19. Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
Ryan
I ’m dead on my feet as the car pulls up to my house. Changing my return flight was a bitch. I managed to snag a seat on an evening flight, so I sat waiting in the airport, kicking my heels all day. During that time I called Aspen countless times, but not a single answer. There were calls and messages, but they were from Hadley. I kept declining her calls and deleting her messages, but she wouldn’t stop, so I blocked her number. The return flight felt endless, and I was so keyed up, willing the hours to go by quicker, I couldn’t sleep.
One would think I’d downed a bottle of Jack by the way I’m stumbling, but I’m guessing four days without sleep will do that to you.
I blow out a breath laced with exhaustion and relief that I’m finally home, handing the driver some cash as I get out of his car. I hoped Aspen would be home, but that’s wishful thinking. She’s at work, so I have a few hours to get myself in shape before she gets home. My first instinct is to rush to her work, but it’s better that I don’t. She’s upset with me and she won’t appreciate an audience for the talk—no the apology—I owe her. Also, I’m still in the same clothes I was wearing when I left home. I’m dirty. I reek. And I haven’t shaved or washed my hair since the morning I left.
Walking into our home is like a balm to my soul and a tiny bit of the stress that’s kept my body locked tight eases. All I need to feel better is to be here. Our Place. Our home. Before Aspen, it was a house. Then she moved in, and I swear she’s magical because just like that, she turned it into a home. Or maybe it’s just her. It’s not a place that’s a home. It’s her. She’s my home. Fuck, I’m getting sappy. I need to sleep.
I head straight to the bathroom, not bothering to unpack, and jump into a piping-hot shower. It’s only once I’m standing at the bathroom sink, shaving, that I start to notice things.
There’s only one toothbrush in the glass holder attached to the wall.
The square woven basket that holds her hair ties and clips is gone.
I drop my razor in the sink and bend, jerking open the cupboard under her sink. Yes, hers. The sink and cupboard on the right are hers. Same with the bed. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always taken the left. I don’t know why, I just do.
I remember once teasing Aspen about the romance novels she loves to read. She was so engrossed in her book she didn’t notice me reading over her shoulder. She jumped almost a mile high when I chuckled in her ear and said, “A heart skipping a beat is not a sign of love. It’s a sign you’re having a heart attack or a panic attack.” And I stand by that statement because, for the second time in as many days, I feel like I’m having a heart attack. I’m staring at empty space. A shelf that’s supposed to be filled with cream—body cream, hand cream, face cream, eye cream, every fucking kind of cream you can think of—is empty.
I’m vaguely aware of shaving cream slithering down my neck as I bolt back to our room. The heart-skipping feeling intensifies when I notice the empty bedside table on her side. Her Kindle is missing from its usual place. Unless it’s charging, I think, but the hope trying to sprout withers when I see her phone isn’t there.
“That’s okay,” I mutter. “She could have forgotten to charge her phone last night and taken it to work.”
I spin around, reluctance heavy in every bone of my body, and stare at the closet, beckoning to me like a game show host, telling me to pick a box. If I pick right, I can win a million dollars, but if I pick wrong, I’ll end up with nothing.
Berating myself for being a pussy, I square my shoulders, stride forward and fling open the door. In my mind, I hear the audience let out a collective gasp of despair. It’s gone. Everything is gone.
The rush to my car is a blur. Buckling my seatbelt, I freeze and stare in bafflement at my cock. What the hell? I’m still in my towel. Which has fallen open and I’m naked. I’m about to rush to Aspen’s work completely naked.
Muttering every kind of profanity I can think of, I rush back into the house, towel forgotten in the car, but my feet skid to a stop when I see Dan the Man’s spot empty. I don’t know why, but of all the punches I’ve been getting these past few days, seeing him gone is somehow the worst. Bending forward, I put my hands on my knees, gasping for breath. I don’t care that my ass is sticking out, ass-crack on display, or that if I open my eyes, I have the perfect view of my cock. I just need to breathe.
A loud shriek rends the air, and I whip up, whirling around.
“What the fuck, Ryan?” Rose yells, her face a mask of horror. “My eyes,” she moans, clapping her hands over said eyes. So damn dramatic.
“Rose, I’m so fucking glad you’re here,” I say, rushing towards her, but another shriek stops me in my tracks. I shudder, rubbing my ears, but damn, the ringing doesn’t stop.
“Get that dangling thing away from me,” she shrieks again, although I don’t know what her problem is. Her hands are clamped so tight over her eyes there’s no way she can see anything . “For the love of everything holy, go put on some clothes.” Her words come out as a sob, and I see an opportunity. I take a step closer to her and she takes a step back. How the fuck is she seeing me move?
“I’ll go put something on if you promise to be here still when I get back.”
She nods so fast, she almost gives herself whiplash. “I’ll promise you my firstborn. Just go,” she moans, wiggling her elbow in a “go, go, go,” motion.
In a flash, I’m in my room, and not even a minute later, I’m back in the kitchen, relieved that Rose is still there.
“What the hell, Ryan,” she mutters. “Did you start naked yoga or something?” She’s making it a point not to look at me. Any other time I should be embarrassed by my sister getting an eye full, but right now I can’t be bothered.
“Dan the Man’s gone,” I say.
“What?” The look she’s giving me clearly says I’ve lost my mind.
“You know. Dan,” I repeat, waving towards the windowsill.
Her voice lowers, her tone getting more serious. “I don’t know who that is.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I mutter impatiently, running my hands through my hair. “He’s not here, which means Aspen took him. Which means Aspen’s left.”
“Ryan, when last did you sleep?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Why the hell is she not getting it? Aspen left. That’s all that matters. “Where is she? She won’t answer any of my texts or calls. You’re one of her best friends. You know where she is.”
“She’s at work.”
“I know,” I shout, slamming my palm against the kitchen counter. “But when she’s not at work, where does she go?”
Rose’s shoulders heave with a sigh.
“You know what? Forget it. I’ll go over there.” Mumbling to myself, I look around, trying to figure out what I did with my keys. I spot them lying on the floor.
“Ryan, stop,” Rose says, darting in front of me. What the hell is up with people trying to stop me? “She doesn’t want to see you.” Her words are soft, laced with pity, but it’s more effective than the hand she’s placed against my chest.
“What?” My words are just as soft as hers.
“She doesn’t want to see you.”
“She said that?”
My eyes are willing her to laugh and say, “Just kidding,” but she nods in a barely there movement. It’s enough to take the wind out of my sails. Unresisting, I let her take my hand and lead me to the couch.
“So she left me?” It seems that I need this spelled out to me because there’s no way I can picture my Aspen not wanting to see me.
“You took Hadley on a honeymoon. What did you think was going to happen?” Her words are dry, the sympathy and pity from a few moments ago nowhere to be found.
“It wasn’t a honeymoon,” I grind out. “It’s a holiday I promised her years ago.”
“You promised her a honeymoon years ago.” I stare at her. Damn, she’s insufferable. “You might not have seen it as a honeymoon, but everyone else…” She shrugs.
“Fuck, Rose,” I breathe. “I was just trying to do right by Hadley.” Which I now know was a colossal mistake.
“And in the process, you did wrong by Aspen. You hurt her.”
I clench my eyes shut, rubbing at my chest. Damn, that hurt. Aspen is hurting and I’m the cause of it. Just the thought of it makes me want to rip my heart out and stomp on it. Stupid. So damn stupid.
“I know,” I groan. “How is she?”
“How do you think she is?”
“Please. Just give me something. I need to know that she’s safe.” I’m not above begging at this point.
“Do you think you deserve to know anything?” she asks, one brow raised.
“You don’t need to be a bitch,” I mutter. “You’re my sister.”
“And Aspen is my friend. I’m ashamed to call you my brother right now.”
My head bows in acknowledgment because there’s not much I can say to that.
“Aspen asked me not to say anything,”—she holds her hand out when I open my mouth to argue—“but because you’re my brother, and because I love you, even though you’re the world’s biggest, most stupidest, blindest idiot, I will tell you that she has a place to stay. She’s safe.” She shrugs. “More than that, I can’t say.”
“What am I going to do?” I moan, dropping my head in my hands. A future without Aspen in it is inconceivable.
“The first thing is to get some sleep. You’re dead on your feet. After that, I don’t know,” she says, shrugging helplessly. “Where is the bitch, anyway?” she says, looking around.
My head jerks up and I stare at her in surprise. She’s known Hadley almost as long as I have.
“Sorry, not sorry. She’s always been way nicer to you than me, and Aspen is one of my people.”
“I don’t know. I left her there.”
“Finally! Something you’ve done right,” she says, standing up and flicking me on the head. “I have to get to work. Do yourself a favor. Don’t do anything rash. Get some sleep and after that, plan on how to dig yourself out of this hole you’ve launched yourself into.”
I nod because she’s right. My girl is stubborn, but I’m determined. I’m sure if she gives me a chance to explain, we can sort out this shit show and go back to the way we were.
Cursing at the universe that’s conspiring against me, I slam my car door and stride to the entrance of the animal hospital. Aspen always comes in an hour before they open, and I’d been hoping to catch her then. Before her day started. Despite how tired I was, I struggled to fall asleep. My mind was consumed with what I was going to say and how I was going to fix this.
It wasn’t just that. Our bed felt cold and lonely without Aspen in it. I missed her. I missed being able to wrap myself around her, being the big spoon to her little spoon. Missed nuzzling my face in her hair and breathing her in. Her pillow still held some faint traces of her scent, so by the time I crashed, I was clutching it against me, inhaling as much of her as I could. Is this how she felt the nights I spent in the apartment? The thought of it has me wanting to melt into the bed with regret.
Once inside, I make a beeline for Piper, who’s seated at the reception desk, typing away at something. My step falters when her friendly smile fades when she spots me. I’ve always gotten on well with Piper, but by her reaction, it’s obvious that’s not the case right now.
“Hello, Piper.”
The look she levels at me is decidedly frosty. “She’s not here.”
I take a deep breath, my fists clenching at my sides. “Come on, Piper. I know she is. Her car’s in the lot.”
She shrugs and looks back down at her computer, resuming her typing and dismissing me.
“I know I messed up,” I try again, “and I know you’re looking out for her, but I love her and I’m desperate to see her.”
Her head whips up. “You love her?” She snorts and then carries on, flaying me with her words. “You don’t make the person you ‘love’ cry. You don’t prioritize another woman over the woman you ‘love’.” She widens her eyes. “Ever,” she says slowly as if she’s talking to a third grader.
Anger surges through me. This is between Aspen and me, and I’m already feeling like a piece of shit. I don’t need anyone else pointing out how much of one I am. The only one who has a right to do that is Aspen. But I beat it down. All she’s doing is being a friend to Aspen, and my back’s already against the wall. Fighting with Piper will only make everything worse.
“Please, Piper. I need to fix this, and I can’t do that if I can’t see her.”
“Told you. She’s not here.”
I sigh. This is not getting me anywhere. “Then I’ll just wait till she gets here,” I mutter, and park my ass in the waiting room after throwing Piper a filthy look.
The minutes tick by and I get lost in my thoughts, my eyes glued to the door that leads to the examination rooms. She’s the one who collects patients from the waiting room, so surely she’ll be out soon. Patience, Ryan. Patience. I shoot up straight when the door opens, but deflate when it’s not Aspen but her boss, Julia. The greeting on my lips dies when the look she gives me is brief and impassive. Shit, okay. Seems like another person whose shitlist I’m on.
It’s sometime after the lady with the golden cocker doodle—I can honestly say that I’ve gone from not knowing the breed exists to being an expert on them in the last half hour—has taken said golden cocker doodle to the examination room, that the door opens and Aspen steps out. I’ve been aching to see her, and the sight of her is like a shot of adrenaline to my system. I jump up from my seat and take the steps covering the distance between us.
“Aspen.” Her name is a prayer on my lips and I reach out to touch her. She takes a step back, recoiling from my touch, her arms folded protectively around her middle, and I swear I can feel the dagger slicing into my heart.
“Not here,” she says, and I’m helpless to do anything but follow her, even though it feels as if I’m being led to my execution. Her back is stiff and her whole body radiates an aura of aloofness when she finally stops and turns to me. Her eyes meet mine for a second before she looks away, focusing on something behind me. But that one second is enough to tell me just how screwed I am. In the time we’ve been together, I’ve seen many versions of Aspen. I’ve seen her happy, angry, sad, playful, filled with lust for me, and my personal favorite—every time she looked at me with love and tenderness. What I’ve never seen is this look of…nothing. This is a version of her I don’t know.
“Baby,” I whisper, my eyes greedy as they take in her face. She looks tired, her eyes rimmed with dark circles that should never have had the opportunity to grace her face.
“I don’t have long,” she says, still not looking at me.
“I’m sorry.” The need to touch her is so intense I have to fist my hands. I never thought there’d come a time when she’d shy away from my touch, and just the thought of it fills me with a haunting sense of loss. “I should never have gone.”
She shrugs, still not looking at me. “It was obviously important to you. What are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn’t you still be lying by the beach, sipping cocktails?”
I open my mouth to answer, but she cuts me off. “It doesn’t matter. Why are you here?” she asks, finally meeting my eyes, and I almost wish she didn’t. Her eyes are shuttered, giving nothing away, like a door that’s been slammed shut, keeping me firmly on the outside.
“You left. All your things are gone.”
“And?”
“Why?”
“You’re not seriously asking me that?”
“We discussed it. I thought you understood why I had to go. I thought you agreed with me.”
A car pulls into the lot, catching her gaze. We watch in silence as a woman gets out, opens the back door, and takes out a cat carrier.
When she disappears into the building, Aspen turns back to me. “No. We didn’t do any discussing and agreeing. That would imply both parties stating their point of view and coming to a mutual conclusion. That didn’t happen.” She glances at the door again. “Look, I have to go. It wouldn’t do to lose my job on top of losing my home,” she mutters, already turning away from me.
“Aspen. Wait. Please.”
“What, Ryan? What do you want?” she calls out, frustrated.
“A conversation. That’s all. Please. You owe me that.”
Her spine stiffens. “All I owe you is a goodbye,” she hisses.
“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. You don’t owe me anything, but I’m begging. Just one conversation.”
She stares at me for a few seconds before nodding. “I don’t see the point, but if a conversation is what it’s going to take to put this to rest, I’ll give you that.”
I’m nodding before she stops talking, my heart pumping with both dread and relief. All the signs are there. She’s made up her mind that we’re over, but I’m getting the chance to talk to her. To explain. To convince her of how much I love her, despite my poor choices. To convince her to give me another chance. To give us another chance.
“Thank you. How about we meet at seven? At our…my…the house.”
The concept that it’s not our house is so foreign to me that I stumble over my words.
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m busy this week. We can meet on the weekend. I’ll text you where.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to demand what’s keeping her busy this week, but I’m already on thin ice and the look on her face strongly discourages me from doing so.
But fuck, the weekend is four days away.