“Just finish this, Natalie. Don’t run away. He’s right here, and you’re right here.
I allow myself one final, deep breath. “And . . . just . . . I’m mad that I see you after a goddamn decade and you smile and hug me like we were old study partners. And, the worst of it? I feel guilty for being mad at you, Ryker. You were sick, and I tried . . .” Just when I thought I was done, fresh energy surges through me. “Who breaks up with a boyfriend just home from war, suffering from PTSD? A coward, that’s who. One who cuts herself every time she comes home from said boyfriend’s house, and one who requests a restraining order when things get ugly.” I shoot a quick look to Dr. Greene. “I know, I know that none of that actually means I’m a coward . . . it’s just how I feel. I don’t know how to change that in my brain.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Ryker swat a tear away from his cheek.
Dr. Greene touches my knee. “You change it, Natalie, by admitting how you feel and admitting that you know the negative things you’re thinking about yourself aren’t true. And you started that right now.” She smiles and points to my glass of water on the table. “The glass doesn’t feel quite as heavy now, does it?”
Silence loiters for a while as I lean back with my eyes closed, physically exhausted.
Finally, I turn to Ryker. “This isn’t all about you, you know . . . I don’t want you to feel—”
“Natalie . . .” Dr. Greene cautions.
Oh shut up. Shut up, or I’ll throw that guilt-glass at your damn head.
“What?” I ask, a bit too bitchy for even my own taste, “I can’t just let him know that the reason I’m a fucking disaster isn’t all his fault, or any of it? It’s mine. It’s my brain. It’s the way I process things.”
“Why are you so concerned with protecting Ryker’s feelings, Natalie?”
“Because I love him, and you don’t hurt the people you love. Not on purpose.”
What the fuck did I just say?
Ryker stands quickly and paces to the other side of the room with his fingers interlaced behind his head.
“You love me?” It’s clear he’s putting as much distance between the two of us as he can.
“I mean . . .” Shiiiit. “I . . .” I cannot remember where the exit is all of a sudden.
“You dump ten years of guilt and anger on me and then tell me you love me?” He’s angry. I know he’s angry because the tone of his voice causes goosebumps to automatically spring along my skin.
Ryker turns his back to me as I look at Dr. Greene, who seems annoyingly unfazed.
Suddenly, it hits me. “I never stopped loving you, Ryker. Ever. I didn’t even consciously realize it until right this second but . . . I’ve always loved you.”
Despite once loving Eric, marrying, and having children with him, despite the months at a time I’d go without thinking about Ryker, my heart never forgot him. He wasn’t just my college boyfriend. He was the absolute love of my life.
Ryker turns back around, staring at me with wide eyes and open arms. “Now what?” he huffs.
“Now,” Dr. Greene answers, looking at me, “we understand a bit more about your guilt, Natalie. It’s a heavy burden to shoulder all by yourself.”
At the word “burden,” Ryker is by my side again, holding my hand. Holding my goddamn hand.
“Listen to me,” urgently searching through my eyes, he continues, “I know that I can’t change your mind or your feelings, but you have to listen to me. You didn’t ruin my life, Nat. I spent years beating myself up for hurting you in all the ways that I did. I know a little bit about what’s going on inside your head, and you’ve got to believe me when I tell you that you didn’t ruin me. If you weren’t around when you were, I guarantee you that if I wasn’t dead, I’d be one sorry bastard by now. You stuck with me longer than I wanted to stick with myself. Of course there were days I felt mad at you, but not anymore.”
He grabs hold of my other hand and keeps on, with pain in his eyes, “You’re a beautiful person, Natalie, inside and out, don’t let what happened between us . . . it’s over, okay? We’re not back there in my dad’s house, we’re not in your dorm room, and I’m not in the National Guard anymore. It’s all over, and I’m okay.”
By the end of his sentence we’re both crying and wiping our eyes, pulling away from each other to retrieve tissues.
“Thank you for coming today, Ryker . . .” Dr. Greene wraps up my session and sends us back into the world after giving Ryker her number and strongly suggesting he call her.
Ryker and I walk silently to the parking lot, where I see that his truck is parked next to my car.
“Thank you, Ryker . . .” I rest my hand on the door as I open it.
“You’re welcome.” He shrugs and opens his door.
“I want you to know—”
Ryker cuts me off, “It’s okay, Nat. I’m glad I came today. I’m sorry . . .”