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I let him sit alone in his truck for a moment, internally debating my next move when I feel a warm presence at my side. I glance over, and up, seeing Emmett, his gaze also on Ryan’s truck.
“You feel safe leaving with him?” Emmett’s gruff voice asks. “You don’t have to, you know. We can give you a ride home, or to our place, wherever you need.”
I look behind him, expecting Jenna nearby.
Emmett tilts his head in the direction of our table. “She’s still back there, setting the entire group straight. She told me to come make sure you are okay.” He looks down at me. “Are you okay?”
Emmett and I have never had a direct conversation about my past and what brought me to Chicago, but I assume Jenna has told him every possible detail. He’s also never told me directly about his time away, and what brought him back to Jenna, but she has. I admire him, and their relationship; they’re proof that stubborn love can get us through anything. “I’m glad she has you. I don’t think I’ve ever said that out loud. But I want you to know that.”
Emmett’s face lights up as he looks back again, seeing Jenna push her way through the crowd towards us. “I’m the lucky bastard she chose.” He reaches an arm up for her once she’s closer. “I remind myself every day how lucky I am to have her.”
Jenna walks into his arms, wrapping hers around his waist for a hug before turning to me. She breaks apart from him and comes to curl her arms around my shoulders. “What are you thinking right now?” She whispers into my hair. “Want me to send Emmett out there to kick some ass?”
I laugh, as much as I can with how much my heart is breaking right now. I ease out of her arms and take a deep breath in and out. “I’m gonna go talk to him.” I don’t know what side of Ryan to expect once we are face to face, but I know I’m not scared of him, and that in itself speaks volumes.
Slowly, I walk to the passenger door and climb inside, the entire cab reeking of uncomfortable silence. When I sneak a look at his face to see if he’s mad, sad, hurt—maybe disgusted with me—I don’t find the answer. He has his best poker face on and isn’t giving me any indication of how he’s feeling.The wall I had worked so hard to break apart is back.
He pulls the truck onto the snowy road, my eyes trained on the taillights in front of us. Fat, wet snowflakes fall heavy from the sky, gathering along the bottom of the windshield.
It doesn’t take long to realize that we aren’t heading to his apartment, we’re nearing mine, which means I’m not staying thenight.The overnight bag he insisted I pack sits heavy between us, taunting me.
“I planned on telling you at some point,” I say, my voice a whisper.
“But you didn’t.”
I exhale and try again, choosing my words carefully, scared to say too much but wanting to say something. Anything. To make this mess go away.
“I know that was the worst way to find out … but it was a long time ago. I have zero contact with him. I hate that she told you, believe me. I don’t know exactly what she said, but it’s my past.”
My throat clogs with all I want to say, but I can’t get another word out for fear I’ll break down. I’m not the same person I was two years ago, but by his resounding silence, I know he’s thinking about his past. It’s too close to what he’s spent the last twenty years running from.
“I’ve told you everything, Lainey. I told you about my mom, and how she was willing to be with anyone no matter how they treated her. She went back every time. She chose men who would beat the shit out of her over her ownkids. I don’t have her in my life for a reason.”
“I know,” I mumble quietly.“I’m not her. It was different.”
He laughs, an icky, menacing laugh. “So why would—” he starts, and I whip my head to face him.
“Why, what?”
He keeps his eyes glued to the road ahead, his throat moving with a deep swallow.
“Why would Iletmyself get into a relationship with someone like that? Is that what you want to ask me? Why was I that weak? Why didn’t I see it coming? Ask me, Ryan. That’s what everyone else asks.” I know each question someone has after finding out about my past. It’s the same ones I’ve heard over and over. Eventhough the physical scars have healed, the embarrassment and self-judgment that lingers is sometimes more painful.
“That’s not it,” he finally murmurs.
“Then look at me. Look me in the eye and tell me that’s not what you think. Tell me what you’re wondering.” My voice is shaking, but I need to see it. I need him to look at me and tell me the truth. I want him to tell me that it’ll be okay, that he doesn’t care, but he doesn’t budge.
He stops at the next red light and exhales painfully. “Lainey, I don’t know about this. If—”
Before he can get the words out, I’m scrambling for my overnight bag and unbuckling my seat belt. I’ve come too far to let myself feel guilty over something so out of my control. I refuse to sit around and wait for his rejection. I shove open the door to his truck, the wind picking up and pushing it back into me as I kick my feet out and land on the road.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he barks.
“I’m walking home.”
“No, you’re not.” He reaches an arm across the cab to try and grab me, but I pull out of his reach. “Lainey, it’s twenty fucking degrees outside!”
I step onto the sidewalk as the first tear falls. “I don’t care!” I scream, “I would rather freeze to death out here than see that look in your eye. I’ve seen it many times. The disgust. The judgment. I see it every time I look in the fucking mirror, Ryan. Iliveit. I refuse to take it from you.”
