Chapter 17
Lily
" U gh, my feet are killing me." I flopped into the soft hug of the sofa.
Matt grinned, helping the guys clear away the empty glasses from the display tables in the living room.
"Give me a second, I'll come rub your feet," he offered.
I groaned. "That sounds amazing. Today was a great day, huh? You were right, Eric, about us needing this. How are you feeling, Ryan? Did it cheer you up?"
He'd disappeared for a couple of hours before returning toward the end of the party, but he didn't look drunk. Shaken, sure. Shell-shocked, yeah. But I'm sure I looked batshit crazy when I was going through withdrawal. The shakes, the hot and cold. Oh, man, the nausea. The paranoia and hallucinations. The need to climb out of my skin. Ick. I shivered just thinking about it. I didn't envy where he was at, but I didn't want him to feel isolated either.
It was his idea to go cold turkey today. He woke up inspired with the need to prove that he could stop drinking anytime he wanted. And hey, who was I to say that he couldn't? He had my support.
Ryan attempted a smile for my benefit, but it strained against his teeth. "I'm alright."
"You sure?" I asked.
He swallowed and creased his forehead. "Yeah."
"Good." I smiled and propped my feet up.
"I can't believe Ann-Marie's pregnant," Eric announced. He should have looked happier about it, at least, in my opinion. But maybe guys didn't get as excited over these things as we did. Even if I didn't want children of my own, it was still exciting.
I squealed and threw my arms up.
"I'm going to be a godmother. Ann-Marie is going to be a mother!" Tears came to my eyes as the picture of their growing family took form in my mind.
A part of me always kind of thought she and I were on the same page with not wanting children, but she would make a wonderful mother. With all the trauma she'd endured, the woman was a rockstar, and I just knew she would protect that child with every bit of herself. They wouldn't grow up in poverty, that was for sure, and they'd have a mother whose empathy, in my book, had no match.
With both of us in that child's corner, they would hopefully avoid much of the darkness we faced. Although, we wouldn't force rose-colored glasses on their faces. We could only protect children so much, until they were out into the world, out of the cocoon we'd wrapped them in and they were swallowed up by the demons that walked the earth.
That was the reason I wouldn't have children.
There had to be some of us that did, and some of us that didn't to strike some sort of balance. That child couldn't have gotten a better mother. And Tyler didn't seem too bad himself.
My phone rang, interrupting my musings.
"Lily, I've been thinking about what we talked about," my therapist started. I wasn't sure I was excited to hear what she had to say, if she was going to suggest that I give up on Ryan again.
"Okay," I responded.
"And I have a free time slot next week, if you're still interested," she said.
I snapped upward.
"That's incredible. I'll speak to him about it and see what he has to say," I announced.
"So you hadn't spoken to him yet?" the therapist asked.
"No. Things have been all over the place around here, but he hasn't had a drop of alcohol all day..." I said.
Ryan turned around, brows drawn together. "Who are you talking to?"
Oops. Maybe I shouldn't have said that so loudly. Without context and with his paranoia, it could be interpreted the wrong way.
"I'll call you back. Thanks again so much," I told my therapist before hanging up. "So, you're not going to believe this." I jumped to my feet and approached Ryan.
"Believe what?" His jaw was tense.
"My therapist has agreed to see you next week." I clapped my hands together.
Ryan's eyes narrowed and my clapping slowed.
"Hey, that's good news. Eh, Ry?" Matt patted him on the back.
He shrugged him off hard. I mean, so hard, I worried if he'd thrown his shoulder out of socket.
"Ryan?" I reached for him.
"Don't touch me," he ground out.
He couldn't be talking to me. Ryan had never spoken to me like this before.
"I don't understand. You said you were open to help, I thought you'd be happy about this." My heartbeat had slowed to spaced-out thuds.
"Happy?" His voice raised. "Happy that you went behind my back and booked me a therapist?"
"I just wanted to help," I assured him.
"Bro, why don't you go take a walk and calm down." Eric stepped in between me and him. The hairs on my skin rose.
"Don't fucking tell me what to do! I'm tired of people telling me what to do! Ryan, do this, don't do this, say this, don't say this. I just want to..." He yelled and looked around him, his hands balled into fists.
He found the empty sangria pitcher close by, grabbed it and threw it without looking. It almost hit Eric, whizzed past my head and crashed to the floor behind me. My heart was beating outside my body and my breath became lost as I let out a scream, unable to control myself.
At that, the madness in his eyes left and he focused an apologetic gaze on me. I didn't want to look at him. Didn't want to be around him.
"What the fuck?!" Ethan and Matt grabbed Ryan by the arms. Eric marched up to him.
"That could have hit her! You've gone too far." Eric raised his balled-up fist, but instead of punching Ryan, he unfolded it and wrapped his fingers around his neck. "Lash out like that again, it'll be the last thing you do."
I couldn't cry out for them to stop. My voice was lodged somewhere deep inside my throat as Ethan and Matt dragged him from the room. Eric was panting when he turned around to look at me. As he approached me, I shuddered. Flashbacks of my past slammed into me, memories of my mom and dad. Is that my fate? Even when I think I've found a good one, am I destined for someone who will abuse me like my father abused my mother? Am I wrong about Ryan? Is he one of the bad guys?
"Lily. It's okay." Eric's voice attempted to break through the static, but I wouldn't let it. If I'm wrong about Ryan, does that mean I'm wrong about the rest of the guys too?
Murderers! My mother's voice echoed in my head, like an urgent warning, begging me to see sense once and for all. And for the first time since my mother's outburst, I didn't fight the possibility that she could be right.
Unanswered questions that I'd had floating around since I came home dominated my thoughts. Where did Eric really get that bruise from? When exactly did Terry and the other guy die? Were they with me? My head hurt as I searched through my thoughts.
Matt joined Eric by my side. "Lils? Can you hear anything we're saying? Are you okay?" he asked.
I stared blankly at the two of them. Were they acting suspiciously between the night I came home and the day I found out that they were dead? On the day I found out, they comforted me. Nausea overcame me at the thought of them being able to kill someone, not panic and lie about it without cracking, for so damn long. Well, except for Ryan. If they're capable of something like that, Ryan could be the only one with an actual conscience.
Worried I'd been living in La La Land for too long, forgetting the 'me' who was always cautious around men because these men managed to convince me otherwise, I ran from the room.