No part of me is calm, cool, or collected. I’m entirely out of control. In a sense, I’ve been out of control ever since that girl waltzed into my apartment, but this time, the powerlessness doesn’t feel freeing. I’m spiraling as we drive away.
Whatever is going on between us is so new. We haven’t had the opportunity to fully discuss it, and at the time it felt weird to throw a label on something so organic.
But now I wish we had. That way she could tell him, but more importantly, she could tell me where we stand.
Every single insecurity of mine floods my body, overtaking any reasonable senses I have left.
Do I mean enough to her?
Will she go back to him?
Was it always him?
Does she want me at all?
Those four questions consume me, blind me as they repeat over and over while I watch the girl I’m completely gone for with another man. And I have to get on a plane, leave Chicago, and pray that I’m enough.
It’s a twenty-minute drive to the airport and I give her that much time before I call her.
“Hi,” she says, swallowing.
And I know her well enough that she’s swallowing down emotions.
“Are you okay?”
Exiting the bus, I linger on the tarmac as the rest of the guys board the airplane.
A sob breaks free from her chest. “Yes.”
“Indy.” I close my eyes, sighing. “Fuck.”
Not only do I hate hearing her upset, but not knowing exactly why is eating me alive.
Scrubbing a hand over my head, I pace the quickly cleared tarmac and listen to her broken breaths and sniffling nose.
Finally, she says, “I’m fine, Ryan.”
There’s a bite to her words and I’m not sure if she wants me to leave her alone or if she’s simply trying to sound unaffected.
Tension lingers on the line.
“He wants you back, doesn’t he?”
She doesn’t answer, and my heart plummets from her blaring silence.
“What exactly did he say?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“How could you say it doesn’t matter, Ind? It clearly matters to you. You’re upset.”
“I’m processing. That’s a lot of years to say goodbye to.”
Fuck. None of this is what I wanted to hear, but I’m not sure what I expected. Did I really think she was going to answer the phone and tell me she told him to fuck off or that he didn’t affect her at all?
Indy is sensitive. Initially, it turned me off, but it’s what eventually made me fall so hard for her, her openness to feel. Of course, that conversation would affect her. She wouldn’t be her if it didn’t.
But what I need her to tell me is that nothing changes between us and clearly, she can’t.
“Shay, let’s go!” one of the team staff members shouts from the top of the aircraft stairs.
“Blue…” I begin but can’t seem to find the words.
I need to tell her how much I want her. I need to tell her I can give her the life she’s always wanted if she would let me. I need to tell her anything that will make her forget about that fucking conversation with the guy who’s done nothing but make her feel like she’s not enough, yet too much all at the same time.
“You have to go, Ryan.”
“Shay!” I hear again.
“Goddammit.” I inhale a deep breath, beginning up the stairs to the plane. “Take all the time you need, Indy. I understand, or at least I’m going to try to. Have a safe flight tomorrow.”
I hang up the line because I care about her enough to understand this moment isn’t about me. Yes, the lack of control and the unknown might just kill me, but how fucking selfish would I be if I didn’t give her a moment to process?
But even though I’m trying to be a good guy, the overwhelming realization that I may have misread everything, like a love-sick fool, just as I’ve done before with another woman, eats at me as I slip into my seat for takeoff.
31
INDY
Indy
I need a daily update from you. Is Ryan okay? He’s barely talked to me.
Stevie
I think he’s scared, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.
He’s got nothing to be scared of and he would know that if he would talk to me.
I know, Ind, but insecurities don’t exactly work that way.
It’s been a lonely few days, regardless that I’ve been on the road for work, surrounded by friends.
It no longer matters if I’m in a room full of people. If Ryan isn’t around, I’m lonely. And right now, not only is he not around, but he’s also not talking to me much either.
He’s not mad at me, and he’s not shutting me out, he’s simply giving me space to process the conversation with Alex. I don’t need space. I’ve told him exactly that, but the times we have talked over the last few days haven’t lasted long enough for me to explain what happened.
Part of me genuinely believes he thinks if he gives me enough time to explain, I’ll end up telling him I’m going back to my ex. But if Ryan gave me the time of day, I’d tell him how proud of myself I am for how I handled that conversation and reaffirm just how obsessed I am with the man I’m living with.
I would tell him that when Alex started crying, the old me would’ve jumped in to save him the second I saw he was upset, would’ve done anything in her power to make him happy, but the new me didn’t feel the burden of that responsibility anymore.
I would tell him that when Alex explained why he slept with someone else—because we were together for so long, because we had been best friends since we were five, and I was the only girl he had ever been with. Because he wanted to explore before settling down for good, and it was the biggest regret of his life. I would tell Ryan what I told Alex—it was the best thing to ever happen to me.
I would explain that when Alex asked me if he was the last person I’d been with because for him, there was no one before or after the night I caught him, I told him he asked the wrong question. He should’ve asked if he was the last person I loved, but regardless, the answer to both would be no.
And I would let Ryan know that when Alex asked me to go home with him, I told him my home is on the twenty-second floor of a building downtown. It’s an apartment that up until a few months ago was stark and sad, but now bursts with breakfasts shared over the kitchen island and more books than either of us have time to read.
I would also tell him that I was completely emotionless while sitting on that curb, but I was overwhelmed when he called me. I wasn’t sad per se, but for the first time since things ended, I had the chance to mourn that relationship. The answers I’d been given gave me the opportunity to officially close that chapter in my life. In that moment I grieved for the sad girl from months ago who needed those answers so badly, even though the woman I am now doesn’t care about his why’s. The tears didn’t mean I wanted that life back.
“This is my first time at this arena.” Caroline claps her hands in excitement, pulling me out of memory lane as we sit courtside at Ryan’s game in Arizona.