60. Ryker
60
Ryker
B y the time I got back, she was curled up in a ball, crying in bed. I’m curious how things went after I left, but I suspect nothing is changing for the better, unless I give it a little push. I sidled up against her back and held her while she cried herself to sleep. Nothing breaks my heart more than this. It’s the cruelest form of torture.
I barely slept a wink as I held her. I eventually got up to make some coffee and think, but now I’m watching her sleep like a fucking creep.
I’ve tried to help her see how amazing, beautiful, loving and kind hearted she is. How deserving she is of the unconditional love she so selflessly gives to others. She’s come so fucking far. She stands a little taller and lets her joy out more often. It’s been an amazing thing to watch her grow, but there’s a worry that runs through my gut saying there’s more that needs to be done.
That more’s name is fucking Christine. My girl takes three steps forward, just to take two back every time she’s faced with her mother’s manipulation, even when the truth is right in front of her. Until she’s able to see her for who she really is, nothing will change. I know she’s tried to set boundaries, but every time she does, something happens to set her back again. It’s a cycle I fear will never end. At least not until she puts an end to it… for good. I don’t know what that looks like, but I know I can’t do it for her, no matter how much I wish I could. Unfortunately, I’m afraid I’m not actually helping her. I’m a safety blanket. A way to distract rather than heal.
I take a moment to really look at her, with her hair cascading off her shoulder in light, soft waves, her cheeks still slightly pink from crying. A contrast against her creamy white skin. And those freckles. Fuck, I think she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
I’ve been saying for a while now, that she’s mine. Except… she isn’t, is she?
The question forms in my mind before I can stop it and the worry that was running through me starts to grow in my chest at the realization that maybe she’s never belonged to me… at least not fully. And she never will. Not as long as her self-worth, self-esteem and all around happiness remain even partially tethered to the woman that gave birth to her twenty three years ago. A woman that doesn’t deserve the devotion afforded to her by her own daughter.
There’s only one solution I can see to fix this.
Arabella
I wake with a start, sitting straight up in bed after what feels like a bad dream I can’t fully remember. Patting the bed to find it cold and empty, a pit of worry forms in my stomach.
Where is he?
Sliding out of bed, I grab his hoodie and pull it on.
“Ryker?” I call as I step out into the open living area. I haven’t called him by his given name in a while, and I’m not sure what made me do it now. It feels sour on my tongue.
“Daddy? Are you here?”
Stepping up to the kitchen counter, I see a note.
Bella,
Had to step out for a few hours.
Be back soon. Have some coffee.
Eat something.
XO, Ryker
If I thought saying his name didn’t feel right, it feels even less right to see him write it. I actually hate it. At this point, he’s Sir or Daddy and I have no desire to call him anything else.
After I’ve made my coffee, I pull out a bowl and pour myself some cereal.
Good enough.
Last night was a lot. I can’t say I’m not relieved that mom knows about us, although it could have gone smoother. It’s never a fun time hearing your mother call you a hussy and accuse you of stealing her man.
I know Ryker hates that I let her talk to me that way, I could see it on his face, but it’s easier to take it than fight back. It’s not like she’ll change, and until I can find another option, I’m all she has.
We talked after he went for a walk and I asked her flat out if there was truth to his accusations. She denied them all, first telling me he was lying and then that it’s a simple case of miscommunication. I don’t understand why she would do the things he accused her of, but I also don’t think he would lie about it either. When she finally left, I told her I needed some time to think, hoping it’ll buy me time to figure out my jumbled thoughts. Nothing makes sense and I’m struggling to sort through it all.
The only thing that helps me get through the mess, is knowing he’ll hold me through the pain once it’s over. And that’s exactly what he did when he got home. Now he’s gone again and I’d give anything for his arms to be around me again.