Chapter 38
Thirty-Eight
Turning on the tap, I run the water until it’s cold and fill my glass. Bringing it to my lips, I stare out the window into the backyard and take a sip to soothe my dry throat. I can see Ryan’s reflection in the glass, leaning against the island, watching me thoughtfully.
“Do you want a glass?” I ask, keeping my back to him. He pushes away and stands close behind me, his arms circling my waist.
Resting his chin on my shoulder, he says, “I don’t need anything. Are you sure you’re not hungry? I worry you’re not eating enough.”
“I’ll eat later. My stomach isn’t happy right now.
Nerves, I guess.” I place my hand over his and inhale deeply.
“Help yourself to whatever you want. There’s still stuff in the pantry that I moved over from when you overstocked my cupboards at the Airstream.
” My voice hitches at the thought of my poor trailer.
Will I ever be able to think about it without being reminded of Braden’s destruction?
“What can I do?” he asks.
“I’m fine. Do you want to take a shower? You never got a chance after your run,” I suggest. I need a moment to myself to think, process, plan…maybe spiral a little.
“I will later. How about we go into the living room? I’ll start a fire, and then we can talk,” he suggests, kissing me on the tender spot behind my ear.
“Talk about what?” I ask as he leads me by my hand out of the room. “Where do you want to begin?”
“You decide. A lot has happened recently. I’m sure you must be feeling overwhelmed.”
I huff out a humourless laugh. “How about how my ex continues to make me, and everyone around me, miserable? Or how he’s crippling me financially to the point I don’t feel like I will ever recover?
Destroying my original designs doesn’t just break my heart; it affects my potential to earn.
Or we could talk about how he weaponized my already shaky relationship with my parents against me. ”
Fire forgotten, he pulls me down onto the couch beside him. “I want to talk about all those things, but let’s start with your parents. Did something else happen?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.
I didn’t plan to talk about any of this right now; I need a minute to myself. But once the floodgates open, everything tumbles out.
“This morning after you left for your run, I couldn’t fall back to sleep, so I broke my social media holiday early. When I turned on my phone, there was an email waiting for me from my father.”
Ryan slips his arm around my shoulder, and I lean into him.
“What did he say?” he asks, playing with the end of my braid.
“Braden reached out to them. Told them I had made false police reports against him.”
“And they blindly believed him without asking you?” His eyebrows knit together as he leans back to look at me. “They didn’t check in to see if you were okay? Unbelievable,” he huffs.
“That’s normal. Braden is ‘a good guy.’” I roll my eyes.
“Why would he make things up? According to my dad, making up stories is more on brand for me.” Lifting one shoulder, my fingers play with a loose thread on the blanket.
“You should also know that Braden told him I was fucking my therapist. So, there’s that.
Sorry,” I mumble. I hate how my clusterfuck of a life affects him too.
“Of course he did,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “Don’t worry about that, though. It’s not true, so there won’t be any blowback on me if that rumour spreads. How long has he been talking to your parents?”
“I’m not sure. It’s mostly my dad. My mother defers to him on most things. I feel like he likes him more than me. When we were together, he was the model of what they would want for a son-in-law. After we split, they could commiserate about what a fuckup I am, I guess,” I say sadly.
“You’re hardly a fuckup,” he says firmly, twisting his body to fully face me. “You’re a talented artist, a wonderful woman, and an amazing best friend. When you have faced adversity in the past, you’ve always fought and come out on top.”
“That’s not what you would have said a couple of months ago,” I mutter, shrugging off his arm and rising to my feet. “You thought I was annoying, difficult, and too much.”
“That’s not true,” he denies with a soft smile.
“Yeah, right,” I snort in disbelief.
“I know what you are doing,” he says calmly. Leaning forward, he rests his forearms on his knees and watches me.
“What are you talking about?” I plant my hands on my hips and glare, temper simmering under the surface.
“You’re trying to pick a fight. You’re angry with Braden and your father, but it’s easier and safer to be mad at me.”
“Fuck you!” I snap. “Stop psychoanalyzing me.” Before I can stop myself, I blurt out the thing that has been troubling me since the moment Braden planted the seed in my head weeks ago. “I’m not broken or your problem to fix.”
“Woah. Where did that come from?” He stands and clasps my arm before I can storm away. “Don’t put words in my mouth. I’ve never said you’re broken or treated you as if I’m trying to fix you. I want to take care of you because that’s what couples do. They look after each other.”
“Like you took care of Lily?” I bite out before I can stop myself. Fuck. What am I doing?
“Enough,” he barks back, stepping away from me. Breathing heavy, he says, “I know you’re hurting and scared, but that’s a fucking low blow. You do not get to use my feelings for Lily, nor my grief and guilt over her death, against me. That’s not fair.”
“You know what’s not fair?” I argue, clenching my hands at my side.
“Finding out you are someone’s stand-in.
That’s right; I heard you talking to William this morning.
What was it he said?” I tap my index finger on my lip, pretending to think.
“Same blue eyes. Same long, black hair. Similar mannerisms. Did I miss anything? Sorry you got the dumber version this time.”
“Maybe,” he draws out the word, leaning towards me, “if you hadn’t tried to sneak away, you would have heard what I told him. Jesus, Beck.”
“Did you really expect me to stay and listen to how wonderful she was when we both know I’m severely lacking?” I throw up my hands and storm back into the kitchen.
“Stop putting words in my mouth.” He follows close behind. Circling me, he holds a finger to my face. “But let me get this straight. You listened in on a private conversation. Made false assumptions. Then faked being sick instead of talking to me. For fuck’s sake.”
Glaring, I bat his finger away and ask, “I need to know. Is that who I am to you?”
“No!” he cries, throwing his hands in the air, pacing in front of me. “Why are you doing this right now? Why are you so insistent on hurting me and pushing me away?”
“Because I’m falling in love with you,” I admit quietly, all the fight leaving my body. “I’m scared, and I’d rather push you away before you realize I’m not good enough, just like everyone else.”
He pauses in front of me, his eyes pleading.
“If you’d stuck around and listened to my entire conversation, you would have heard me tell my grandfather that I wish I hadn’t kept you at arm’s length all this time.
That I’m happy for the first time in my adult life.
There’s no comparison between you two because I never felt love for Lily like I do for you. ”
“Is that true?” I whisper, searching his eyes for the truth.
“When have I ever lied to you?” he asks quietly. “You accuse me of comparing you to Lily, but how about you pay attention to how much you compare me with Braden? Or your dad, for that matter.”
“I do not,” I deny, even though I know he’s right.
“Yes, you do.” He takes my hand and smiles sadly. “I understand you’re hurting—really, I do. But I won’t hurt you. And if you push me out of your life, you will take away any chance I have to prove it.”
“What are we doing, Ryan?”
“I’ve been falling in love. What are you doing?”
“I think I’m falling in love too. Why is it so scary?”
“Love isn’t scary.” He pulls me into his arms, resting his chin on top of my head. “Letting go of the hurt from the past is, but it doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, pulling him closer. “I should never have said that about not helping Lily. It wasn’t your fault.”
He places two fingers under my chin and tilts it up. “I know it wasn’t. Now, I do. But that doesn’t mean that you saying that doesn’t upset me.”
“I really am sorry.”
“I know.” He lifts me up by my waist and places me on the island. Stepping between my legs, he raises an eyebrow and asks, “So, you think you’re falling in love with me?”
“Yeah, me and all my baggage.” I lift the corner of my lip and push his hair away from his forehead.
“I have baggage too. Maybe we can help each other carry it.”
“Okay. Was this our first official fight?”
“Maybe since becoming a couple.” He winks, running his hand up and down my back.
“Are we going to be okay?” I ask, trying to push down my insecurities.
“As long as you talk to me instead of bottling up your feelings until you explode, we’ll be okay,” he assures me.
“I’ll work on it,” I agree, returning his grin.
“You know I’m not trying to fix you, right? I don’t think you’re broken—I like you just the way you are.”
“Outspoken. Loud. Impulsive…” I sing, swaying back and forth.
“That as well as being smart, funny, kind, and beautiful.” He dips his head and kisses me firmly on the lips.
We both look towards the mudroom when we hear voices and the sound of our friends as they let themselves in the back door.
“You didn’t lock up and set the alarm,” Ryan whispers in my ear.
“Logan knows the security code. It wouldn’t have mattered,” I say with a chuckle. Despite everything, I feel lighter now that Ryan and I have talked things through. Argued things through? Same thing.
“So much for make-up sex,” he grumbles into my neck.
“I have a lot to make up for. I’m sorry. I promise to make it worth the wait.” Holding his face in my hands, I kiss him again.
He groans into my mouth. “Fine. Later.”
He steps away, and we watch Carson come through the mudroom into the kitchen with two boxes in his arms. Riot and Dillon are close behind with a box each. Logan appears with a stack of pizza boxes and places them on the counter before pulling plates out of the cupboard.
“What’s going on?” I ask as they place everything on the longer harvest table. Jumping down from where I was sitting, I open the first box and peek inside.
Hannah comes to stand beside me and wraps her arm around my shoulder. “We sorted and collected everything the best we could. Some things were destroyed, and we put them in a separate box for you to look through when you are ready. But we saved a lot.”
Claire joins me on the other side and lays her head on my shoulder. “We can’t do anything about the sketches and journals that were lost.” She places her hand on one box. “But we have digital copies of most of the photos, and we can reprint them.”
“I couldn’t rehang the curtains, but I think we can repurpose the fabric to make pillows,” Meg suggests from across the table. “Everything has been cleaned up.”
“I’ll tow it over to the farm later today,” Carson says.
“If Braden can’t find it, he can’t get in it again,” Dillon agrees.
“Yeah. That’s a good idea.” My eyes well with tears again. “Thank you,” I say, as my gaze sweeps around the room at the rest of my friends, settling on Ryan. “All of you.”