Chapter 41 Ryan
Ryan
I admire the curve of her glistening back, the shoulders littered with freckles. That arse. Her legs. The colour of her skin. I trace my finger along every imperfection, because I need to touch her: to feel the connection between us, to make sure she can still feel it. Can still understand it.
I have to imprint this moment into every corner of my mind, this longing to have her again.
This desperate desire to be with her.
I came here without knowing how it would end, hoping that she would want exactly what I wanted, but I had no expectations.
My imagination was nothing compared to what actually happened.
I never thought I could feel so happy, at ease – so secure – with a woman’s body laid out next to mine. With her body.
Not to mention the jokes, the little digs at each other, the laughter.
I’m seriously fucked.
Christine stirs, turning her head to the side.
“Are you staring at me?”
“Maybe a bit. Looks like you’re not the only maniac here.”
“Me, a maniac?”
“Yeah – you can’t stop staring at me, imagining… Well, is your imagination satisfied?”
She turns her whole body towards me, resting one arm under her head.
“I guess so.”
“You guess so?”
“You’re very confident, O’Connor.”
“Well, your moaning made it quite clear.”
She sits up suddenly.
“Bastard…”
I grab her arm before she can throw herself onto me.
We stay like that for a few seconds, each lost in the other’s sadness: because that’s what’s lingering over us now.
Doubt, unanswered questions. The knowledge that neither of us really know what just happened, or what it means.
I want to do it. I want to give myself to her a little more. To let her have the rest of me. To really kiss her, to feel her and let her feel me – but I can’t.
I’m scared. Scared that it’ll all be another lie, another failure. Another disappointment.
I slowly let go of her arm and she replaces it under her head, keeping a painful distance between us. But she’s doing it for me. I know that. And that makes me feel even more guilty.
“I should go…” I say, my heart heavy. “I guess Evan will be back soon, and you don’t want him to find me in your bed.”
She sighs sadly. “Yeah.”
I start to get up, but she grabs my arm.
“Maybe…maybe five more minutes? Just so that I don’t feel so worthless.”
“Is that how I make you feel?”
“Maybe.”
“I’m sorry… you’re not, Christine. I’ve never thought you are.”
She gives me a sad smile. “Then just stay for a bit longer. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I lean towards her and turn to face her.
“Christine…”
“Mmm?” she says, her eyes closed.
I can’t do it. It’s right there, on the tip of my tongue, but my mouth is sealed, my throat burning up. My heart is rebelling.
“You too, Ryan O’Connor,” she murmurs, half asleep, saving me from any more embarrassment.
I watch her fall asleep with a smile on her lips, relaxed and happy.
I brush the hair away from her face and trace her profile: eyes, nose, cheekbones, mouth.
I run my finger along her lips, and I’m suddenly overcome by an unbearable longing that I have to push down right away, or I’ll a huge mistake before anything can even happen between us.
I watch her for a while longer, trying to gather up the courage to leave with no regrets. But I can’t – it’s too difficult, this time.
I don’t want to leave her. I want to hope, to dream for just a little bit more, before I go back to reality and regain control of my thoughts and my feelings – because they can’t come out.
It can’t happen again.
I can’t turn back.
I can’t be that Ryan anymore.
The Ryan that someone else took away, the one that is being reconstructed piece by piece. But they’re pieces that I can’t fit together, not by myself or with anyone’s help.
Not even with hers.
Not even Christine can help me get back on my feet.
Not even Christine could love me, if she saw me for who I really was, day after day. If she really knew me, knew the kind of man I am and what lengths I would go to just to protect what I have: to protect myself from everyone, from everything.
From her.