Wild Embrace (Wilder Irish #11) - Mari Carr Page 0,29

roughhousing, laughing. It had been one of the best afternoons the two of them had spent in ages.

“What are you saying, Darcy?”

“Hand off some of the easier stuff at work. Let someone else do it so you’re home earlier and more often. I’m afraid you’ll look back thirty years from now and regret working so much.”

Ryder considered her advice. The crazy thing was, he’d never been accused of working too hard before he and Denise married. He’d been an immature, party-’til-you-drop frat guy, who luckily was intelligent enough that hours and hours of studying weren’t vital to his GPA.

He’d met Denise in a local bar shortly after completing his MBA. She hadn’t attended college, but instead still lived with her parents and worked part-time at a local restaurant, waiting tables while raising her young son.

After they married, Ryder worked fairly long hours because he didn’t want to fail his family. Denise had wanted to quit her waitressing job to be a stay-at-home mom, something they both agreed was best for the kids. But that had meant it was up to him to keep them afloat financially. Even so, he’d still managed to be home for dinner most every night. Something he’d done less and less in the past few years.

“I’ve gotten into some bad habits,” he admitted. “I mean, I’ve always worked a lot, but I started working longer hours just before Denise died and then after, it got worse because…” Ryder rubbed his eyes wearily, debating whether or not he wanted to finish that statement.

Of course, Darcy didn’t give him a bye.

“Because?” Darcy asked quietly.

“Because I’d gone to a dark place. A really dark place, and I didn’t want Clint and Vince to see that.”

“Dark?” she whispered.

“I was depressed and angry and I couldn’t find my way back. I was terrified my feelings would rub off on the boys. That they’d sense my bitterness and rage and, I don’t know, feed on it. They both loved their mother, and I was struggling to shield…” He sighed and let it drop there.

“I get it.” Darcy could speak volumes with just her eyes. They expressed so many things, she never needed to speak. Right now, she looked sad, and he hated that he’d started this whole conversation.

She’d unlocked something in that elevator, and now he was spilling his guts to her at every turn like she was a priest in a confessional, or a shrink.

He wasn’t a talker—not socially, and sure as fuck not about his emotions. His mother had called him a stoic once, but she hadn’t meant it as a compliment. She’d used the word when comparing him to his emotionally distant, cold father. It was meant to sting. And it did.

“Leo was here and he was…he was in a better headspace, a better father.”

Darcy shook her head. “No. You’re both great fathers. Never say anything different. I won’t hear it.”

His lips quirked. There’d been precious little to smile about for so long that sometimes Ryder thought he’d forgotten how. But Darcy always managed to draw two or twenty smiles out of him whenever they were talking.

“Are you still in that dark place?” she asked.

He stroked his beard, wishing he’d kept his damn mouth shut. He hated talking about shit like this.

“Ryder?” she pressed, forcing himself to consider her question.

Was he in a dark place? It occurred to him if she’d asked him a year ago, he would have said yes without hesitation. But lately, he noticed the weight that had been crushing him since Denise’s death wasn’t there anymore. He wouldn’t call himself the happiest guy on the planet, but he wasn’t angry, or even hurt. It seemed somewhere along the line, he’d simply let all of that go.

Then he recalled the get-to-know-you game they’d played in the elevator. And tossing the football around with his son. And holding Reba just a few minutes earlier.

The last week had actually been…fun.

He shook his head. “No. I’m not.”

Darcy smiled. “Good. I’m glad. So you don’t have to avoid this house and the people in it by working all the time. It’s time to have a life. Start dating. I know this adorable brunette in the marketing department at work. I could totally set you up.”

He shook his head, even though her offer had definitely woken his libido. “Nice try, Buttercup.”

Darcy giggled. “I’m sure you didn’t mean that as a term of endearment, but I’m taking it as one anyway. Think about it. We could help each other out in terms