"Seasons Change"

By Sister Rose

Rated R

Chapter 19

The characters of "The O.C." belong to Fox, and no infringement of those rights is intended in this fictional work.

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She turned around to slap Seth, and he caught her arm.

"Temper, temper," he chided.

Summer bit her lower lip and lowered her eyes, darting them around to find an exit. The only one she could see was the door she had just walked through, and Seth was standing in front of it. Her breathing shortened and she felt her heart pumping harder in her throat.

Atwood spoke.

"Seth, what are you doing?" Atwood said.

She peeked up at him. He hadn't been sleeping. Good! Except it wasn't good. She didn't like to see Atwood looking tired. He worked too hard as it was. He didn't need more stress in his life. Not that she cared! No, it was none of her business now.

"I believe you and Summer have some things to talk about before the three of us can get on with being business partners," Seth explained. "I'm not having my friends be mad at each other. It's bad for business."

"What business is that, Dead Man?" Summer demanded. She wanted to scream at him, but it would embarrass her in front of Atwood.

"Our home renovation business," Seth said calmly, just as if he were speaking sensibly instead of spouting gibberish that should land him behind padded walls. "You for business and interior decorating, Ryan for construction and landscaping and me for ideas and financing. Together, we'll be unstoppable."

Summer opened and closed her mouth, no words in them. It wasn't that it was a bad idea, exactly, it just wasn't an idea she had thought of, and it was definitely an idea that would require her to be in Atwood's presence for more than 30 seconds.

"Summer," Seth said, looking down at her, long hair flopping in his eyes. "I know this probably seems like a dirty trick, but I swear I mean the best for you and Ryan. When you didn't return my 53rd message, I called Ryan, and he told me what happened. He didn't know I was bringing you here today, so this is just as big a surprise for him.

"Anyway, no one is leaving until everything is all straightened out. Let's all …"

Atwood interrupted.

"There's nothing that needs to be straightened out, Seth," he said brusquely. "Summer will be more comfortable if you use a different carpenter."

He rooted in his pants pocket and came up with a set of jumbled keys. He pulled one off and put it in the dust on a window sill by the door, not looking at either one of them.

"Good luck with your project."

He turned to go, eyes down, blond head slumped. Just like in the old days.

Summer couldn't think of a single time when Atwood had ever interrupted Seth. Probably still thought of him as the son of the boss, just like he probably still thought of her as the untouchable daughter of the boss.

Atwood had enough confidence to interrupt Seth but not enough confidence to believe that she could believe him or to believe that Seth would choose him over her. He was willing to walk away through the shoots of sunlight streaming the dirty windows, away from the possibilities and away from a future that could take him out of his dead-end life.

The idea made her sad. In four years, nothing had really changed. They were all still stuck in a place that they couldn't seem to get out of, in habits that they couldn't kick. If things were going to change, they needed to change now, not later.

Well, she was strong enough to believe enough for her and for Atwood – her Ryan. She was Summer Roberts, and she didn't let her man walk away from her.

"Stop," she called out, before she was aware that she was going to say anything at all.

Ryan stopped, but he didn't turn around.

"Seth's right, Ryan," she said. "We have to talk. I'm sorry I yelled. I was just surprised."

He turned around slowly, caution showing in the tightness of his jaw and lips.

Summer turned to Seth.

"Thanks," she said. "Now get out. I have to talk to Ryan alone."

"No way," Seth said. "You'll screw it up."

"No, I won't," Summer said, stung. "I promise to call if I need help, OK? Just go sit in the car."

Seth looked at her for a long time, then took her head between his long hands.

"Don't screw up," he warned her, kissing her on the forehead. He left.

Summer barely noticed. She had turned back to Ryan, who was standing with his arms crossed over his chest. His broad, strong chest that she wanted to lay her head on and repose on in comfort for all her days, secure in the knowledge that she finally had a man she could rely on to protect her and defend her with all the strength in his body and all the strength in his big, big heart.

Wow. Poetry.

Well, if that poetic stuff was going to happen, the two of them needed to have a long, serious talk. Right now.

"I love you, Ryan," she said. "Why didn't you tell me about your daughter?"

His deep blue eyes X-rayed her heart like a living MRI machine, and she stood still for the procedure, waiting for the doctor's judgment. When Summer saw that the decision had been made, she sunk down onto the stained, grimy blue carpet and leaned her back against the wall by the door. Ryan sat down beside her, their arms touching, their eyes looking into the blankness of the empty house. Ryan's words echoed slightly and he spoke quietly.

"I don't have a daughter," he finally said, slowly. "Theresa has a daughter, but I was in juvie when she …"

Ryan waved a hand and grimaced in embarrassment.

"I'm not the father. Anyway, when I went back to Chino, I moved in with Theresa's mom and slept on the couch for a couple of months and started getting to know Edwina. I moved out, but when Arturo was arrested for selling dope, I moved back in to take care of the house and help with the bills and all.

"I owed them that much, you know?" Ryan turned his head to check Summer's reaction. She nodded. He turned his head back out into the empty room, but Summer kept her eyes on his profile, watching his lips move.

"Anyway, when I moved back in, Edwina needed someone and she started liking me," he went on. "I started calling her my girl, and she started calling me her Tio Ryan, and that's what you heard Theresa talking about. She was telling me that my girl wants to see me."

Summer's mouth went into an "oh" shape, but no sound came out. Theresa's words floated into her head, "Tu nina te quiere." That meant your girl wants you, not your daughter misses you. She was an idiot. A gringo, no-Spanish-speaking idiot. And she should confess that right now. She looked away.

"I'm sorry, Ryan," she said, a hitch in her throat. "I didn't understand what she said. And then I saw her with her hands all over you, and I thought you were sleeping with her. I just got jealous and scared and wasn't thinking about how you wouldn't cheat on me. You're not like that."

"I know you didn't understand everything. I started to tell you the truth, and then I realized that it was a good reason for you to dump me, and I thought you'd been looking for one."

He paused. Summer listened to the long silence before his gulping "Do you really love me?"

Summer nodded. She still couldn't look at him.

"I've never said it to a woman," Ryan said. "But I … love you, and I want you to be happy. I don't … I thought you were just bored and I was an old habit."

Summer shook her head, unsure what to say.

"I – Ryan, what do you need to hear from me to be sure that I'm in this for the long haul?" she said forlornly. "I want to say the right thing."

Ryan touched her arm.

"Say my name again," he said. "That was the right thing."

Summer brushed away tears. When had they started falling? Ryan's arms crept around her, and he dropped a light kiss on the nape of her neck, just under her hair.

He worked his way up to her ear along her hairline, dropping gentle kisses like raindrops. He nibbled her lobe, teasing it between his teeth.

Summer turned around to face him, stripping off her sorority shirt in one move and diving toward the hollow in his neck, the warm spot where she could feel his pulse and taste his sweaty skin.

"Ryan," she said.

She pushed his work shirt off his shoulders, and he shrugged out of it, licking the underside of her chin. He hadn't shaved, and his stubble raked against her skin as she breathed in the familiar-unfamiliar-Ryan smell of a working man who loved her.

"Ryan," she said.

She grabbed the bottom of his undershirt, bunching the soft cotton in her fists, and pulled it over his head and behind his back, trapping his hands. She fell backward onto the nastiest carpet she had ever seen in her life and let its dirty shag scratch her naked skin.

"Ryan," she said.

He followed her down to the carpet, his hands still behind his back. His mouth took her bra strap from her shoulder down her arm and he licked from her underarm across the clavicle bone to her throat.

"Ryan," she said.

He copied the move on the other bra strap, then started tugging on the cups, eventually finding his way to the center, where he suckled as if seeking comfort from the world.

"Ryan," she said.

She released the undershirt, and he threw it across the room. Her hands were empty, so she grabbed his hips and pulled him closer, feeling the tightness in his jeans. He moved his mouth to her lower lip, sucking it in until he had to stop to breathe. She lifted her chin as he started nuzzling down the center of her throat. The room smelled like mold and dirt and she could see cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling. Ryan's lips reached her breastbone and she sat up, pushing him away.

"Ryan," she said. "Ryan."

Her hands went to his jeans and started unbuttoning. His hands joined hers, finishing the job. He pushed his pants down around his boots and reached for her waist, pushing her shorts and panties down to her ankles. She kicked them aside along with his sandals and touched his shoulder, forcing him back to the carpet.

"Ryan," she said.

Summer felt her knees dig into the horrible shag as she placed her body on top of Ryan's, laying her head in the center of his warm chest. She licked for a moment, tasting salt and skin, then found an urgent rhythm. She didn't care that she was dirtier than she had ever been or that crumbling drywall was drifting through the airless room onto her back or even that Seth was just outside in the car, waiting for her. She cared about only one thing.

"Ryan," she said. "Ryan."