24. Ryan
24
RYAN
C arrie and I had a special moment last night, but this morning, it was all gone. All the closeness, the magic, even the feeling of being more in love than I've ever known. All gone.
I sat at my desk, staring out the window at the car lot, feeling numb. I could only blame myself for jumping in so fully with my heart on my sleeve. I'd known better than to let my emotions get carried away. Carrie was such a young beautiful woman with so much ahead of her. I knew how she felt about Evergreen Falls. I knew how she was so passionate about her career and seeing the world. I'd heard Walter talk about it for years. I also knew how much she respected her parents and what they’d say about all of this.
My heart felt like it'd been drained of energy and life. I couldn't concentrate on work. I had no appetite. I could only sit and stare blankly. The glimmer of hope I had was fading into nothing, and I was a husk of a man.
"Ryan," Marge said from my doorway, glancing over her shoulder as if making sure no one was listening. "Can I talk to you?"
My eyes swept across the room to meet her gaze, methodically searching her expression to discern what she might be thinking. I couldn’t tell what she wanted, but I doubted I wanted to hear what she had to say.
"Sure," I grunted, tearing my eyes away from the sunlight reflecting off the cars outside.
I leaned back in my chair but left my hand draped on my desk. I'd been running reports for our taxes again, but I knew I'd probably made mistakes. I'd been so distracted, someone would have to double-check my work. Which meant I'd have to explain to Sam why I was distracted, and that was another can of worms I didn't want to open. I'd have to think up a lie that was believable.
"Sir," Marge said, slipping into my office and shutting the door behind herself. "People are… Well, they're sort of talking about you." She crept over and sat in the hardwood-and-vinyl chair across from me with a wince on her face.
"And?" I asked, raising one eyebrow as I pursed my lips in frustration. I knew people were talking. I didn’t care.
"Sir, everyone watched you kiss that Bennett girl under the mistletoe the other night…" She pretended to care, but she didn't really. What she wanted was to make me squirm—or to find out more juicy details about what was going on to fuel the rumor mill.
"And?" I said again, still not giving a single fuck.
Her eyebrows both rose and she straightened her shoulders. "Well…" She paused and then cocked her head and leaned in. "I just think it's inappropriate, don't you think?"
There it was, her true motive. I said nothing, waiting for her to let the real snake out of the bag. I'd heard more gossip about myself in the past month than could last a lifetime, and none of it even bothered me. Most of it was true.
"Sir…" She scowled. "You're kind of old for that."
"Marge," I said, standing up, "I'd like you to leave my office now." My temper was flaring and my voice was already raised, and this time, I didn't care what people thought. I didn't care what they said about me or what rumors they'd spread. I was furious, and poor Marge was bearing the brunt of my poor emotional management.
"You can say what you want about me. You can spread rumors and gossip. You can even judge me, but I swear to God if you say one more negative thing about Carrie Bennett, this whole town will know about the time you had to go home because you peed yourself when you coughed because you had pneumonia. And when that rumor dies down, they'll learn how you flirted with the new guy and chased him away from the dealership."
I wasn't a gossip hound like her or the rest of this town and I didn’t relish the thought of telling people other people's dirty laundry. I'd just had enough.
Marge's eyes grew wide and her face blanched. She stood slowly and with perfect posture as she retreated from my office. I was fuming mad, my chest heaving, and I knew I should never have told her off like that, but all the building of anger and discouragement had me so upset, I didn't know how to function anymore. Carrie had rejected me, and right after I thought we'd connected so deeply. It was obvious to me that she wasn't in love with me, and I put my heart out there for no reason.
I was a fool and I knew it. A fool for thinking someone as perfect as Carrie—regardless of age—would ever fall for an idiot like me who couldn't function like a normal person. I sank into my chair and let my head hang. My heart was bruised and battered, and I'd taken it out on Marge, and I didn't even feel bad when I did it. But now, I felt like a total ass. Yes, she deserved it for being a gossip, but all it did was make me look foolish without context.
I buried my face in my palms and sighed hard. This thing with Walt's daughter was ruining me. I didn't know if I'd ever fall in love again. I didn't know if I could. Kate had captured my heart in different ways, and our divorce trashed me in ways I never knew I could be hurt. Then Carrie comes along and stirs emotions I refused to allow my heart to feel for so long. This hurt worse than Kate, the divorce, or even watching them lower her into the Earth.
A knock at my door had me perk up a bit. I thought maybe it was Marge here to apologize, but when the door swung open, I saw it was Sam. He hovered by the door hesitantly for a second.
"Get in here," I grunted, wishing he'd just have left me alone. He had to have heard all of that. The whole sales floor probably did. The blinds on my office were shut, as normal, but there was no mistaking when I shot my mouth off.
"You okay?" he asked as he walked in and shut the door behind himself.
"No, I'm not. And I don't want to talk about it." I leaned back in my chair and ran both hands through my hair and then across my face. I heard the chair groan as Sam sat down and inwardly, I winced.
"Ryan, we go way back. I've been your partner for fifteen years, or is it sixteen now?" I could already picture the look of chastisement on his face before I opened my eyes and looked at him. "What's going on? You're unhinged. You've never spoken to Marge like that before." Sam's voice took on a caring tone, and I shook my head in frustration.
I needed a friend to talk to. Normally, I'd have spoken to Walt about this, but he was definitely not the one I should be telling my dirty laundry to. The weight had just piled up on my chest, and without venting at all, the anger and heartbreak were consuming me.
"I need to tell you something in confidence…" I looked him square in the eye and clenched my jaw. Sam sat back in his seat and glanced at the door. It was shut. No one would hear what we had to say.
"Go ahead," he said, and he cleared his throat.
The minute I opened my mouth, everything poured out—my flirting with Carrie that turned into this wild fling, the fact that I'd fallen in love with her and Walt and Helen knew nothing, the rumors the town had been passing around. I left nothing in the dark, and to my utter shame, I even let a tear slip out. I was better than all of this, stronger too, and I'd been reduced to such a low mental state, I couldn't function. No other woman in the world had power over me like this but Carrie, and now she was walking away.
"She's been keeping me at arm's length now ever since Walter's second stay in the hospital, making excuses as to why she can't spend time with me. I get it, the town is talking, but?—"
"That girl has had more than her share of trouble, Ryan. She's only home to take care of her father. Maybe she's just spending time with him." Sam's eyebrows drew together in compassion, and I knew he was right. Things just felt so out of control. I didn't know how I'd ever feel okay again.
"When Kate left, I didn’t think I'd ever love again, Sam. Carrie is different. I can't lose her." I knew there was nothing Sam could do about any of this, but somehow, telling him did make me feel better.
"Take some time to just process things, man. Give her some space…" Sam stood and let himself out of my office, and while I knew what he said was probably the smart thing, it wasn't the right thing for me.
I had to talk to her or I was going to lose my mind. I just didn't want to push her to the point where she stopped talking to me entirely. How did I ever let this happen?