Supernova Souls - Ryan Upchurch

-6-

Ryan stormed back inside the house with his hands clenched into fists at his sides, clothes drenched in rainwater along with his red hair that'd gotten all sorts of messed up in the chilly winter breeze. He pushed some of his stray curls away from his eyes and slicked them back into place while he tried to storm past the living room where everybody sat.

"How is-"

"Don't." He says firmly. "I don't wanna talk about it."

Austen rolls his eyes but decided to let go of it and not push his brother. He was not in the mood to deal with Ryan while he was angry. He was like an angry bull when he was pissed off and nobody could calm him once they'd poked him just a little too much.

Delilah kept her gaze on the sketchbook that Patty Lynn had lended to her laid wide open on her lap. She was drawing to clear her anxious mind that was constantly feeding her lies about herself-and now that she was stuck staying at Ghost Ranch they had gotten worse.
The voices in her mind were getting worse but she refused to ask for help.

Little does she know she's fighting the same silent battle Ryan is.

Ryan opens the liquor cabinet and takes out the bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey and pours some into a glass with very little ice and returns to his recliner in the front room that sat directly across from Delilah.

While he was flipping through the channels on TV, Delilah took the little sliver of time to look up at him and take in some things about him she never took the time to see before.

His damp red hair clung to his sweaty forehead, pouty lips pressed together while he concentrated on the TV that hung on the wall above the flickering fireplace and the way the tattoos that littered his arms and hands only complimented the scary, "Don't-fuck-with-me-or-else" vibe he had going on, which was sort off.. sexy, in a way.
His coat was barely on at this point. You could see his t-shirt peeking out from underneath the coat and the ink on his upper arms, and the sleeves were mostly slid off.

"What're you lookin' at?" He spits, darkness clouding over his blue eyes.

"What crawled up your ass and died?"

"Fuck off."

He looks back up at the TV, clearly unsatisfied with every damn show, then back down to the glass of whiskey in his tattooed hand.

Delilah rolls her eyes and looks back down at the drawing she was halfway done with on the paper.
On the white page of the sketchbook was the messily drawn outline to a 2015 Silverado 2500HD.
She hadn't had the time to color the picture of her truck in yet or add much detailing, yet it looked good.

Austen snatched the remote from Ryan's hand and switches the TV onto The Ranch, completely ignoring the curse words and pissed off look on his big brother's face.

"Asshole."

My fucking house and he still takes my shit. Ryan thought to himself, taking a swallow of his whiskey.

His eyes glide over to Delilah, ignoring the thoughts that gathered about her saying the same things he'd told her when he caught her staring at him and just studied her for a moment.

Her hair was long and wavy, falling messily over her shoulders. Some curls fell into her face and covered her hazel eyes, but she wasn't bothered enough to move them or tuck them back into place. The faint light from the lamp on the table beside the couch she was sitting on shined on her beautiful mahogany brown hair, showcasing the beautiful hint of red that would show in the light.
She had on a tight black tank top that perfectly showed off her curves and made her chest look admittedly much fuller than her baggy clothes did, they hid her stunning figure and did a damn good job at keeping it a secret. Her coat draped around her shoulders as if she was using it as a blanket of sorts. She had on the same jeans she wore the day the flash flood had started, and boots. Her usual, baggy attire did not do her justice whatsoever.

He looks down at the sketchbook in her lap.

"You draw?"

"Gotta have something to do." She replies calmly, ignoring the other half of her sentence she oh so desperately wanted to say.
Especially when you're stuck being a guest in the same house as your employer, that just so turns out to be an asshole with a horrible attitude. She thinks to herself, rolling her eyes as she scribbled in some shading on the paper.

"What're you drawing, anyway?"

"My truck."

"You've got two?"

"I've got three."

"Three? Got an entire damn collection started."

"You've literally got a hundred cars and trucks, I've got a normal amount of trucks compared to you."

"Oh, do I now?"

You haven't seen the beginning of my trucks, darling.

"I've got more than just the ones in the garage."

"More?"

"Many more."

"You gotta show 'em to me sometime then."

"Gotta Lambo too."

"Shit, that's somethin' I've gotta see. Ryan Upchurch with a Lamborghini?"

Ryan rolls his eyes, but smiled when an image of his green Lambo flashes in his mind.
The golden names that creek squad had signed on the green paint and the tiny scratches than were all over it and then the little sticker on the passenger side door that read "Riley". On her birthday he had put that sticker on the door, the same color as the one on the back that said passenger princess.

Oh, he loved Riley more than life itself..

But now he's uncertain if she'll be okay.