Chapter 30 #2
She closes her clipboard, and she and Miranda stand, exchanging a few professional words about the next scheduled check-in. I stand too and shake Mrs. Rodriguez’s hand, and then Miranda walks her to the door.
I stay in the sitting room, looking at the photograph on the mantelpiece. The shot catches Ryder as himself. All the performance stripped away, and the decision to step toward the music.
I took that.
“Mrs. Rodriguez seemed satisfied,” Miranda says, walking back into the sitting room.
“I think so.”
“I love that one,” Miranda says, nodding at the mantle. “I wish he’d feel that at ease during every performance.”
“He seems very determined now that his parents are here.”
Miranda gives a small nod, as if that settles it. “Yes, it should be good motivation. Are you heading back to the library?”
“Yeah. Maybe he’ll still be in there.”
Miranda picks up her planner and walks toward the staircase. “Don’t let him talk his way out of the essay.”
When I get back to the library, I’m shocked to find Ryder still there. He’s at the far end of the table with the novel open and his tablet beside him, and he’s actually working.
He doesn’t look up when I come in, but the quality of his stillness shifts.
I take the chair across from him, fan through my notes on the table, and pull out the essay prompt.
Ryder closes the book on his thumb to keep his place. His eyes go to the doorway, and then to me.
“Where were we?” he says.
“We hadn’t started yet.”
He nods and opens his book again. I glance at his tablet, and I clock half a page of bulky paragraphs.
Ryder shifts in his chair. “So, who was here?”
I look up and find him still looking down at the novel.
“Social services,” I say. “A follow-up visit.”
He’s quiet for a moment, but then shuts the book and leans back in his chair. This time he looks at me. “Everything okay?”
I shrug it off. “Fine.”
“You didn’t tell me they were coming.”
“It wasn’t really your business.”
“No,” he says. “But I would’ve… I don’t know, been around or something? So you didn’t have to do it on your own.”
I look at him steadily. “Miranda was there.”
“Yeah, I saw that.” He glances toward the hallway. “What’s going on with you two? This morning in the hallway she was practically…” He searches for the word. “Counting on you?”
“We found an understanding,” I say.
Ryder deadpans me. “An understanding?”
“Yes.”
“Like, an actual one? Or did she decide your interests conveniently align with hers?”
“An actual one.”
He’s quiet for a beat, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table. “When did that happen?”
“Yesterday.”
His eyebrows lift. “Really?”
“Yes. We had it out with each other. I was ready to get emancipated and apply for college scholarships.”
Ryder turns pale. “You… you what? Since when did you… Why am I so out of the loop?”
“That was your decision, Ryder. I tried to apologize, and you iced me out.”
“I didn’t know social services were visiting you today,” he says in a lower voice. “I didn’t know someone was showing up to assess whether you’re okay.”
“It was a routine check-in,” I say.
“I know, but…” His hand drops to the table. “I should have known that. I live in the same house. I should’ve…” He shakes his head. “I could’ve been here. I could’ve at least been somewhere in the background so it didn’t feel like…”
“I wasn’t alone.”
He meets my eyes. “This time.”
“It’ll be okay,” I reply. “I found letters from my mom to Miranda. I know what went down between them.”
He sits forward. “How did you…”
I lift a hand, stopping him. “Don’t do this. You didn’t want to be involved in my family drama. Don’t go fishing now that things are calmer.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Ryder, I did all of this on my own. You don’t need to pretend to protect me.”
Ryder sits with my words, until he finally says, “You’re right.”
I swallow hard, backing up on my chair for extra room.
“I checked out,” he says. “The showcase, my career, it’s all I think about. I got scared, and I wanted to shut you out so I didn’t lose sight.”
The sting burrows through my heart. His career will always beat me. I’m not worth his time.
“I got scared because I like you so much,” he says in that raw, gravelly way that sends goosebumps down my limbs. “I didn’t plan on falling for anyone. I was scared I’d lose concentration. You were all I could think about when I was supposed to be talking about the band.”
I hold my breath, waiting for my brain to catch up to the words he’s said.
Ryder looks down at the table. “I’ve been a jerk to you.
You don’t know how much I wanted to meet up with you after the gig on Saturday night.
All I wanted to do was scoop you into my arms and tell you how much you mean to me.
But I went into that stupid VIP room. I had all those meetings on Sunday, when I should’ve been spending my time with you.
Watching TV, or cooking, or playing just for you.
I don’t care what we would’ve done, I just wish we had done it. ”
I grit my teeth, scared of what else he might say.
“I wish I had really listened to you on Monday,” he says, skidding his chair back.
The noise forces me to look up and meet his soulful eyes.
“I wish I had acknowledged what had made you so angry. I’d only known you to run and hide at school, but there you were in a rage.
I should’ve realized something terrible had happened.
But I just saw you taking everything out on me. ”
“I tried to apologize, but…”
“I know.” He sits forward, his hand reaching across the table. “That’s why I’m trying to apologize now.”
I keep my hands firmly in my lap. “And, what? I’m supposed to forget how you’ve ignored me the past few days?”
“That’s not really fair. You know I’ve been at rehearsals.”
“Don’t guess what I do and don’t know. You haven’t told me squat about what you’ve been doing.”
Ryder flinches, his eyes widening. “Sheesh. You have gotten fiery.”
I shrug. “Pandora’s out of the box. Get used to it.”
“I will,” he responds with a half-smile. “I dig it.”
I keep my frown ironclad.
“I should’ve said something in that hallway.” Ryder’s mouth tightens. “That preppy jagoff, Jasper. Should’ve knocked his teeth out for getting into your personal business.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does.” He looks at me directly. “You apologized for blaming me, but I didn’t accept it. I left you, and that’s not okay.”
“Yeah, it’s not what I expected, but we can’t take it back.”
“I don’t expect you to let me off easy.”
“I already let you off easy,” I say. “I came to the library this morning.”
He holds my gaze for a moment. “Yeah, you did.”
“I didn’t want to,” I admit. “I told Miranda repeatedly that I wouldn’t help you.”
Ryder’s hand plants firmer in the center of the table. “So, why did you come here?”
I look at his hand on the table, then at the notebook, and then back at him.
“Because I’m done letting other people’s bad behavior change who I am,” I say.
Ryder is still.
“You iced me out. Jasper made me a headline. Miranda was using me as a chess piece.” I keep my voice even.
“And I was about to emancipate myself from the only family I have left because of it. I was going to become someone I don’t recognize, and I’m not willing to do that.
” I hold his gaze. “So I showed up. Not for you, but for me.”
“That’s…” Ryder stumbles on the word. “That’s kind of incredible.”
I fold my arms. “Don’t make it weird.”
“I’m not. I’m just…” He looks at me like he’s seeing something he missed before. “You really don’t need anyone to save you, do you?”
“I needed my music box fixed,” I say. “I’ll let you know when I need anything else.”
The smile that breaks across his face is unguarded in a way I haven’t seen. Before I know if he’s about to cry or laugh, Ryder sinks in his chair and presses both hands flat against his face.
I can’t do it. I can’t melt for him.
I reach for his tablet and slide it across to me. I read over the essay he’s started. His make-up essay is about the town council in ‘What We Carry.’ He needs to make an argument for or against the idea that they’re the true antagonists of the novel.
“Your second paragraph is going to fall apart if you don’t address the heritage argument head-on,” I say, keeping my eyes on the screen. “You can’t build a case for the council without acknowledging what they’re asking the town to give up. That’s where Ms. Patterson will push back.”
“Huh?” Ryder lowers his hands, reorienting himself as he sees me reading his essay. “What do you mean?”
“Acknowledge the loss fully, and then make the case that their actions don’t change the story’s conclusion.”
“Okay. I’ll make the change.”
I set the tablet down with a sigh. “Do you really want to?”
“Huh?”
I slide the tablet across to his side of the table. “Earlier, with your parents, you seemed to make the argument that you’d get signed regardless of what happens at school.”
Ryder combs his fingers through his hair, sitting back in the chair. “Honestly, I wish I wasn’t enrolled. If I could, I’d just flunk out so I don’t have to think about it anymore.”
“You really hate school that much?”
“I don’t enjoy it. I spend every class thinking about riffs, lyrics, and compositions. I just want to be doing what I actually love.” He gestures at the tablet. “But I’m here because I want to show you I can make good on a promise.”
“Ryder, I get no kicks out of keeping you in this library like a prisoner. If you want to leave, just…”
“No,” he cuts me off. “I want to be here with you.”
I look at the tablet. At my notes. At anywhere that isn’t his face.
“That’s…” I shake my head and try again. “You can’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because we have an essay to finish and the showcase is tomorrow and…” I press my lips together. “I can’t think straight when you say things like that.”
Ryder doesn’t say anything, but he’s watching me with that same unguarded expression. The one I don’t have a defense for yet.
“The essay,” I say firmly.
“Right.” He pulls the tablet back toward him. “Heritage argument.”
“Heritage argument,” I confirm.
He starts a new paragraph and stares at it. I watch him think, the way his eyes go slightly unfocused when he’s working something out. I look back down at my notes before it becomes a problem.
“Can I ask you something?” he says.
“If it’s about the essay.”
“It’s not about the essay.”
I sigh. “Ryder.”
“Are you coming tomorrow night?” He keeps his eyes on the tablet. “To the showcase?”
I hadn’t thought about it directly. I’d been so focused on uncovering my past and finding my place in this house, I didn’t leave room for what happens after today.
“Miranda will probably want me there,” I say carefully.
“That’s not what I asked.”
I look at him. He’s still looking at the tablet, but his jaw has that particular tension that means the question cost him something to ask.
“Yes,” I say. “I’ll be there.”
He nods once, and the tension in his jaw releases. He starts typing.
I watch him for a moment longer than I should, then pull my notes closer.
“Ryder.”
“Yeah.”
“When you’re done with the heritage paragraph, you need a line that pivots. Something that holds the loss and the necessity in the same sentence without canceling either out.”
He thinks for a second, then types something and turns the tablet to face me.
“To mourn the church is not to condemn the council. It is simply to be human.”
I read it twice.
“That’s your conclusion,” I say. “Right there. That’s how you end it.”
He looks at the line as if he’s surprised it came from him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I slide the tablet back. “Everything else is just the argument that earns it.”
Ryder reads it one more time, then sets the tablet down. “Could almost be a song lyric.”
“You really can’t concentrate on anything but music.”
“Wrong,” he says softly. “When I try to concentrate on music, I think of you.”
I’m immediately flushed with heat.
“I’m going to be better,” he says with purpose. “I don’t want you to be afraid I’ll abandon you again.”
“I can stand on my own two feet.”
“Clearly. But I want to stand behind you in case your knees give out.”
I smile before I can stop it. The moment at the pond. The moment on the staircase. Every time he has caught me plays through my mind. “You’re good at that.”
He taps the tablet. “What about this? Is it good?”
“Yes, but actually submit it. I don’t want to do this a third time.”
“Sorry. I was preoccupied last time.” He smirks. “I had a cute girl all to myself, and the last thing I wanted to think about was schoolwork.”
Before anything else can be said, Ryder’s phone buzzes. He pulls it out of his pocket and stops an alarm.
“I’ve gotta go,” he mutters. “Rehearsals.”
Not letting my body react, I’m quick to say, “Submit it. No more edits, just submit it.”
Ryder uploads the essay to the school portal. “The spelling and grammar probably need work.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I say, standing up and pushing my chair in. “It’s done.”
Ryder is quick to stand and move to my side of the table. “Don’t go.” He latches onto my wrist. “Are we good?”
I look down at his hand on me. “Ryder, don’t.”
He lets go as if I’m made of something fragile.
“I heard your apology,” I say carefully. “But anyone can say sorry. Heck, I said it a bunch of times when I first got here, and all I got was grief for it.”
He steps closer, invading my personal space. “I don’t want you to be scared of getting close to me.”
I step back. “Tell yourself that. You literally told me you were scared of your feelings for me.”
“But I’m not taking them back.” He steps close to me again, and all I can see are the chains against his chest. “Ally, I’m so into you. It feels wrong to be apart from you.”
“All we’re going to be is apart. The more your career takes off, the more distance there will be.”
“Miranda will still be my manager. Aren’t you her new photographer? You’ll be with me wherever I go.”
“You forget something. I don’t hate school.”
He inhales sharply and cups the side of my face. “We can make it work.”
I frown and tilt my head away from his palm. “It’ll be too hard.”
“But you make me better.”
I step away from him, abandoning my materials for a faster getaway. “But I don’t know if you make me better.”
I’m through the hallway faster than I’ve ever moved. My heart is jackhammering against my ribs, and every gasp inflames my throat as I race up the stairs to the safety of my bedroom.