Chapter 20 Wistful Hearts
I returned to the classroom for a while, stepping back into my old routine, trying to convince myself and everyone else that everything was fine.
But once the academic year ended, I packed my things and moved in with Margot and Billy.
They welcomed me without a second thought, offering a home I hadn't realized I needed.
Before long, I was teaching again, this time at their school.
Living with Margot and Billy was comforting.
They wouldn't take a cent of rent from me—Billy actually laughed so hard at the idea he almost dropped a gemstone in his coffee.
But I couldn't stand just taking. So, I paid for groceries, little home things, and surprise gifts.
It made me feel less like a burden, more like I belonged.
Margot, of course, had opinions.
"You're not a tenant, Dec. You're family. Family doesn't pay rent. Family steals my shampoo, eats my cookies, and leaves wet towels on the floor."
"I don't leave towels on the floor," I protested.
Margot narrowed her eyes, dead serious. "Not yet. But I'm watching you. One slip and I'll bill you for emotional damages."
Billy chuckled from his workbench. "Ignore her. She just wants you to know she likes having you here."
"I don't like it," Margot shot back. "I love it. But if I admit that out loud, you'll get all mushy and make me do a group hug, and I have a reputation to uphold."
Living with Margot and Billy, slipping into the rhythm of their lives, and balancing my work as a teacher had been a gift.
Stability. Safety. For the first time in a long while, my feet felt planted on solid ground.
Their laughter filled the spaces in me that used to echo with loneliness, and my students gave me purpose each morning. On the surface, things looked good.
But deep down, the yearning for Ryder never stopped.
It lived in me like a second heartbeat—steady, unrelenting.
At night, he haunted me. I dreamed of his face, the rough edge of his jaw against my palm, the way his voice dropped when he whispered the words I had always ached to hear.
Sometimes I woke with the echo of his name on my lips, shame burning through me for still wanting him after everything.
Maybe in another life—one where we weren't so broken, one where timing hadn't been so cruel—we could have been whole together.
During the day, when I was alone, I caught myself scrolling through old photos, punishing myself with nostalgia.
There was one picture I could never bring myself to delete—him smiling at me like I was the only person in the world.
My chest would ache until it felt like something inside me might split, and silent tears slipped down my cheeks, unstoppable.
I would whisper a prayer into the darkness, asking God to let him be happy, wherever he was.
Then I'd force myself to put the phone away, wipe my face, and move on as if I hadn't just unraveled.
I even tried dating again. It was a disaster.
Coffee dates that ended in polite excuses, dinners where I sat stiff and numb, waiting for a spark that never came.
Every attempt fizzled out before it could even pretend to become something real.
I couldn't let my guard down. Couldn't let anyone close.
My love for Ryder sat there like a stubborn ember that refused to burn out, untouchable and impossible to extinguish. No one else even stood a chance.
I asked Jan about the trial, needing reassurance that things were moving forward.
She always told me it was going well, but I refused to hear anything about Ryder.
It was too raw, too dangerous for me to reopen that wound.
When I finally heard about the trial and the verdict, I cried.
But for the first time, they were tears of joy.
Ryder was free. Free and, I hoped, happy—flourishing somewhere far from the shadows that had once kept him chained.
That thought was enough for me, enough to let me breathe easier.
I was still lost in my thoughts when the knock came at the door. I assumed it was Lisa, our neighbor since her son was one of my students, and she often came by. I opened the door, already half-smiling.
But my smile froze.
Standing at my front door was the one person I had been both praying for and trying to let go of for nearly a year.
"Ryder?"
"Hi, Dec," he said softly.
My heart lurched. I slammed the door shut in his face and leaned against it, frozen. My palms pressed flat against the wood as if I could hold him back with sheer force.
Margot and Billy appeared almost instantly from the living room, alerted by the sound.
She arched a brow, "That better not be ! you know they blacklist people for that.""
"No, it is Ryder" Billy added, eyes kind but cautious. "We'll leave you two alone if you want to talk. He asked me last week if he could come by. I told him yes, but December, if you say the word, he's gone. We just thought... maybe it might help you with closure."
I couldn't find my voice. My throat burned, my chest tight.
"Just listen if you want," Billy said gently. "And if not... that's it. He'll leave."
My lips finally parted. "Okay."
I opened the door again. Margot and Billy exchanged a glance, then slipped away, leaving me alone with Ryder on the porch. It had been almost a year since I last saw him. Almost a year since everything shattered.
He looked... different. Thinner, his features sharper, more tired.
But still so heartbreakingly handsome—broad-shouldered, built like a sculpture, with eyes that had always been too kind for the mess of his past. He looked at me with hesitation, as if unsure if he was allowed to exist here, in front of me.
"I don't know where to start," he said, his voice rough. "I have so much to say."
I didn't speak. My silence pushed him forward.
"First of all, I need to apologize. Not just for lying, but for putting you in danger. It doesn't matter if I didn't mean it. It doesn't matter if I was broken. What matters is that I hurt the most amazing, kind, wonderful woman I've ever known. That's my cross to bear."
I swallowed hard, staring at him, at the tears gathering in his eyes.
"I want you to know that everything I ever said and every word I spoke at the gym was bullshit.
You are beautiful, Dec. So beautiful it takes my breath away.
You're the sweetest, most gorgeous soul I've ever met.
" His voice cracked, trembling with something closer to desperation than simple honesty.
"If you could see inside my heart, you'd know the place you hold there.
You'd see your name carved into every corner. "
My chest clenched so hard it hurt. I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. A part of me reached for his words like they were a lifeline, but another part pulled back, afraid of being pulled under again.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his head bowing like the weight of it was crushing him.
"I'm sorry if I added to the weight you already carry.
I know what you told me about your ex, how deep those scars run.
I swear, I never cheated, not once, but that doesn't erase it.
I still hurt you. I still made you doubt yourself, and that's something I'll always regret. "
His hands flexed uselessly at his sides, like he wanted to touch me but knew he didn't have the right.
"My words may not mean much," he continued, his voice unsteady, "but they're all I have.
December... I love you. I love you with every broken fiber in me, with every scar, with every fault I've tried to bury.
I love you with the mistakes I can't erase and the dreams I still cling to.
I love you in ways I never said, in ways I failed to show when it mattered most. And I know—God, I know—I lost the right to those words.
But they're still true. They'll always be true. "
His breath hitched, and he looked down, as though ashamed to let me see the tears streaking his face.
"I don't expect forgiveness. I don't even expect you to believe me.
But I hope, someday, you might let me prove it.
That I can earn back your trust, your love.
Even if it's just a sliver. Even if it's just enough to know I didn't destroy everything. "
He exhaled, trembling, "I'm finally waking up from the fog I lived in. Every day I realize how wrong I was. Every day I feel more remorse than I thought possible. I can't change the past. But if you let me, I will change the future."
The silence stretched, thick and fragile. He swallowed hard, then forced himself to keep going.
" I'm staying here, in the city.. Billy offered me work, said he'd take me on, but we agreed to wait because this isn't about me, or him. It's about you. What you want. What you need. That comes first. Always."
His hands trembled at his sides, then reached halfway toward me, hovering in the air like a man begging for touch but afraid of rejection. His eyes locked on mine, raw, unguarded, desperate.
"I love you, December. I love you with every ounce of me that's still standing, every piece that survived.
I'll say it until my throat gives out, until you believe it or until you tell me never to speak it again.
I'll accept whatever you decide. But I won't stop trying to make right what I shattered. "
His grip tightened around mine, desperate but gentle, like I was something holy he wasn't sure he had the right to touch.
His words cracked into a vow, splintering against the silence.
Between us stretched everything unspoken, betrayal and longing, ruin and hope, all tangled together, still alive despite everything.
Slowly, he lifted my hands to his lips, pressing a kiss into my skin as though he was sealing a prayer there. Then, before I could breathe, before I could speak, he turned and walked away.
I stood frozen on the porch, the echo of his touch still burning in my palms. My heart pounded so violently it rattled my ribs, so loud I thought it might break the night open. I didn't know if I wanted to run after him or collapse where I stood.
All I knew was that nothing inside me was still.