Chapter 20 Griffin
GRIFFIN
Ilay in the darkness of my room, blackout curtains keeping out the sunlight and moonlight alike. I hadn’t known what time of day it was for weeks.
I didn’t care. What was the point? The world would keep spinning even without me being a part of it, just as it had for so long. It had never stopped for me before, and it never would. No matter how much I mourned the loss of Toby — the loss of Ryder — everything would continue as it always had.
For the most part, I left the bed only long enough to go to the bathroom and return. Some days were better than others — on those days, I showered and ate and worked and tried to tell myself that everything would be okay.
More often than not, though, deadlines came and went as I curled back up in the safety of my room and wished I hadn’t let him go.
It was selfish of me, and I knew that. I’d done terrible things to him, and he’d said he’d leave, given the chance — so I’d given him that chance, and he’d left.
I wondered how he was doing. He was probably thriving at home, with his family and his girlfriend and his life, while I wilted away in the privacy of my own home.
It was only after he’d gone that I could admit to myself that I’d loved him.
That I still loved him.
Would it have changed anything if I’d told him?
The doorbell rang, and I ignored it. I didn’t care who was out there. They didn’t matter nearly as much as staying in the safety of my own bedroom, in my own bed, where I could languish in peace.
It rang again, and I squeezed my eyes closed. I didn’t know who would be so insistent…
Then again, maybe the police had finally come.
A part of me was relieved.
I sat up, running my hand through my tousled hair as the doorbell rang a third time.
Definitely the police. No one else would bother trying to reach me more than once, let alone three times.
I paused long enough to put on my shoes.
They’d probably take me right from the door, and I didn’t want to be barefoot when they took me in.
As it was, I looked like shit, wearing the same clothes I had for days in the same sheets in the same bed.
I felt like shit, too, so it was only fair.
I wished I had time for a shower so I wouldn’t look so disgusting, but then, one glance in the mirror would be enough to remind me that I was always hideous.
A fourth time.
They wouldn’t stay polite for long. It was only a matter of time before they busted through the door like they did on television, coming to take me in like I was a dangerous criminal.
No, like the dangerous criminal I was.
It was all over.
I wondered, briefly, if he’d visit me in jail.
No. He’d want to forget about me, and I didn’t blame him.
I trudged to the door, unlocking it and opening the door to sunlight so bright it made my eyes hurt. But there weren’t police officers at my door.
There was one man there, just one, and he…
He was Toby.
Ryder.
Toby.
He was both, and he was neither…
And he was mine.
“Hi,” he said awkwardly. Unlike me, he looked well-groomed, his hair recently cut so it no longer fell into his face.
“Hi,” I said, not sure what else to say.
“Can I come in?”
I glanced behind him, still expecting the police to descend upon me at any moment, still waiting for them to come in and take me away. But they weren’t there. No one was. There wasn’t even a car.
“Yeah,” I said, stepping back and gesturing for him to enter. I closed the door behind him, still stunned — and ashamed of how I looked and probably smelled. How many days had it been since I’d bathed…?
He reached up to touch my cheek then cupped both of them in his palms. Like before, he kissed me, so sweetly it made my heart ache.
“Hello,” he whispered this time. “I missed you.”
I could barely breathe. I put my arms around him, and he pressed close to me before pulling back a little with a wrinkle of his nose.
“When was the last time you showered?” he asked bluntly.
And there he was, the man I’d thought I’d lost forever. I blushed, more than a little embarrassed by my own lack of hygiene. “It’s been a few days,” I admitted.
“I knew you needed someone to take care of you,” he said, stepping back from my arms.
“What?” I asked dumbly, still unable to believe he was here with me.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you into the bath.”
The bath. I had to be dreaming this. This had to be my subconscious telling me that I desperately needed to bathe, to take care of myself, that I had reasons to take care of myself. It was hard to say what reasons there were, but I knew they existed.
I let him lead me in the direction of my own bedroom, and he tugged my hand until we were in the bathroom.
“Get undressed,” he told me.
I had to be dreaming. He never would’ve told me to undress. But I obeyed anyway, wanting to lose myself in this dream for as long as possible.
He started to run the water, testing the temperature over and over until he was satisfied enough to put the stopper in. “There we go,” he said.
I stepped into the tub, letting out a soft groan as the hot water swirled around my ankles. Slowly, I lowered myself until I was sitting down, the water crashing down over my feet as I settled in. When had I last taken a bath? It had been so long that I didn’t even remember.
“Where are your extra sheets and stuff?” he asked once I was settled. “I’m guessing you haven’t changed those either.”
My cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Hall closet,” I told him. “But you don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t have to. But I’m not ready for your questions yet either,” he interrupted me.
I had plenty of those.
“Just enjoy your bath,” he said. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Promise?” I asked, my voice rough.
He nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Those words made it possible to relax back in the tub, and I watched as he left the bathroom — presumably to change my sheets for me. I could hear him moving around, and I was warm inside and out at the idea of him doing something like that of his own volition.
He’d come back of his own volition, too.
I didn’t know what that meant.
But he’d kissed me, too…
I washed my hair while he was gone, wanting to be clean from head to toe, and it would help me start to get my head together.
He returned after a few minutes, and I could see then how tired he looked. He may have been taking care of himself on the outside, but I couldn’t help but wonder how much he’d taken care of the more important pieces of himself.
Not very well, if he was back here with me, I couldn’t help but cynically think.
“You came back,” I said, unable to think of anything else.
“I never really left,” he replied, not looking at me.
“I missed you too,” I said, finally responding to the words he’d spoken near the doorway.
He glanced at me then, a small smile on his lips. It didn’t reach his eyes, though, and I wasn’t sure what I’d have to do to get him to relax alongside me. He found a washcloth and tossed it into the water. “Bathe,” he ordered.
There was a part of me that wanted to ask him who he thought he was to give me orders in my own house, but I bit the words back. He was taking care of me, and he wasn’t exactly wrong in telling me to bathe.
I needed it.
I grabbed the soap and lathered up the cloth, leaning back a bit as I started to methodically wash myself. The whole time, he watched without comment, and I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt the moment by speaking again.
Finally, he said, “I want to stay.”
I dropped the cloth. “What?” I couldn’t have heard that right.
He swallowed hard. “I…” He sighed, looking away from me and squirming. “I can’t stay at home. Things are…” He shook his head.
“You didn’t tell them,” I said slowly.
He shook his head again. “No. They…” He sighed, fidgeting with the bottom hem of his shirt. “Nothing’s the same, and I… I miss you,” he admitted again, this time in a near-whisper.
I wished I wasn’t in the tub so I could wrap my arms around him and pull him close.
But my heart sank as I realized I had to have broken him even more deeply than I’d thought.
“That’s because of what I did to you,” I said softly.
“You shouldn’t be here.” I got out of the tub, grabbing the towel he’d set nearby.
“It’s… it’s not…” He bit his lip. “It’s not like that. Don’t you want me here?” he pleaded.
It was so strange to hear him ask, and I blinked at him. “Of course I do. I just… I fucked up enough before. I don’t want you to regret it, especially because I know your family will probably be worried and pissed off.”
And they’d eventually realize where he’d gone and put the pieces together. As much as I wanted — needed — more time with him, I didn’t want it to end that way.
“I left them a note,” he said, looking down at the floor.
I dried off and quickly dressed in a t-shirt and boxers. Then I went to him, not bothering to dress before pulling him into my arms. “How do you know you’re not making a mistake?” I whispered, kissing his brow.
“Because I wanted to be back here from the second I left,” he said. “I’m not Ryder anymore.”
That had been what I’d wanted, so why was I so sad to hear it?
He must’ve understood the look on my face because he hurried to add, “I mean, I am. But I’m not the same Ryder I was. I’m… Toby.”
I closed my eyes, resting my chin atop his head. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.”
“You don’t know what you’re say—”
He pulled back, looking up at me. “Don’t tell me I don’t know what I’m saying or doing,” he said, glaring. “You’ve decided enough.”
I flinched back.
He sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not.”
We both fell silent for a moment, then I beckoned him close again. He pressed against me, molding himself against my body, and I stroked his back. “So what now?” I asked him, unsure of how to proceed.
“I don’t know,” he said.
I didn’t know either, and it wasn’t something easy to figure out. Did he only want to be here because of what I’d done to him? Had I been that successful in twisting him into what I wanted?
Or had he really learned to care about me on his own?
It was probably a mixture of the two, but it was so easy to doubt everything when I knew what he’d insisted from the start: he was straight, and he didn’t like men. But he’d kissed me when he’d left, and he’d kissed me when he returned, and that had to mean something.
Didn’t it?
I had to hope so.