The Duets

by Quinn, Meghan

  I need to be well.

  I need to find something inside me to love.

  “I love you, Colby. I love you so much that I’m saving you from the self-destruction that’s churning inside of me. I can’t be healthy for you. I can’t figure out my life and be the woman you need. You need to be safe and focused in your plane, not worrying what I’m doing at home, if I’m out of bed, if I’m able to climb out of this pit of despair I feel myself sinking into every minute of every day.” Because I have no idea if I will be able to get out of this pit. The surface, the light, seems so fucking far away. I stand on my toes and press a kiss against his jaw. “Please be safe.”

  I take one of the biggest steps of my life . . . away from Colby and into my car, where I shut the door and turn on the engine. I glance out my window to see Colby on the sidewalk, both hands gripping the back of his neck, a tortured soul being unfairly dragged through the mud by me. But no longer.

  A tiny voice inside me is telling me this is not the best thing for Colby or for me. The muted words are telling me I’m only adding to the list of people in his life who have rejected him, left him, and this isn’t fair at all. With all my heart, I wish I could reach within me to listen to her. But the roaring in my ears is the voice that screams not good enough. He deserves better.

  And for now? For now, I can’t have him worrying about me when he has far more important things to focus on. Mine is a life he can’t save. Can’t protect. Not emotionally, anyway. I will love him forever, and if he forgives me down the road, I’ll be the luckiest woman on the planet.

  I love you, Colby. Always will.

  But I need to heal.

  It’s time I tried.

  Chapter One Hundred Ten

  COLBY

  Pick up. Pick up. Come the fuck on and pick—

  “Hello?”

  Thank Christ.

  “How is she?”

  Every day I’ve called Rory, looking for an update on Ryan, wanting to know exactly what’s going on, because even though Ryan thinks this is the end, she’s so fucking wrong. We might be apart, but that means shit to me. I know deep down now I was wrong. I loved Rory, but she wasn’t deep in my soul. I loved Sage, because she made life easy and uncomplicated. Ryan? My broken firecracker? She’s the woman I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with, and to hell if I’ll let her think otherwise.

  “She’s not great,” Rory answers. When I spoke to her after Ryan left about keeping me in the loop, I told her never to beat around the bush. I wanted the truth, and I needed to know exactly how Ryan was doing so I could form a plan to make her see her worth. “She was in bed until noon today. She’s helped with Hailey a little bit, but she’s been in her room for most of the day, and whenever she comes out, her eyes are bloodshot. I’ve tried to get her to eat, but it’s been hit or miss.”

  “Fuck,” I mutter, pressing my palm into my eyes. “And she still doesn’t want to talk to me?”

  “No,” Rory answers sadly. “She keeps telling me I need to drop it. I need to drop the idea of you two being together.”

  “Fuck, Rory. What the hell am I supposed to do? I leave for Korea tomorrow.”

  “I know, I know. I’m so sorry. I wish there was more you could do.”

  “I can’t even fly there to attempt to convince her otherwise. I’m literally strapped to my commitment here.” I start pacing my house, the space empty as my belongings are in storage. I’m not taking anything with me to Korea besides clothing and a picture of Ryan and me. “I don’t understand why she won’t let me help her or why she won’t get out of bed.”

  Rory sighs on the phone and says, “Hold on.” In the background I can hear her talking to Stryder before the click of a door sounds and the telltale sound of her starting her car rings through the phone.

  Finally she says, “You said I can be honest with you, right?”

  “Yes, always be honest with me.”

  “Okay, then I’m going to give it to you straight, Colby. This is something you can’t fix. I’ve known Ryan for a very long time, and I’ve seen her go through good and bad spells. I’ve seen the way her mom has treated her, how she eats her up and spits her back out with a disgusted look on her face. She’s a horrible woman who knows exactly how to get under Ryan’s skin. When her mom went to Vegas, she denied ever bullying her. It was a blow to Ryan and any self-confidence she had left. I know very little of what was said, but what I do know is what I told you. She’s not in a position where anyone can help her. It’s going to have to be her decision to figure this out.”

  “So we’re going to sit by and let her slowly hate herself more and more every day? How is that a good idea, Rory? How could that possibly end with a happily ever after? It’s now more than ever that she needs positive affirmation.”

  “I understand that, Colby,” Rory says firmly. “And I also understand you’re hurting and worried because you’re about to fly across the world and can’t do anything to help your girl.”

  I can’t. I’m helpless at this point, my hands are tied, and I have nothing left to give.

  “I need to be with her, Rory.”

  “I know, and I want nothing more than for you two to be together as well, but that is never going to happen unless she gets healthy first. This is not about her being stubborn, and as you well know, she is the master of stubborn.” A small smile passes over my lips, knowing exactly what Rory is talking about, having experienced Ryan’s stubborn side many times. “This is about her being unwell and not being able to see out of the darkness right now. She needs professional help, Colby.”

  “How can we get her to be healthy again?” But now I wonder . . . has she ever been healthy?

  “I invited her dad over for dinner tonight, and I’m going to have him encourage her to go to counseling. I have a friend I met through Special Olympics who helps individuals with body image issues, and I think she would be perfect. She said she’d love to work with Ryan.”

  Hope springs in my chest. “That would be great. What else?”

  “We are keeping an eye on her, and every day we’re going to challenge her to at least help us with Hailey, using the excuse of first-time parents, but it’s really to get her out of her room. Maybe convince her to help us out at the gym as well. Stryder thought he could convince her that we’re short-staffed since I’m with Hailey. The athletes will at least put a temporary smile on her face.”

  The tension in my chest starts to ease.

  “Okay.” I let out a deep breath. “What about me, what can I do?”

  “You’re not going to like this, but I think you need to stop texting and calling her.” Fuck. No.

  “No.”

  “Here me out, Colby. Every time you call and text her, you’re reminding her how she thinks she’s not good enough for you. It’s a setback, not a step forward.”

  I scratch the side of my jaw, irritation fluttering in my veins again. “No. I’m not going to stop talking to her so she believes this is really over. I’m sorry, but that’s non-negotiable. She needs to know I’m still here.” She needs to know I’ll never give up on her. On us. That she’s my everything.

  “I understand.” She takes a second to think, and then it’s almost as if I can see her smile through the phone from the happy tone of her voice. “Okay, I have an idea.”

  “Hit me.” I will do anything to make this work.

  “Remember when we were dating?”

  “Yeah,” I drag out suspiciously.

  “One of the things that helped me through our time apart was your letters. They were so rich and full of the soulful man you are. They touched me deeply. Write letters to Ryan. I will make sure she reads them, even if I have to read them to her myself.”

  “Letters.”

  “Letters,” Rory repeats.

  “And you think that’s going to help?”

  “She needs to learn to love herself first, but I think it will start to offer her broken soul another perspective. And hopefully, it will give h
er the courage to seek the help she needs, knowing that you love her and always will.”

  Chapter One Hundred Eleven

  RYAN

  “Are you comfortable?”

  I shift in my seat and nod, even though I’m the furthest thing from comfortable. I spent two hours getting ready for this meeting, not wanting to look like the wreck Rory probably told this lady I am. I didn’t want to walk into her office with bloodshot eyes and snot-stained sleeves. It’s not a good look . . . on anyone.

  Samantha Love—yes, that’s really her name—gently smiles at me. “Rory said you might want to sit down and have a conversation.”

  I love how she says that. “Have a conversation.” Let’s call a spade a spade, lady; this is therapy.

  When Rory first suggested I work with Samantha, I had no intention of showing up . . . until my dad got involved. He begged me to speak with this woman, and it about broke me seeing my dad so upset. So I made a conscious decision. Even though this is going to be a long and painful road, it’s time to stop sulking and try to heal.

  It’s why I moved away from Vegas to begin with, to get healthy.

  But I hit a roadblock along the way.

  I had no idea what impact saying bye to Colby would have on me. And now he’s in Korea . . . Korea.

  “Can I be honest with you, Samantha?”

  “Yes, always.” She folds her hands over her notepad, and I wish I felt her calm.

  “I really don’t want to be here, even though I know I need to be. I’ll be frank. I hate myself. Everything about me. Name it, I hate it. My self-love is zero. I moved back to my hometown because I was drowning in self-hatred in Las Vegas where I had a decent job as a makeup artist, great friends, and an amazing boyfriend. I left it all to come back here.”

  “Why?” It’s a non-judgmental question, more curious than anything.

  “To find myself.”

  “And have you started that journey?”

  I shake my head, feeling slightly ashamed.

  Leaning forward, she gives me a small smile. “Well guess what, Ryan? This is your first step, being here, talking to me.”

  “I’m fucked up, Samantha.”

  “Aren’t we all in some way?” She grins, knowing she just shocked the hell out of me with that answer. “It’s really how we let the fucked-up part of our life affect us that defines who we are as a person.” She winks. “Ready to get to work? You have to put in the hours. I’m willing, are you?”

  Okay, maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

  I nod. “I’m ready.”

  * * *

  “Hey, how was your first session today?” Rory asks, burping Hailey on her knee, looking like the warm mother I always knew she would be.

  I hang my purse on the coatrack next to the door and take off my jacket. “It was good. Samantha likes to swear.”

  Rory laughs. “Yeah. She’s unconventional; that’s why I thought you’d like her. She’s not going to sit there and make you talk. She’s interactive and fun. I think you two will get along very well.” She nods toward the kitchen. “I have dinner on the stove. Chili, if you want to serve yourself a bowl.”

  “I’m okay.”

  She raises a stern eyebrow in my direction. “Ryan, what did I tell you the other night? If you’re going to live here, you’re going to eat three appropriate meals a day, go to therapy, and change at least one diaper a day.”

  I chuckle, remembering her “tough love” talk after my dad left. She made it clear she can’t force me to go to therapy, but if I wanted to set a good example for Hailey, I should start helping myself. And damn it, she was right.

  “Now, go get some damn chili and don’t make me ask you again.”

  “Yes, Mom,” I drag out as I make my way to the kitchen. I pull a bowl from the cupboard and give myself a generous portion that Rory will approve of. I take it to the living room and sit on the couch across from her. “Stryder still at the gym?”

  “Yeah, Wednesdays are his late nights. He should be home soon.”

  She watches me as I eat, making sure I chew and swallow. “You can stop staring at me; I’m eating it.”

  “Just making sure.” She winks and then casually nods at the coffee table. “So, you got some mail today, but before you open it, I want to make sure you’re doing okay.”

  “What kind of mail?” I scan the table but everything is turned upside down, so I can’t see a damn thing.

  “Mail that I know helped me years ago. Mail I hope will help you now.”

  “You’re being vague.”

  She scoops Hailey into her arms and starts patting her butt as she gently sways her back and forth. “It’s from Colby.”

  I have a spoonful of chili halfway to my mouth when I freeze, my heart plummeting as my eyes bolt to the coffee table again.

  “Why? Why would he do that? He stopped attempting to contact me last week.” I both hated and loved him for trying to keep in contact, but when all communication stopped, I nearly lost it. But I’m not well enough, so it was right he stopped. But now? “He’s in Korea, so why would he write me?”

  Leaning forward, she picks up the envelope and hands it to me. “Why don’t you find out?”

  I set my chili bowl on the table and take the letter from Rory, flipping it over, seeing his very precise handwriting. The letter is addressed to me, care of Rory Sheppard. I run my hand over the ink, the thought of him touching this very envelope sending a thrill through my bones.

  “Go on, read it,” Rory encourages with a smile.

  With shaky hands, I tear open the envelope and unfold the paper, sitting back on the couch as I stare at his penmanship, in awe of how neat and beautiful it is.

  Curious and scared. Hopeful and panic-stricken. I have no idea what I’m meant to feel right now.

  Dear Ryan,

  It’s the night before I leave for Korea and I’m sitting in my house, scanning the empty living room, the kitchen with no food in it, and the picture-less walls. It feels surreal that in less than twenty-four hours I’ll be on my way to a different country, thousands of miles away from you and yet, in this empty, white space all I feel is you.

  You standing at the door, smiling and waiting for me to greet you with a kiss.

  You sitting on the couch, curled up into a ball, staring at me in the kitchen as I fix you dinner.

  You on the counter of my kitchen, naked and writhing on my tongue as I make you come before breakfast.

  You’re everywhere. Your smell is engrained in the fibers of the carpet, of my clothes, of my bedding. Your laugh still bounces off the stark-white walls of this house you helped make a home. And those freckles on your nose I loved counting in the early hours of the morning while you slept? They’re a pattern I continuously see wherever I look.

  You might live in another state, and tomorrow in another country, but the distance is only in my mind, because you’re forever in my heart. It will be your beautiful face I see every morning as I wake and every night before I go to sleep. It will always be you.

  I won’t stop loving you. I won’t stop writing. And I won’t stop feeling you everywhere I go. You’re ingrained in my soul.

  I love you.

  Your man,

  Colby.

  I read through tears, taking my time reading every single word until I finally look at Rory who has a huge knowing smile on her face.

  She pats me on the leg and says, “You’re in for one epic ride. I hope you’re ready for it.”

  * * *

  “Are you doing anything after this?” Samantha asks.

  “No. I literally don’t do anything besides come here and hang out at Rory and Stryder’s house. Occasionally I see my dad, but that’s about it.”

  “So why are you wearing so much makeup?”

  I blanche, starting to feel self-conscious all over again and Samantha catches the change in my mood. “I’m trying to understand your intentions, Ryan, not judge you. Remember, this is a no-judgment zone. Be honest and I�
��ll be honest.”

  I nod, knowing this is a safe place. I was caught off guard for a second, because it’s something my mom would say to me. “Honestly? Because I don’t feel comfortable without it. I barely feel comfortable with it.”

  “Have you always used it as a shield?”

  “Ever since I can remember being able to wear makeup, I never went a day without it. At first it was light, some mascara and lip gloss, but then every year my routine grew.”

  “How long does it take you to put on your makeup?”

  I shrug. “After contouring and blending everything? Forty-five minutes maybe.”

  Samantha makes a note. “Okay, on Friday, before you come in, I want you to put makeup on, but I want you to time yourself. Thirty minutes. Decide what’s really important, and do it in half an hour. It’s a training technique. Think you can do that for me? A little makeup homework?”

  “Are you saying you want me to remove a few things from my makeup routine?”

  “That’s exactly what I want you to do, and then we’ll go over it on Friday. How does that sound?”

  “Like torture.”

  “Good, then we’re starting to get somewhere.”

  * * *

  Dear Ryan,

  When I was stationed at Luke in Phoenix, I remember being so new to flying, trying to earn my place in an F-22, that I never really had time to think. I was constantly studying, putting in flight hours, and doing everything I could possibly do to make sure I was prepared to take on the massive piece of machinery.

  I never had a chance to get acclimated to the area because I was so busy.

  By the time we were PCSed to Nellis, I was more established as a pilot, I had a schedule I was starting to get used to, and the rush started to slow down. We had TDYs and deployments overseas that were strenuous and tiring, our brains being pushed to their limits as well as our bodies.

  I can remember the first time I came home from a deployment. We flew our jets to the base, landing on the tarmac in a row, pilots’ families and significant others lined up to welcome us home. It was heart-warming but also disappointing. I didn’t have anyone standing there, waiting for me. I was stationed at a base where I was supposed to grow as a man, but it never felt like the kind of place I could call a home.