an inch of fat covering their bones. Sharp blue eyes that made her want to blush every time they were turned her way, or tanned skin that seemed like the sun itself had fallen to earth to kiss it.

“Normal?” Bella didn’t sound convinced.

Jess nodded.