Putting my hand up, I stop him. “Don’t, it’s fine. It wasn’t your fault—”
“I have to tell you, let me finish,” he cuts in. “I’ve waited a long time to tell you how sorry I am. I know most of it was the PTSD screwing up my brain, but, you deserved better, Nat.” I reach for his hand as he continues. “You deserved to have me telling you the truth when I told you I was getting help. You deserved someone who was willing to get better for you, someone who wasn’t going to push you around . . .” He hangs his head in apparent defeat. From the inside.
“Ryker,” I breathe, rubbing his back softly. It’s the first time I’ve seen what long-time guilt looks like from the outside, while it tears up someone’s insides.
“Thank you for staying with me as long as you did.” He reaches for my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine, still looking down.
Something like a chirp escapes my throat as I nod, tears pouring down my face.
Seriously, how much can one person cry in their lifetime?
“Also, thank you for pulling the fire alarm that night. It saved us both.” When his blue eyes, ones I once called my own, reach mine, I can’t take it anymore.
Instantly I release his hand and stand, pacing behind the couch with my hands knotted through my hair, trying to fight off a panic attack. Ryker’s brow furrows for a second before he heads to the kitchen and fills a glass with water, handing it to me calmly.
“Thanks.”
“It’s okay, Natalie. We’re not back there . . .” His eyes scroll across my face.
“I am. I have been. I never fucking left.” Pressing my palm into my forehead, I continue, “I need to get help, I can’t do this anymore. My boys need someone stronger than whatever this is . . .”
Ryker’s eyes close as relief seems to calm his face. Without hesitation, he reaches his hands up and touches my face. “You are strong, Natalie. After everything I already knew, and what you’ve told me tonight, you’re fucking amazing. But, you’re right, you do need help. We all do sometimes.”
It feels so good to have said it out loud—that I need help. I run my thumb over Ryker’s hand as he drops them from my face. “Thank you. Shit,” I say, looking at the clock, “it’s nearly midnight. I’m sorry I’ve kept you here for so long.”
“Are you going to be okay if I go?” He runs his hands down my shoulders on purpose. He wants to make sure I’m not going to cut myself all night.
“I am.” I believe my own words for the first time in years.
Ryker walks over to the counter, where my cell phone and our cold pizza sit. “Here’s my number,” he says as he taps it into my phone, “please, any time . . .”
I nod as I hear his phone ring.
“I have yours, now, too,” he smiles playfully.
“Great. Thanks for the last two nights, Ryker. I’ve got a busy week ahead of me, what with settling help for my son and, now, me.” When I laugh this time, I catch his eyes, and he smiles back.
“You’ll be good. I know you.” With a shoulder squeeze, he’s heading to the door.
“Thanks again, Ry.” I follow him, opening the door.
“Thank you, Nat.” A suspended moment of uncertainty vanishes as he presses his soft lips to my forehead. My scalp tingles when he pulls away. “Goodnight.”
“Night,” I whisper as he heads down the stairs, hands in his pockets.
I don’t know if we’ll ever scroll to each other’s names to call each other, but I know one thing. I don’t want to cut right now. That has to be a good start.
Chapter 33
“So, Natalie, it’s been three weeks since you officially moved out of yours and Eric’s apartment. How are things going for you?” Dr. Greene crosses her legs and waits with a gentle smile.
I called her first thing in the morning after the night Ryker visited me at Tosha’s. She was able to fit me in by the end of the week, which was great because I was at my wit’s end by then. I’d gone back to what’s now Eric’s apartment and retrieved the rest of my things. Sure, he tried to blame his performance in front of Ryker on his alcohol consumption. But, he wasn’t that drunk. And, by the end of what turned out to be a fairly mature discussion, we realized that there are some broken things that can’t be put back together.
“Listen, Eric,” I said, “It’s going to be hard enough to explain to our parents and the boys about what’s going on. Let’s leave your affair and my cutting out of it, okay? It’ll just make things worse for both of us.”
After a long pause, he said, “Fine. You’re right.”
He has an image to protect, after all. I’m not sure what would be worse for him, admitting an affair, or having a wife with issues.
“Also,” I took a deep breath, “please don’t mention anything about Ryker. I don’t know if he and I will ever see each other again, but you know . . . my mom.” I stared at the floor until Eric grabbed my shoulders.
“I know, Natalie. It’s fine. I’m sorry, again —”
“Don’t. It’s okay. It’s over.”