(Disclaimer: I don't own anything at all. So don't sue me. Please.)
A Note from the Author: Okay, I might have taken some liberties with the descriptions of certain places, and some legal stuff, but it's all for the greater good of the story! And I have to confess, I really like this chapter (could it be because it's gone back to R/S? hell yeah!), so please tell me what you think. My A/N is short today, so I figured I could finally take some time to thank all of the last three chapters' reviewers…
littleputz114 – Hehe, thanks for reading even if you don't like the ship!
bens-baby – Aww, thanks. I try to make the endings a little more 'snappy', a little less 'cliffhanger'.
OcFan4u – Lol, okay, I thought we were clear on the Ryan will end up with Summer bit. It's just going to be a slow and difficult journey, that's all.
C – I know! Caitlyn. Oy.
OC SccrGrl – Wow, um thanks! blushes I'm really glad people still take the time to check out the story even if they're S/S or R/M, because yeah, you can totally support two different ships at once. And I hope your eyes are recovering nicely!
Also thanks to: kate3635ca, bop1997, Candy.07, STLgrl05004, benzbabidoll, jZzRgRl13, BlueStarGirl, and abc123. All of you totally rock (and if I have spelt your name wrong or forgot to acknowledge you, I suck)! And onwards…
Chapter SeventeenRyan grimly rang the doorbell. Whatever it was that had upset Summer so much, he was sure it couldn't have been good. And when she led him into her house and upstairs to her room with the tell-tale signs of tearstained cheeks and red eyes, it was then that he realized the gravity of the situation.
It struck him that this would be the second time in a brief period that he had seen Summer cry. Did he just have that effect on people, or what? He'd seen Seth cry. Summer cry. Luke, maybe once, he had gotten teary about his dad. And Marissa had cried. A lot.
He had been to Summer's house so many times already (the pool house as a meeting place, obviously, was out of the question now). And still, he was always surprised that the house was so empty. And cold. With most of the lights off and the setting sun casting odd shadows through the windows, the effect was downright eerie. Everything was beige-coloured: the carpet, the walls, the furniture. It looked so bland and foreign.
But it wasn't so unfamiliar to Ryan. If everything was white, and smaller, and you added a few stains from the leaking roof along with cast-off beer bottles to the side, well, it was his old house in Chino all over again. It had never felt like home, not with Dawn coming and going whenever she pleased, and Trey sometimes taking off for a whole week for some secret business. They treated each other like acquaintances merely living in the same house, and there were always secrets, because no one was trusted enough to keep them.
He had grown up in a bad environment, and Ryan didn't like the resemblance Summer's supposed 'home' bore.
At least he had the Cohens now; she didn't have anyone except for him and Marissa. Even though he was currently dating their daughter (in secret), Ryan had never even met her parents, or seen them around town. They were always busy with social engagements in faraway countries, again coming and going whenever they pleased. They probably only returned home so they could change the clothes in their suitcase.
It didn't matter, Ryan realized. It didn't matter if you were rich or poor, Newport or Chino, young or old. You could still have shitty parents and a fucked up family life.
And now Summer was leading him by the hand to her bed, and they settled themselves in a comfortable position, him with one arm around her shoulders, her with both arms encircling his waist.
She knew that they didn't need to talk if they didn't want to, that there would be no uncomfortable silences between them. But she needed to tell someone, and it would be nice if that someone were Ryan.
"That bitch," she spat out bitterly. "That bitch." She suppressed a sob.
There was no question as to whom she was talking about. Of course, they had talked about their respective (strictly biological) mothers in passing, but… this time, it felt different. All Ryan could do was tighten his hold around her.
"All these years, and what has she done for me? Nothing. All these years of waiting, and wishing, and hoping, and… nothing. And –" Summer was starting to rant now, but she was holding herself back a little. This was Ryan's cue.
"Summer? You need to start making sense now," he stated bluntly. To anyone else, this would have been the wrong thing to say. Seth would have let her speech run its course. Marissa would have done the same. But if there was anything Ryan was sure of, it was that there was no use wallowing in your pain. It was futile to rant and waste your emotions on someone who didn't even care about you. He and Summer already knew that fact from years of experience of being ignored by their parents.
He was being frankly honest now. That was what he knew Summer wanted.
"I got a phone call, Ryan. From her…"
"What?" he cut in, surprised.
"From her lawyer."
At this, Ryan had a sinking feeling in his heart. This was not good. This would not be good.
"She's dead. Car accident." And then she laughed, the sound somewhat forced.
He didn't know what to say anymore. If it had been Dawn…
"I was the only person on her will. I am now the proud owner of a New York City apartment, some furniture, a few stocks…" Summer listed the items, counting silently in her head. She felt numb now. Defeated.
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. Her lawyer said that I might want to go over there to clear out her things. And stay for the funeral." Summer was trembling, and Ryan could only hold her. He felt helpless somehow. "I was waiting for so long, Ryan," she whispered softly, and he had to strain to hear her. "I guess deep down, I always wanted her back. I wanted her home, with me, and I wanted a happy little family. And then she had to go and die… God, I'm such an idiot."
"Shh." Ryan faced her, and enveloped her in a warm hug. "You're not an idiot. You were just… disillusioned."
"Disillusioned? Well, there's a way of putting it."
Ryan stroked her hair, glad to see that she could still make sarcastic remarks. It meant that she could get over this. They could get over this.
"You're the only person I've told, you know," she mumbled against his chest. "You're the only person I'm telling." She grew quiet again.
Ryan understood that this was an important moment. It was the perfect time for him to guide her back down and leave her lounging in her bed until she could get over her grief. Maybe he could tuck her in, kiss her forehead, leave her alone with her thoughts and give her space so she could recover independently. Alone.
But Ryan and Summer had been alone for over a decade. No more touchy-feely-I-don't-want-to-offend-you-so-I'll-tread-softly crap. It was time for a change. It was time for the both of them to grow up.
"Feel like a smoke?" he offered.
"Oh God yes." She could remember the bitter taste of the cigarettes she took comfort in when she was young.
He wiped off the last of her drying tears with his thumb and glanced around the brightly pink room. "Somehow, smoking in here doesn't feel appropriate."
She managed a smile. "I'm considering redecorating it. Any suggestions?"
"Yeah," he replied wryly. "No more pink."
She scoffed. "Smoke first, plan later."
It was time for a change. It was time to grow up.