“Not really. Are you still smoking?”
She just rolled her eyes. “Oh, because that’s the same.” Sarcasm was the tone du jour.
“Whatever. Dump your PTSD-riddled soldier boyfriend and tell me how you feel.” I’d been crying a lot, and that night was no different. I started wiping tears away from my cheeks when Tosha joined me on the bed.
“Natalie . . .” She sighed and brushed my hair aside so she could rest her chin on my shoulder.
“What?” I sniffed.
“You can’t walk around feeling guilty all the time. It will eat you.”
It had already started. Slowly, using my heart as an appetizer before it devoured my soul.
“I love him, Tosh. I’m so in love with him it hurts.”
“I know” she sighed, “and you love him enough not to watch him make a horrible mistake. More importantly, you love yourself more. You have to take care of you first. You know that.”
My phone rang after a few minutes of sniffling silence. I studied the number.
“Who is it?” Tosha asked.
“Bill . . . Ryker’s dad.” I answered with a racing heart. “Hello?”
“Natalie?” He sounded distressed.
“Bill, what’s going on?”
“Is Ryker with you, by any chance?”
I jumped to my feet. “No, why?”
Bill was silent for a few seconds too long.
“Bill?”
“He took off with my car and I haven’t seen or heard from him since last night—”
“What? I’m on my way.”
“No, it’s—”
I hung up before he finished. Tosha stared at me bug-eyed.
“What happened?”
“Bill hasn’t seen Ryker since last night. That’s not like him.” I threw clothes out of my closet in order to find something other than what I’d been wearing for two days.
“And what is it you think you can do?” Tosha’s words stopped me in my tracks.
“Bill sounded really freaked out, Tosh. I have to help him find Ryker. I know all the spots he goes…”
Tosha met me at our door. “So tell Bill. Natalie, you don’t need to get involved.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “I already am, Tosh. The second I fell in love with him I became involved. Just because I’m not with him doesn’t mean I stopped caring. I don’t want him to get hurt.”
“Or hurt himself.” She cocked her eyebrow.
Bile creeped up my throat. “What are you saying?”
Tosha stared at me for a while; I watched her eyes dart across my face. “PTSD isn’t something you should fuck with, Nat. It’s not even something Bill should—look, just promise me you’ll call the police if things get dicey. Promise me.”
She was right. I wasn’t emotionally or otherwise qualified to deal with PTSD. But, I loved Ryker, and I knew that had to mean something to him still.
As I drove down 116, I figured I should drive by Bill’s house first to see if he was there or had gone out looking for Ryker. A mixture of relief and tension seared through me when I saw Bill’s car in the driveway, meaning Ryker was home. I took it he’d just gotten there since Bill hadn’t called to tell me he’d come home.
I was right. Ryker got out of the car as I pulled in. I watched him stagger for a second before he turned and registered that my car was right behind him.
Great. He’s drunk.
Bill came to the door just as I got out of my car. Ryker leaned against his father’s car and addressed me as I nervously approached him.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked as he jammed his hands into his pockets, looking at his feet.
“Your dad said you didn’t come home last night. I was worried—”
“Worried?” he snorted. “You were worried? You didn’t seem that worried when you took off the other day.”
“You told me to leave, Ryker.” Even though I was leaving anyway, I felt that I should remind him that he slammed the door behind me.
“Because you don’t support me!”
My depression turned to rage as I stood toe-to-toe with him. Tequila oozed through his breath. “I don’t support you? How dare you say that. I love you, and it kills me that you’re choosing reenlisting over me, Ryker. It kills me. I’ll stand by you and support any healthy decision you make, but this isn’t one of them.”
Ryker’s tone turned soft and cold. “Get out of my face, Natalie.”
I should have listened.
“No, Ryker, I won’t. I want you to wake up and see what you’re doing. You can’t reenlist. You can’t. You’re driving drunk around town, telling me you’re getting help when your dad says you’re not.” I put my hands on his shoulders. “Ryker, look at me, please. I’m scared that if you go back over there, you won’t come home this time.”
His voice remained unchanged, but his eyes stayed latched onto mine. “I didn’t come home last time, Natalie. Or, were you too wrapped up in your own life to notice that? Now, please, get out of my face.” He started to pull back from me, but couldn’t get very far since he was leaning against the car.