Chapter 20 #2
She gave a vague shrug and chewed on a bite of her cheesy, vegetable-ladened eggs. When she swallowed again, she caught me waiting on a real answer and seemed surprised. Did no one ever look after her?
“It’s just life,” she finally said. “Sometimes it makes me tired.”
“Your hours would make anyone tired. It’s hard to get up so early, and by now you’ve been up for hours. And…” Tread carefully . “Your boss can be…difficult.”
She choked on the bite she’d just taken.
I clapped her gently on the back until she waved me off.
“I get the feeling you’re used to dealing with difficult people,” I said.
Her gaze flew to mine for a single beat before she mastered herself. “Isn’t everyone?”
“Some more than others.”
She looked away and shrugged again, smaller this time.
The gesture broke my heart. I could still see her scar, about an inch long, less pink now than it had been a month and a half ago.
As if she felt where my focus had gone, she put a hand to her jaw.
“Must’ve hurt,” I said quietly.
Another slight lift of one of her shoulders.
“I’m a good listener, if you ever want to talk about it.”
She busied herself, fussing with her display. Finally, she took a peek at me and found me still watching her. She sighed. “You ever do anything…stupid?”
“Only a million times.”
“Name one,” she challenged. “Other than having an”—she used air quotes—“ incident with a ladder.”
I laughed. “Rode a shopping cart in a half pipe with Caleb, went snowboarding with Tucker in our birthday suits, attempted wakeboarding behind a truck in a canal on the side of a road with Auggie driving—and he was a shitty driver. Oh, and one time all of us attached skis to a couch and rode it down a sand dune. I could go on…”
She gaped at me, looking caught between horror and amusement. “You went snowboarding naked?”
“Trust me, it was a one and done.” I winced at the memory. “Snow burn.”
She blinked and then laughed. “Ouch.”
“You have no idea.”
“You ever land in the ER?”
“Many, many injuries.” I shrugged. “Stupid is a one-word definition of a teenage boy.”
Her smile slowly faded. “Well, I wasn’t a teenage boy, but I made far worse mistakes, trust me.”
My gut tightened. “We’re talking about your last relationship.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “I’ve never been very good at relationships. I’m too busy and…well, I’m not that great at letting people in.”
I smiled gently. “Hello, Pot. Meet Kettle.” I pointed to myself.
She smiled, then drew a deep breath. “But bad as I am at relationships, I sort of fell into one more than a year ago now. It was lovely at first. He was charming and smart and successful.”
She went quiet a moment, and I held my breath, knowing I was going to hate what came next.
“But with those things,” she said quietly, “came a negative side.”
Yep. Hated it already. “He hurt you.”
She looked away. “It’s why I don’t date anymore.”
Anger was the wrong word for what coursed through my veins. Rage was better. Rage for her, at what she’d been through, at anyone who hurt others.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I hope you know it wasn’t your fault and that you’re safe here.” I’d make sure of it.
Her cheeks heated. “I know that being silent about this kind of thing gives it power, and I definitely don’t want to do that, but talking about it is hard.”
“I know.”
Her gaze came back to mine. I gave her a small smile. “I can’t tell you that the memories go away, but with some distance, they get a little easier to face. I know this because my mom stayed with my dad, for us kids, when she would’ve been safer running. But she never did.”
“She loved you too much.”
I nodded, and her eyes softened with the understanding that this terrible thing we had in common sometimes still haunted me too. Lifting a hand, she placed hers over mine, still on my chest.
“Are you safe?” I asked quietly, wanting to hear he was locked up, but knowing he probably wasn’t.
“I’ve got a restraining order.”
“Good.” I still hadn’t forgotten how she’d flinched from me over a month ago now, and what Nell had told me, how Penny had grown up watching the women in her life choose poorly in love. Or how whenever we danced around this, she wouldn’t hold eye contact, as if she was mortified.
But it was satisfaction shimmering in her gaze now, not regret or shame, and I wanted to tell her how proud I was of her.
I wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked standing there with her head held high, speaking her truths that pained her to her very core but were necessary in order to feel again.
“What you did, leaving, getting out, was incredibly brave.”
“I ran away and came back to Star Falls.”
“To take care of Nell and Wyatt.” I paused. “Do you want to go back?”
“No.” Her voice didn’t waver in its resolution. “Not even a little bit.” Her eyes searched mine. “I like what we have, Ryder. So much. Undefined and all.”
“And you think going out with me would define things in a way that scares you,” I said carefully. “In spite of the fact that we’ve gotten close, been intimate.”
“It’s not you I’m scared of.” Her hand slipped into mine. “I’m not,” she insisted, holding my gaze. “I’m scared of me, of my feelings, of trusting myself.”
I knew all this, and I could hardly fault her for feeling that way, but it left a little hole in my chest just the same.