Always Only You (Rewriting)

08| Octo

If there's a slight chance of getting something that will make you happy, risk it. Life's too short and happiness too rare.

-A.R Lucas

Ryan's Pov

I wake to the sound of my phone ringing. Groaning and rolling to the other side, I glance at the caller ID before switching it off.

"They just don't know when to quit, though their persistence ought to be appreciated," I mutter as I switch off my phone so that they don't track the number.

If they've managed to get a hold of my number, it'll be a matter of a few weeks before they trace me.

Glancing at the small post it note with an address scrawled on it, I push it into my pocket.

"I'll visit them today."

And check up on Leah.

It's been two weeks, but I still don't let her out of my sight. She doesn't realize how dangerous it is to walk alone at night if you can't defend yourself.

"Will you teach me then?" her eyes stare vacantly into mine as I'm taken aback by her sudden request.

"I'm kidding," she says as I don't answer her immediately. "After all, what can a blind girl do?"

I've never seen so much of anguish in her face before, as though she's being tormented by invisible demons. We all have our demons, but right now I want to ignore my mine and help her with hers.

"Were you born blind?" I ask slowly, unconscious that I have tread on a delicate subject until I see her lips purse.

"No," she curtly replies, indicating the end of the conversation, and I did not press her further even though I wanted to know more.

I sigh as I stare at the swirled inked note, the information was so precious and important and it took me nearly a year to find it without any proper resources.

Walking up the the front door of the yellow coloured bricked house, I knock on the door twice and wait.

As I stand, I think of different ways to introduce myself. 'Hello, I'm Ryan and I'm the reason for your husband's death' wouldn't be the best way to open a conversation.

"Are you looking for the Volkov's?" the neighbor, a meek middle aged lady asks, peering from the wooden fence with her brown eyes full of curiosity as her dog continues to yap at me.

I look down and notice small flyers of 'For sale' gathered around the threshold. "Yes. Where can I find them?"

"After the mother died a year ago, the son left after selling the place to a real estate agent. I don't know where, he just packed his bags and left without a word. Poor boy, he was so young."

My heart sinks, listening to her words. The main purpose of staying in this small town was to find them.

"Do you have his number, perchance?" I ask, praying for a small glimmer of hope.

She shakes her head as she carries her black pup in her arms and strokes it, "I'm sorry, I have no clue."

"Thank you," I tell her before hopping on my bike to visit Leah.

Noticing her door slightly ajar, I walk in with dread wondering whether someone broke into her house, but breath in relief as I watch her doing her laundry.

"You should really lock your door," I say, making her spin around in surprise and fall face first to the floor.

"What? You nearly scared me there. I didn't even hear you come in."

Her breath becomes ragged as I hold onto her waist and her soft chest leans lightly onto mine. Sparks of electricity fly as I clutch her hip, the very contact making the hair on my arms stand.

I stare at her heated cheeks and smile inwardly, knowing that I'm the cause for her frazzled behavior. "I said, it's not safe to leave your door unlocked." I take a step back and ignore the want I have for her touch.

"Ah, I didn't?" she bites her lip innocently, making something stir within me.

"You shouldn't live alone," I lecture her, and proceed to help her with her laundry, clipping the pins on the clothes line as she hands me each dress.

I feel a lightly padded cloth and stare at the polka dot piece of intimate wear she unconsciously hands me before she freezes in realization and snatches it from my outstretched hands and hides it behind her back.

She looks so cute when she is embarrassed.

"Relax, I've seen a bra before," her face stiffens at my sentence. "My mother's," I quickly add before she gets the wrong idea.

When I was 6.

"You don't have a girlfriend?" she asks me, clearing her throat amidst awkward situation. I smile inwardly as I detect a hint of jealousy in her voice.

I stare at her, in her long pink nightdress with stains of peanut butter and jelly before answering, "No."

She looks surprised, "Really? How old are you?"

"26."

"You are a year older than me?" she laughs. "I figured you'd be older, considering how mature you act."

I fold my arms across my chest and raise an eyebrow. "Is that supposed to be a compliment or are you saying that I act like an old man?"

She shakes her head, "It's a compliment. Would you like something to eat? I have biscuits-" she offers, holding the wall for guidance as she tries to walk to the kitchen.

I take her hands in mine, "I'll get it." I say, making her sit on the sofa while I grab a pack of Oreos from the tabletop.

"The bruise is healing," I murmur, inspecting her neck and noticing the black blue bruise turn into a light shade of yellow.

"I have to thank you for that," she says as I sit beside her and offer her an Oreo before chucking one into my mouth.

She takes one and separates it, licking the cream inside before popping it in her mouth. I have never been so envious of a biscuit until now.

"What about you?"

Her brows furrow, "I used to, not anymore. I don't think I can trust anybody anymore."

I place my hand on her lap, "How about me? You don't trust me?" I ask.

The wrinkles on her forehead disappear, making her more relaxed as she smiles, "That's different, I trust you more than anyone else."

My heart swells at her words and I feel that I am losing control over my body as I lean in closer.

"Then trust me when I do this," I whisper into her ear before claiming her lips, an urge that I had wanted to satisfy from the very first moment I laid my eyes on her.

A/N:
What does Ryan mean by they?

Do you guys think he should have kissed her?😋

I'd like to hear your thoughts and theories.

Love -
Nikitha 🍖🍖
(Craving some chicken )