Chapter 42
THEN
Late August
Last Friday
‘When are you going to tell me what’s going on?’ I asked Ryan, as I clambered into bed beside him.
He stared at the ceiling. He didn’t turn. Didn’t move.
‘Nothing’s going on.’
He’d been pulling away from me for weeks. I’d tried to be patient. To give him space. Time.
But how much time was enough?
‘Ryan, I’m worried about us,’ I said, my voice softer as I reached for him across the bed. My fingers brushed his arm and he jerked it away as though my touch burned him.
I let out a short, disbelieving breath. ‘Right, nothing’s going on,’ I said, pulling back. ‘This is completely normal.’
His jaw tightened. ‘It’s late, Kirsty. I’m tired.’
‘So am I, but we need to talk about this.’
He rolled onto his side, tugging the sheet around him. ‘This isn’t the time.’
‘Then when is?’ I pressed. ‘Because you’ve been avoiding me for days. Recoiling at my touch. Shutting me out.’
‘Just leave it alone.’
‘Leave what alone, Ryan?’ I said desperately.
‘You don’t understand what I’m dealing with.’
‘Then explain it to me,’ I said, shuffling closer. ‘Let me help.’
‘You can’t,’ Ryan said flatly.
‘Why not?’
‘Because you’re not part of this world.’
I shook my head. I’d heard those words so many times before from Denise and Charlotte. But never from him.
‘You don’t know what it means to be part of a family,’ Ryan continued. ‘What it takes. What it needs from you. What you have to sacrifice for it.’
A lump formed in my throat and I struggled to swallow.
He knew how much I wanted that. A family. Somewhere I belonged.
And now he was throwing it back at me. Like it was my fault that I didn’t have it.
‘You said you wanted this. Wanted us,’ I reminded him. ‘But you’ve been pulling away ever since we got back.’
Ryan sat up abruptly, flinging the sheet back. ‘I just need some space,’ he said as he stood.
‘Space?’ I blinked. ‘You had two years of space, Ryan. We only just got back together.’
He didn’t respond.
He grabbed his holdall from the wardrobe and dropped it on the bottom of the bed.
I jolted up, propping myself up on my elbow as I stared at him, stunned.
‘What are you doing?’
He still didn’t answer.
I lurched forward. ‘Ryan?’
‘It’s too much,’ he said, yanking clothes from their hangers and stuffing them into the bag.
Too much.
The words were like a heavy blow to my chest.
I knelt on the end of the bed, my mouth open, fighting for air. I stared at him, unable to speak.
What’s too much?
Us?
Me?
‘It’s just too much,’ he repeated as he disappeared into the en suite. Scraping and clattering followed.
I didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Then he came back out, his toiletries bundled in his hands, and dropped them in the bag in stony silence.
‘You’re leaving?’ My voice was raspy and strained.
He zipped the holdall up.
‘You’re going back to the stables?’
‘Yes,’ he said without even glancing at me.
He looked like a stranger. His jaw tense, eyes hard. Contempt radiating from him, dark and angry. With me.
Why?
What had happened?
What had I done?
I scrambled off the bed, hurrying after him as he stormed out of the bedroom and down the hall.
My heart lurched as he reached the door.
‘Ryan?’
He didn’t pause. Didn’t look back. He just opened the door and walked out.
I sank to my knees, staring at the door as it closed behind him.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t cry.
He’d gone.