Page 20 of Ripple Effect, Vol. 3

I’m damn near chomping at the bit to leave, because the barrage of questions swimming around in my head has only intensified. I suspect Ripley won’t answer most of what I ask, but even some answers are better than none at all. Through the windshield, I watch as he wraps Emily in a hug, one she seems almost reluctant to return and the bite of jealousy strikes again.

Damn it, stop, Dylan.

It’s only that I don’t know what she is to him, like some secret I’m not in on.

He finally slides into the driver’s seat, and while he backs the car out of the lot, I fidget, trying to sort through the questions.

“You want to know what Emily is to me.” As though he can read my damn mind. That, or it’s written all over my face in the scowl I’m wearing.

“Yes. It’s just a curiosity. Not a jealousy thing.”

Well, kind of jealous, but mostly curious.

“I suspected as much. She was treated very badly.”

“Not by you, right?”

He keeps his eyes on the road and I catch the dip of his brows. “Not directly.”

“But you indirectly hurt her?”

“Yes.”

“What is she to you?”

“She’s a reminder that no one in my world is safe from my enemies.”

“What she suffered, it was because of you?”

“Yes.” He glances over at me and back to the windshield. “And I think it’s safe to say, she’s pretty fucked up as a result.”

“That’s why you brought me here, isn’t it? So I won’t get attached?”

“I brought you here so you’d understand why I’ll never treat you like a whore, but as much as I want you, Dylan, I’ll never have you. I can’t keep you.”

“That’s why you keep your distance. It’s why you avoid me. You think I’m gonna …” Not even I can say it aloud. “You loved her, didn’t you?”

“Very much. But love is a liability. Love is death in my line of work.”

“Emily isn’t dead—”

“If you knew the person she once was, you’d question the meaning of death.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me falling in love or getting attached. That’s not my thing.”

“I don’t mean to hurt you by saying that.”

“You can’t hurt me, Ripley. It’s impossible to wound what’s already ruined. And that happened long before you, so don’t sweat it.” I look out the window at the city passing by in a blur of beiges and grays, speckled with the occasional red and black. “I’m not disillusioned by the fairytale. Girls where I come from don’t believe in them.”

“Good shit happens to some people. Just not with me. I wanted to be honest with you. You’re a strong woman, Dylan. The type who could have a man on his knees if he wasn’t careful.”

I need to get off this topic before I open the door and throw myself out into oncoming traffic. I get it. We’re fuckbuddies. I didn’t expect more than that anyway, and he’s right. Better to have all those cards laid out before someone makes the mistake of thinking otherwise. “We have the same tattoos, Emily and I. Did you know that?” I flip mine over and rub my thumb along my wrist. “Pretty strange.”

“Strange,” he echoes and another round of frustration bubbles to the surface. I’ve had enough of the echoing shit.

“Any idea why? Or what it means? Or maybe who the hell put hers there?”

“Emily doesn’t tell me much.”