I lean back against the counter opposite of him and nod my head. I don’t know what to say to him, and I’m a bundle of nerves as I watch him move around the kitchen.
“Umm, I’m gonna sneak upstairs and get cleaned up.” I need space to regroup and watching him move around wearing nothing but a loose pair of pajama pants is way too distracting for me.
“Here,” he says as he pours the creamer in my coffee and adds one sugar.
“Thanks.” I take the cup, and avoid eye contact. What am I doing? Why does this make me so uncomfortable? Even the fact that he remembers how I take my coffee feels like too much.
It’s always been difficult for me to connect to people, to let them in. Jase says it’s because of the lack of affection I had when I was growing up. Maybe he’s right. I’ve only ever truly let one person in—Jase. Guys have always made me feel awkward. I don’t know how to respond to affection, and I wind up feeling embarrassed and shy. For the first time, I don’t want to feel that way. Not with Ryan. Maybe it’s because he has seen a part of me that no one besides Jase has.
Fighting with my parents has been my life. I am used to the chilled air that surrounds them. But having Ryan witness that, and then watching me fall apart, is something that no one has seen. I’ve always kept that hidden within me.
“Hey,” he says, and I am snapped out of my thoughts. “You okay?”
No. I’m confused. I don’t want to be, but I am. What happened last night? What did that mean?
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just want to get ready before everyone wakes up.”
“Okay.”
I turn and make my way upstairs and quietly sneak into his room, careful not to wake Madison.
I take my time showering and getting ready, needing to pull my thoughts together before going downstairs. Yesterday was overwhelming, being around Ryan’s large family. I am so used to calm and quiet. I can already hear the kids playing as I slip on my jeans and one of my old UW sweatshirts. Wrapping my hair on top of my head in a messy bun, I hear a knock on the bathroom door.
“Come in,” I say. When the door opens, Ryan walks in and leans up against the sink right next to me. I look over at him while I’m swiping on some lip-gloss and start putting everything away. He watches me as I pack my things up, and when I pass him, he takes me by the waist and pulls me in.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing. Really.”
Cocking his head slightly to the side, he says, “You wanna get out of here for a while?”
Without thinking too much, I nod my head.
He takes my hand, but this time it’s different. He laces his fingers through mine and leads me downstairs. Everyone is moving about, eating breakfast, and tending to all the kids. He walks us into the formal dining room where his mother and cousins are sitting. I see Donna’s eyes go straight to our hands, and I quickly try to pull my hand away, but he grips me tighter.
“Good morning, Candace,” she says as she stands up and gives me a hug. “How did you sleep last night?”
“Good, thank you.”
“Hey, Mom, we’re going to go to Indian Beach for a while,” Ryan tells her.
“Oh, okay. Well, the girls and I are heading to Astoria for the day to do some shopping, so we won’t be around. But the guys are going to stay here with all the kids.”
“What are the plans for dinner tonight?”
“The kids really want Fultano’s Pizza,” she says.
“Text me when you’re driving back, and we’ll go pick it up,” Ryan tells her.
“Thanks, dear.” She leans in and kisses him on the cheek. “You guys have a good day.”
We head out to the jeep and start driving towards Ecola Park to the beach. The drive is quiet as we weave through the lush trees on the narrow, winding road. The surroundings are absolutely stunning, considering the dark grey skies and rainy weather. When we make our way out of the canopy of trees, Ryan parks the jeep, reaches into the back seat, and grabs me a hooded raincoat.
“Here, wear this,” he says as I take the coat from him.
When we get out of the jeep, I shrug on the huge coat and pull the hood over my head. The wind off the water is strong, and the chill is biting. He takes my hand again and starts walking us down the wooden stairs to the wet puddled sand and rocks. This place is beautiful in a dark and moody way. We are the only ones on the beach aside from a few surfers in wetsuits out in the water. I follow Ryan and we walk along the uneven stacks of black rocks toward a few logs of driftwood. We sit on one of the logs, and he wraps his arm around me as I shiver in the rainy cold. The view of the deep cliffs around us and the sea stacks in the water are awesome.
“This is amazing,” I say.
“Yeah, I love it out here. I used to surf here a lot growing up.”
I nod my head, remembering the surfboards in his bedroom.