1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Nine

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  He reached for his notepad and clicked his ballpoint pen. “Intrusive thoughts?”

  “Yes. And the rituals. And anxiety, the worst anxiety I’ve ever felt.”

  He made a note and flipped back a few pages. “Months, you said? About when did this start?”

  “August twenty-fifth.”

  Ken looked up. “What triggered it?”

  “Skylar told me she loved me.” For a second, I blamed Skylar for telling me she loved me for the first time on an odd day. Didn’t she know nothing good happened to me on odd days?

  “And what about that was traumatic for you?”

  I ran a shaky hand through my hair. “The weight of it. The responsibility.”

  He made another note. “Tell me about the responsibility of loving someone.”

  God, didn’t he understand me at all? “It’s not the responsibility of loving someone. Loving her is easy. It’s effortless.” I took a breath and tried to put into words how I felt. “It’s the responsibility that comes with letting someone love you. It means you’re beholden to that love. You have to nurture that love.”

  “You have to deserve that love.”

  Aha. He did understand me.

  “Yes,” I said quietly. “And no matter how much my heart feels for her, my head just keeps convincing me I’m doomed to disappoint her, or worse.”

  “You will disappoint her, Sebastian. That’s human nature. In any close relationship, there will be hurt and disappointment.” He set his notepad aside. “But there is also forgiveness. Redemption. No one expects you to be perfect.”

  “Except for myself.”

  “You’re going to have to let that go, Sebastian. We all know what it feels like to want to be a better person for someone, but aiming for perfection is a mistake.” He shifted in his chair, sat up taller. “Think back to when I first started seeing you. You set goals. You made progress. Things have changed now that you’ve fallen in love, but there’s no reason why we can’t adjust those goals, adjust your therapy to help you. You respond well to therapy, Sebastian. You’re disciplined and tough on yourself and determined. Let’s use those qualities to help you get back on track.”

  I nodded, glad to hear his faith in me.

  “Now tell me what happened in the last month.”

  Sitting back on the couch, I described my last few months to him in detail, explaining how falling more in love with Skylar had triggered the faulty wiring in my brain to convince me the rituals would protect her. “Instead they drove her away,” I said. “She accused me of doing it on purpose, and I’m wondering if she was right. Maybe I wasn’t doing it to protect her—maybe I was doing it to make her leave so that it would be less painful. I’d have control over it, you know?”

  Ken nodded. “You’d be alone by choice then, rather than be abandoned.”

  “Right.” I exhaled, closing my eyes for a moment. “You know, I spent all last night wondering if those shrinks were right about my issues stemming from my mother’s death. Deep down, am I just scared of being left alone? Did I isolate myself in school because I was afraid to make friends? Did I choose Diana because I knew subconsciously there was never any danger of losing my whole heart to her? And did my feelings for Skylar trigger this relapse because it’s already lost?”

  “Those are good, introspective questions, Sebastian.”

  “But then I wonder if that’s all bullshit and it’s just neurological, not psychological.”

  Ken nodded. “Also a valid question.”

  I pinned him with a stare. “I need answers, Ken. I need help. I don’t want to lose her. Tell me what to do.”

  * * * *

  Together, Ken and I discussed strategies for getting back on track, some that had been successful for me in the past, and some that were new to me. He told me to schedule an appointment with my doctor to see about changing up some of my meds and specifically asked me to mention being treated for depression as well as anxiety. I promised I would. Then he asked how serious I was about Skylar.

  “Serious,” I said. “In all of this, the one thing I have no doubt about is the way I feel about her.”

  Ken smiled. “Perfect. So let’s bring her in here and talk about what she can do to help.”

  Feeling optimistic, I left his office building, putting up the collar of my coat against the cold. I was dying to run right to Skylar and apologize and tell her I was doing everything possible to get better fast, but I thought it might be better to spend some time doing some serious self-reflection, setting new goals for myself, and pondering the best way to show her that I wanted to make a life with her, if she’d give me another chance.

  When I got back to the cabin, I texted her instead. I miss you and I’m thinking of you every minute. If I’m silent for a while, it isn’t to shut you out. It’s to get well enough to let you in, and never let you go. I love you. I’ll always love you.

  Chapter 36

  Skylar

  It nearly killed me not to call him the following week, but I knew he needed this time to work things out on his own. I answered his text with a simple I love you too and waited for him to come to me. I missed him terribly, but I was also glad he was taking this seriously…if he’d rushed right to my side, I might be tempted to think he wasn’t taking enough time to think carefully about what he wanted for the future.

  I knew what I wanted. Finally.

  The days that Sebastian took for himself, I took for myself too, reflecting on what I’d accomplished this summer and where I was headed. I felt proud of the direction my life had taken: I had a job I loved and I was good at it; I had big-picture plans to save up the money to buy my own condo like my sisters had done; I made rent payments to my parents even though they said they didn’t want them, I made a car payment each month on time, and I still had some left over for nice shoes. (Note to self: Do Not Wear Leopard Heels In Rain.)

  Maybe I didn’t have a wedding ring or kids like some people my age, but I had fallen madly in love…that was a good start, wasn’t it? But the more days went by without hearing from him, the more I worried he’d changed his mind about me. His note had said I’ll always love you, and in my mind I started to hear a sort of final, tragic ring to the words…like maybe we wouldn’t get our happy ending but we’d always have last summer. Each night I went to sleep alone, I fretted and prayed and hoped and missed him. Please don’t let me miss him forever. Please don’t let me regret anything. Please bring him back to me.

  And then one shivering cold evening in early December, I came home from work to find an envelope taped to the guest house door with my name on it. The writing was Sebastian’s. Surprised, I looked around but saw no one around and heard only the wind gusting through the orchard. A few snow flurries were starting to fall from the inky sky as I pulled the envelope off the door and hustled inside, kicking it shut behind me.

  Without even taking off my coat, I threw my gloves onto the counter and slid my finger under the flap. Inside were two sheets of notebook paper folded into thirds. Hands trembling, I opened them up. They had spiral fringe on the left as if he’d written them in his journal and ripped them out. The top one was a letter.

  My sweet Skylar,

  Sorry this letter isn’t on nicer paper—you deserve beautiful things, and I promise to give them to you. But this paper suits me, I think. A little rough around the edges, but the words are heartfelt.

  Thank you for giving me the time and solitude I needed to recover. I promise you, I have spent it wisely. Not a day (and certainly not a night) went by that I didn’t miss you, but the issues I had to work through meant focusing fully on myself, mind, soul, and body, something I never want to do when you’re around.

  (Your body is much more fun.)

  I’ve learned a lot about myself during the last month, and feel stronger than I ever have. Strong enough to admit how wrong I was to close myself off from you. Strong enough to see how I let myself be the victim of my doubt and fear. Strong enough to realize what I need to be ha
ppy.

  Can I please have another chance?

  This cabin, this heart, this life feels empty without you.

  Love,

  Sebastian

  P.S. I wrote something for you.

  The words blurred as my eyes filled, and I sniffed as I slipped the letter behind the second page.

  Skylar

  My mind is constantly ticking

  with doubts

  tick did I lock the door tick did I turn off the stove tick did I check the outlets tick did I step on a crack tick did I wash my hands enough times tick did I turn off the lights tick did I walk a straight line tick did I take the right number of steps tick did I turn off the television on an even channel tick did I close the book on an even page tick did I start the car on an even minute tick

  what if I didn’t

  what if I didn’t

  what if I didn’t

  I don’t know.

  But I know

  you wore a gray sweater

  and had a crumbling leaf in your hair

  the day we had a chemistry test

  and before it started you turned and asked,

  “Is sodium hydroxide an acid or a base?”

  It was the first time you ever whispered to me.

  (I liked that it was eight words.)

  I don’t know why eight

  is better than seven or nine or twenty-one.

  I don’t know how many times I’ve told you

  I love you

  But I know that number is all wrong.

  Your love may never silence the ticking

  but I would trade silence for your laughter,

  calm for your storms,

  tranquility for love’s madness,

  the beautiful chaos of stars

  The papers shook in my hands, and tears dripped off my lashes. I needed to see him. Tonight. Slipping the letter and poem back into the envelope, I tucked it into my purse and raced out the door, yanking it shut behind me.

  * * * *

  The drive to the cabin had never seemed so endless, not even the first night we’d been together, Sebastian’s hand sliding up my thigh. At the thought of his touch, every muscle in my lower body tightened. It had been so long. Had he missed my body as much as I’d missed his? The snow fell a little harder as I drove up the highway, and I forced myself to slow down and be safe.

  As I pulled up at the cabin, my heart pounded furiously. Lights were on—that had to mean he was home, right? Sebastian would never leave home without turning the lights off. I almost laughed as I ran up the porch steps, careful not to slip in the dusting of snow.

  He pulled the door open before I could knock, and my breath caught at the sight of him. He’d gotten a haircut, and he wore jeans and a light blue sweater. His scruff was short and neat, and he looked rested and healthy and gorgeous. Heart pounding, I threw my arms around him, and he laughed, squeezing me tight and lifting me right off the ground.

  “Hi,” he said, his voice muffled in my hair. “You got my letter?”

  “Yes. Thank you so much. I love your words.” I inhaled the scent of him—there was smoke and wood on his skin, like he’d built a fire. “God, I missed you.”

  “I missed you too. I hoped you would come, but I didn’t want to pressure you. Just because I was ready didn’t mean you were.” He pulled back just enough to kiss me, and the feel of his lips against mine was so thrilling I had no idea if my feet were on the ground or not. When the kiss grew deeper, he backed into the cabin, where I could hear a fire crackling in the fireplace, and pushed the door shut behind me.

  “I’m ready. I’m so ready.” Panting, I released him from my barnacle grip and started unbuttoning my coat. “Now take off your clothes.”

  He smiled. “I was going to say let’s talk first, but—“ His eyes widened and swept down my body after I threw my coat off, taking in the silk blouse, pencil skirt and heels. “Fuck talking.”

  One by one articles of clothing came off and were flung aside, and we tumbled naked onto the rug in front of the fireplace. I lay back as Sebastian knelt between my thighs.

  “What do you want first?” he asked, his voice low and playful. “My tongue? My fingers? My cock?” He began stroking himself, sliding his erection through his fingers. “What did you miss the most?”

  “Oh god, everything,” I breathed. “I missed hearing you and seeing you and feeling you—every part of you.”

  “Which part first? You have to tell me or I won’t let you have it.” He rubbed the tip of his cock against one pale inner thigh.

  Gahhhhhh, he was so hot! For the rest of our lives his quick mood switches might drive me batty outside the bedroom but inside it, they were like gasoline on the fire.

  “Your cock,” I managed, the fire hissing and sparking. “Give me your cock.”

  “Good girl. I’ll be gentle,” he said, giving me just the tip and then smearing my wetness up and down my pussy. He stopped and met my eyes. “At first.”

  My heart pounded hard as he slid inside me and then pulled out again, teasing me by giving me a little more each time but never enough. Between each tortuous thrust, he played with my nipples, licking and sucking and biting them, pinching them into hard little peaks that tingled with lust.

  “Fuck. If I didn’t have a broken wrist, I’d get rough with you right now,” I panted, my good hand pounding the rug, the injured arm over my head. “Beat your ass for tormenting me.”

  He pushed in a little further. “Poor baby.”

  “Please,” I begged, bringing my good hand to his ass. “I need you there. I need you inside me. All the way.”

  Finally, he slid all the way in, so deep I nearly cried with relief. “Like this?”

  “Yes, yes…” I pulled him into me, widening my knees. God, it was like he was made for my body. Every hot, thick inch of him filled me with such sublime perfection, I couldn’t even breathe for how good it felt. His hips moved faster, thrusting hard and deep, and my core muscles started to contract. “I’m gonna come,” I whimpered. “So hard, so hard. Come with me. Come inside me…” I moaned as my climax hit, and he growled low and long, grinding against me, his cock throbbing and thickening as my core pulsed around it.

  He collapsed onto me, pressing his lips to my sweaty forehead.

  “God, you feel so good,” I whispered, closing my eyes. “Tell me you’re okay.”

  “I’m okay.” He lifted his head and looked down at me. “But I wasn’t before. And I need to apologize for not being honest with you. It was a mistake.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  He smiled. “You’re too easy on me.”

  “I love you. And I once told you I’d give you all the chances you needed.” I took a breath. “Can you…tell me what happened?”

  “Yes.” He rolled to his side and propped his head in his hand. As he talked, he played with my hair, twining it through his fingers.

  “When I first saw you again, I was doing pretty well, I thought. I’d convinced myself that a solitary life was the only way I’d know peace, and peace seemed like the right goal. But then there you were.” He smiled. “Just as beautiful as ever, and those feelings I used to have for you came rushing back as if they’d never left.”

  I blushed. “You hid it well, at least at first.”

  “I had to. You terrified me. I felt strong for the first time in years, resigned to a life alone, and then here’s this beautiful angel right in front of me—kissing me. Touching me. Accepting me.” He shook his head. “I found myself wondering what if…”

  “Me too,” I said. “It wasn’t only you.”

  “And the sex.” He exhaled, closing his eyes. “The fucking sex.”

  “I know,” I whispered, heat prickling across my skin. “It scared me too, how good it was.”

  “I was able to be myself with you, afraid of nothing. It was so incredible. After that, it was a constant battle between my heart and my head—my heart telling me I’d always been destined to be with you, and m
y head refusing to let me believe I was worthy of it. I’d never brought anything but pain to women, and I wasn’t sure I was capable of letting you in.”

  “But you did,” I said softly. “I felt it.”

  He nodded. “I did. But the more I loved you, the more I feared the loss of you—when had I ever been able to hold on to happiness? I didn’t know how it would happen, but in my mind I always knew you’d leave, or something would happen to you, and it would be my fault.”

  “Oh, Sebastian. I wish you’d have said something.”

  “I couldn’t. Especially not once you told me you loved me. Then I felt this need to protect you even more, but what you needed protecting from was me. I started engaging in all my old rituals, stopped going to therapy.”

  My heart ached for him. “I saw it happening. But I didn’t know what to do about it. And some days were so good.”

  “They were.” He looked down at my hair twisting through his fingers. “And I should have talked to you on one of those days, I was just too scared to lose you. But the messed up thing is that you were right, you know.”

  “About what?”

  “That subconsciously I knew I was driving you away with my behavior and continued to do it because then at least I’d be prepared. I wouldn’t experience another sudden, shocking loss and feel blindsided and abandoned.”

  It hit me. “Your mom?”

  “Maybe.” He kept looking at his hand, and in the firelight I saw his sea-glass green eyes were shiny. “I’m still working through that. I don’t think it caused my OCD, but therapy is helping me to see how my fear of loss and abandonment has caused me a lot of anxiety and grief, and maybe that manifests as OCD related behaviors. Who knows?” He sighed. “For as much as science has taught us about the brain, some things are still a mystery. But I don’t think a kid loses his mom suddenly and tragically and remains unaffected—and when I look at the way I chose isolation and emotional distance from people, it makes sense. And this probably sounds crazy, but I felt like I deserved the loneliness. Like a punishment. Whether it was penance for my mom’s death, my violent thoughts, my cold treatment of women, my breakup with Diana…there was always something in my head I needed to atone for. But I don’t want to be alone anymore.”