Chapter 17 #2
“She’s my only living relative,” I utter as my nerves fry. “She should care.”
Ryder lifts my sandwich from his lap and sets it on the table. “All I’m saying is...”
“Save it,” I cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“You’ll drive yourself crazy waiting for that woman to care about anyone besides herself.”
I roll my eyes. “She cares about you.”
“She cares about me being successful so that she’ll look successful. She’s using me, and I’ve accepted that. So I use her back.”
“That’s horrible.”
“That’s life. She doesn’t care about you, so stop caring about her.”
“No!” I slam a fist on the table. “I want a family. She’s my family.”
“But she’s incapable of loving you.”
The tears finally roll down my cheeks. “But I want her to.”
His lips press into a line, and there’s a gentleness to his expression. “She’s not going to replace your parents. She’s not a caregiver.”
“I don’t want her to replace them.” I hiccup a sob. “I just want her to want me.”
“She wasn’t in your life for a reason.”
“A reason you won’t tell me about.” I swipe my hands across my wet cheeks. “My mother is gone! I’ll never get answers on what’s left of my messy life.”
“Your mom would want…”
“She’s dead!” I snap. “She’s gone because I’m horrible. I’m the one who faked being sick and made them waste time.”
“Ally, it’s not your—“
“It is my fault! They’re dead because of me.”
Ryder pushes his chair back and steps around to my side of the table. Before I can recoil and ask what he’s doing, his arms are around me.
“But I…”
He squeezes me in his embrace, halting any further words from escaping me. I suck in a breath, soothed by his closeness. I’m about to cinch my arms around him when realization dawns on me.
“Oh, no.”
“What?”
I grimace, pulling away from him. “Your sweater.”
“Ugh. No.” He pulls away, and sure enough, the food stains on his sweater have smudged onto mine. “Oh, crap. I’m sorry.”
A laugh mumbles out of me as his arms leave my sides. “It’s okay.”
My laughter rises in volume. I rest my forehead in my palm, and my body convulses.
The hysteria bubbles in my gut, and I let it take me.
My hand moves over my mouth, but the laughter keeps pouring out.
Tears blur my vision, and they make me smile more.
I have no idea why I’m laughing, and it just makes me laugh more.
I hug an arm around my waist, and there’s a pain in my gut.
I gasp for breath and hiccup another laugh.
Ryder rubs a circle on my back as I lean over the table, my laughter subsiding.
“You good?” he asks, and I hear the smile in his voice.
I hiccup a final laugh and murmur, “Mm-hmm.”
Ryder pulls out the seat beside me, still rubbing my back. “How long has it been since you laughed?”
I rest my head on the table and look up at him. “No idea.”
His eyebrow arches as he grins. “Feel good?”
I nod with my cheek pressed against the mahogany surface. “Mm-hmm. Especially after tossing my food at you.”
“Oh, that felt good, did it?”
I sigh, closing my eyes. “Oh my gosh. So freaking good.”
Ryder laughs, adding extra pressure to the circle on my back. “Glad to hear it.”
I keep my eyes closed, enjoying the sensations on my back.
“It’s good to see you smile, Ally.”
I open my eyes and watch the details in his expression. “Why are you calling me that?”
His hand lifts from my back. “What?”
“Since when have you started calling me Ally?”
“Oh, I didn’t realize…”
Why did I say anything? I want his hand to be on my back again. It was so soothing.
His jaw rocks. “Do you hate it?”
I’m quick with, “No.”
Dang. His hand isn’t back there. Can I just ask him to put it back? Would that be weird?
His hands clasp on the table beside me, and I resign to the fact the back rub is over. I lift my head and smooth a hand over my hair as I sit back against the chair.
“I don’t know why I called you it,” Ryder says, twirling his thumbs. “It just came out.”
I clear my throat. “Well, I don’t hate it.”
“Did anyone else call you Ally?”
I shake my head. “No, never. My parents would call me Sprout. But other than that, no nicknames.”
Ryder’s smile brightens his face. “Sprout. That’s cute.”
I flinch. “Don’t call me it.”
“I wasn’t gonna. It’s your parents’ thing.”
“Okay good, I just…”
“I’ve got things with my parents too. Like, things that are only said and done between us.”
There’s a flutter in my stomach. “Like what?”
Ryder sits back, folding his arms and letting his eyes wander to the view outside the window.
“Oh man, a memory just came back to me. When I was little, we’d play this stupid game on road trips.
We’d make up songs, and whatever the last word someone sang had to be the first word the next person sang.
Geez, they were terrible. It always got so out of tune with the most ridiculous lyrics.
” He turns his head, his eyes meeting mine. “But we’d always end up in hysterics.”
An easy smile relaxes my body. “Aw. That sounds so nice.”
Ryder points at my copy of ‘What We Carry.’ “Should we move on to studying?”
I breathe out hard, sliding down in my seat. “Do we have to?”
“No, we definitely do not.” Ryder chuckles, relaxing in his seat. “But, just because you threw your food at me, doesn’t mean you’re getting out of eating.”
My eyes fall on the deconstructed sandwich on the table, and my mind wanders to thoughts of Miranda’s fridge. “You know, I have an impulse to do something. Do you want to come to the kitchen with me?”
His eyebrow arches, and there’s a softness to his features. “Sure. I’m game.”