Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
Hayden
The lifts stopped spinning over an hour ago, and all the guests have long since left, headed for the parade no doubt. I should join them, if only so I’m not entirely alone on Christmas Eve. Somehow, I get the sense that would make me feel even lonelier than I already am.
I’ve never spent Christmas by myself. Back east, my job wasn’t too far from my childhood home, so even though holidays are the busy season I didn’t miss spending time with family.
This job is too far—too new—for me to make it back home.
I knew that in advance, so it’s not like I’m suddenly distraught over the fact that I’m by myself.
Seeing a bunch of happy families might change my perspective though, so hiding out at work feels safer than tempting my emotions. Plus, in here, I’m safe from him.
It's been two days since that kiss, and I’ve managed to be holed up in my office every time he’s passed through on his way to or from a lesson.
It’s not hard to do when I know the schedule.
Am I being a coward? Maybe. Am I ensuring we get through his commitment without any more unnecessary complications? Definitely.
Once Ryder fulfills his community service, just after the first of the month, chances are I won’t have any more contact with him.
He’ll either go back on the circuit and be traveling most of the time, or he’ll find some other job to do around town.
Either way, he won’t be walking through my door every day, and I expect whatever weird draw I have for him will fizzle out.
Glancing at the clock, I note the parade should be starting in twenty minutes, which means I could probably leave and make it to my apartment without running into anyone who might convince me I need to go.
I’m debating whether to risk it or wait another ten minutes to be sure when the front door lurches open.
I should’ve guessed Sloan would drag me with him.
Only it’s not Sloan in the door when I spin toward it. It’s Ryder.
“What are you doing here?” I blink over and over, trying to reconcile what I see. Two days. Two days without contact I was slightly prepared for, and he shows up now? Without warning.
Ryder’s eyes dart back and forth, never quite landing on me, as he rubs the back of his neck. “I’m riding with Max in the morning so I… I thought I’d check his gear to make sure it’s ready.”
Max isn’t scheduled until the afternoon, so he has time for presents in the morning, which means his gear doesn’t need to be looked at now. And we both know it. Feeling brave, or brave enough to be reckless with my words, I blurt out what he’s not saying. “You’re skipping the parade?”
“I’m not feeling very festive.” His gaze is focused on the floor as he shakes his head.
“What about your family? Why not spend time with them?” I regret the question as soon as I ask it—if anyone knows how difficult the holidays can be after you’ve lost someone, it’s me—but my brain and my mouth don’t appear to be on the same page.
“They’ll want to talk about Chase. I can’t handle that.” There’s a distant look in his eye as he speaks, making me wonder if he realizes he said that out loud. Before I know it, I’m reciprocating.
“Memories make you sad before they make you happy. In the beginning, anyway.” I hold my breath, waiting to see how he’ll react.
Always trying to fix people—damn, he’s got you pegged.
Ryder finally looks at me, jaw bobbing up and down as he tries to form words that don’t come.
“My cousin.” I answer his unasked question, giving him a piece of myself in the process.
Please, don’t let this be a mistake. “The one who inspired me to do this job. The first year sucked,” I offer a weak smile, “but around the third time my uncle shared one of his favorite memories I smiled instead of cried.”
“Fuck.” He drags a hand over his face. “I’ll never make three. I’m not ready for the first year. I can’t talk about him like he’s gone.”
“So, don’t. Maybe your first year is next year.”
“You got some sort of time machine?” He utters a humorless laugh.
“I’m saying you can decide when it’s the right time to talk about him. If you aren’t ready this year, wait until another time.”
Once again, his jaw moves without sound, though he manages a little up-nod to acknowledge he heard me. It gives me a clear view of the sadness on his face. The lost and confused direction of his thoughts. And I can’t ignore it.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.” I grab my coat off the hook and nudge him toward the door.
He shakes his head back and forth. “I’m not in the mood for holiday shit.”
“Who said anything about the holidays?” I push him outside and lock up. “I’m taking you to my place and we’re going to watch a movie. Something with lots of action and no Christmas stuff.”
“You don’t have to babysit me. If I wanted to get drunk, I’d have stayed home.
Besides, Max is expecting me tomorrow.” I secretly love that Ryder’s factoring his obligations tomorrow into his activities tonight, and I believe he’s telling the truth when he says he doesn’t plan to get drunk since he seems to genuinely like Max and I know he wouldn’t intentionally disappoint him.
But he’s not in the greatest place right now, which makes him unpredictable.
“Who said I’m doing this for you?” I roll my eyes for his benefit, but also to downplay the truth behind the confession I’m about to make. “I spend pretty much every night alone. Tonight, I want company. Even if it’s yours.”
I catch the slight uptick in his lip as he walks beside me, and my chest swells with the knowledge that I can almost make him smile.
“You could go to the parade.”
“With a bunch of couples and families? No thanks. It’s bad enough Sloan and the others are making me go to a ball by myself, I don’t need to tack the parade on top.”
“If you don’t want to go to the ball, then don’t. It’s not like you have to be there. Pretty sure I’m the only one getting forced into it.” He gives another humorless laugh.
I stop cold, closing my eyes to hide my embarrassment. “Shit. I forgot about the event being in honor of your brother. I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”
“Don’t apologize for being honest. You’re just about the only person who is.” His shoulders seem to deflate as he shoves his hands in his pockets.
“What does that mean?”
Ryder exhales deeply. “Pretty much everyone else pities me so they don’t say what they’re really thinking. Well, Deacon might have taken a few shots—” he rubs the back of his neck almost bashfully “—but no one else has called me on my bullshit.”
“What about Carter? He forced you onto the mountain, right?” He follows as I start walking again.
“Are you kidding? He bailed me out and is giving me special favors instead of getting pissed at me.”
“That’s not a good thing?” We pause outside my door so I can unlock it, and he reluctantly follows me inside.
“Maybe. I don’t know.” He shakes his head as I close the door. “I’m just tired of people treating me like I might break if they say or do the wrong thing. You’re the only one who doesn’t. Why is that?” He tilts his head to the side, studying me.
Stalling to choose the right words, I hang our coats by the door before turning to face him.
“It’s hard to be genuinely empathetic about something you don’t understand.
I don’t know what it’s like to lose a limb, or my sight.
So, I try not to treat the people who are going through that any different because it might come off as ignorant or insensitive.
And in your case, well, I have been in your shoes, and I know how frustrating it is to have people you’ve known forever suddenly look at you differently.
I figure you’ve got enough of that. Besides, most of the people I work with are way worse off than you, and they don’t break without special treatment, so I figure you won’t either. ”
“What makes you think I’m like them?” His voice is so soft I can barely hear it, and I know without having to ask he’s thinking about Max.
“You get the same joy out of riding they do. You seem to be fighting it, but I see it. Part of you wants to move on.”
Ryder shakes his head, lips pressed into a firm line. “That’s for Max, not me. He lost a fuckin’ leg, the least I can do it act like I’m enjoying myself when I ride with him.”
“Bullshit.”
“What?” His eyes narrow to little slits.
“You heard me. I call bullshit. You love being out there. You even had fun teaching me. I don’t know why you’re afraid to admit it but…”
“BECAUSE HE’S GONE.” The shout is so unexpected, I backpedal until I hit the wall. “He loved riding, and he can’t enjoy it anymore, so why should I?”
It takes me a moment to process his words, but once I do I scoff. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“What?” he seethes, chest heaving with contempt.
I’ve never been physically scared of Ryder, though I’ve also never seen him this close to the edge. I ball my fists at my side, ready to stand my ground. “By your logic I shouldn’t enjoy mystery novels because my grandpa who loved them died six years ago.”
“That’s not… You can’t compare an old man and my brother.”
“Why not?” I shrug. “They’re both gone, so that means I can’t enjoy the things they used to. They took it with them when they died, right?”
“It’s different,” he grits through a locked jaw as he leans into my face. “I should’ve been there. I shouldn’t be here.”
“But you are. If you can’t handle that, then go back to your bottle. Otherwise, stop hiding behind it and start living.” I’m pushing, but I get the sense after weeks of back and forth I’m getting through to him, and if I’m right, he might finally start to move on. He might let me all the way in.
Ryder slams his palm into the wall beside my head. “It’s not that simple.”