by Lisa N. Paul
Ryan leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He scrubbed his face quietly for a moment before he continued to speak. “I’ll never forget the look of defeat on their faces. It was like they’d finally accepted it was time to let go, but what they didn’t understand was that I wasn’t ready. They’d had so much time to discuss the ‘what ifs’ and the ‘when’s’, but I hadn’t. They’d kept me in the dark. But all of a sudden they wanted me to come and say goodbye to my mom—to tell her it was okay to leave me, okay to stop fighting. Ashley, I hadn’t even started fighting yet. They’d never given me the chance to start my fight. I was losing my mom and I was pissed. I was angry. I hurt. And there was nothing I could do about it but say goodbye.” Ryan felt the lone tear run down his cheek as he silently cried for the boy who was never even given the chance to fight for his mother. Braving a glance at Ashley, she mirrored his grief, her sorrowful eyes overflowing with the pain of Ryan’s loss and regrets.
“She—my mom—told me during one of our last conversations that it was important for me to always speak from my heart. To never assume that people know what I’m thinking, but to say what’s on my mind. In a lot of ways that advice led me to song writing. It also led me to loving you, and in a lot of ways it led me to fucking things up with you—the one woman who I have spent most of my life loving. When Mom died, I became a different person, Ash. In fact, if it weren’t for Leo, I honestly don’t know where I would have ended up. Your brother found me at a dark time in my life and he showed me the light. He just had a way about him.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan saw Ashley go rigid when he mentioned Leo’s name. He waited patiently for her to collect herself. The moment he saw her shoulders relax, he continued. “I always laughed when you called me Romeo,” he admitted, “because I wasn’t trying to be smooth, or give you the lines. That was me, just telling you what I was honestly thinking.” He let out a choked laugh. “But I guess a nineteen year old kid saying the things I did, probably just sounded like I wanted in your pants, right?”
“Ryan.” Her fingertips brushed lightly over his shoulder. He looked up and noticed a gleam in her eyes—one that hadn’t been there for a long time. “You were already getting in my pants, so I guess I was dumb enough to believe all of your sweet talking. We were a good pair back then.” He was certain the airy tone of her voice was intentional. She was trying to lighten his mood and pull him back from the dark place he was treading so close to entering.
“It took everything I had not to punch him in the goddamn face tonight.” Ryan switched topics. Anger is better than pain any day of the week, he thought to himself. “I’m not sure what’s going on with him, but Lyla didn’t deserve one fucking word of the shit he spewed at her. When he reached out to touch you…God, Ashley, if Danny hadn’t been there,” Ryan’s voice dropped to a growl, “everything I worked so hard for, would have been for nothing.”
Her raised eyebrow asked the question before her voice did, “What are you talking about, Ry?”
“Ashley, you weren’t the only one making changes during the time we were apart. Didn’t you ever wonder what I was doing during all of that time?”
In the four years they had been living together, not once had they ever spoken about their time apart. In fact, other than the one time when she’d told him about losing her virginity, they’d avoided discussing those years completely. She never spoke of anything regarding her past—her relationship with Ryan, her brother, or life in Miami. Those were things that were best left in the suitcases in her mind. She didn’t need anything in the bags, so why open them?
Shame slowly weaved its way through her chest, wrapping itself around her lungs and gripping her airway. No. She refused to think of those days. They needed to stay in the dark so she could continue to burn bright.
“Ash, really? You never once asked yourself why I didn’t come for you?” Complete shock and something akin to disappointment clouded Ryan’s beautiful features. “Nice, Princess. Nice to see I meant so much.”
“Ry, It’s just…” She tried to come up with an excuse, but how did you explain to the person you once loved more than anything in the world that you wanted to pretend they’d never existed?
“Save it, Ash. It doesn’t matter.” He shifted on the couch putting a small distance between them. She missed his warmth immediately. “But you should know, in that time, I spent hours—hell, months—working to fix myself.” Her eyes flared at him in astonishment. She scanned his face for traces of humor or dishonesty, but all she saw was a man stating the truth.
“I went through grief counseling to deal with the loss of my mother, anger management classes to deal with my need to lash out, group therapy to face the guilt of everything that happened with Leo, and more counseling to handle losing you. Not once did I blame you for leaving me, but I was burying myself with guilt and I wouldn’t…no, couldn’t stop torturing myself over my stupidity. I never stopped loving you. I just wanted to give you a better me—the kind of person you deserved to have in your life. Once I felt like I’d got control over who I was and where I wanted to be, I went to your parents and begged them to tell me where you were.”
Ashley was reeling from information overload. She barely remembered any of those months, and here he could probably account for every minute of every day that had passed during them.
“So my parents told you I was living in Pennsylvania and you came here?”
“Christ, no. Your mom just laughed in my face and told me to go to hell and your father told me that while he’d failed Leo in every way imaginable, he’d be damned if he did that to you. He said you wanted to disappear and he would help you do that. He told me that he’d always liked me and that he was sorry for being such a horrible father to his kids, but that he wouldn’t help me find you. So I was on my own.” Ryan let out a huge sigh and let his head fall to the back of the sofa.
Ashley was speechless. Her father had finally stepped up. He’d let her do what she needed to do and for once he’d respected her decisions. She laughed to herself, bitterly. Had her father known her at all, he would have sent Ryan to her sooner, knowing his presence would have been exactly what she needed. She’d been lost without him, and his love would have made her journey easier. Oh, well, it is what it is, she thought. I got through it on my own and I’m still standing…kind of.
“So if he didn’t help you, how’d you find me?” She knew the answer to this question. She’d overheard him talking about it years ago, but they had never discussed it. But since the past was on the table she thought she’d get some answers.
“Do you really want to know this, Ash?” She tucked a purple strand of hair behind her ear and nodded once, prompting him to continue. “When I realized that your parents were never going to give in, I hired a private investigator. You really were amazing at covering your tracks. We followed a bunch of dead leads before we finally tracked you here. I wasn’t shocked that you ended up in such a quaint little town, but I was surprised that you never returned home. Not for me. Not even to visit Leo.”
His words were a punch in her stomach. She couldn’t contain the cringe they caused and she knew he saw her reaction by the way his eyes rounded. “Ryan, I told you when I left that I felt lost there. I had to go. I’m sorry if it hurt you, but you hurt me first.” She winced at the childish way the words sounded coming from her mouth. “And as for Leo, I know he’d understand. He never wanted anything but my happiness.”
“What do you think I wanted for you? My God, Ash.” His voice was thick with frustration and anguish.
Ashley’s heart beat wildly in her chest. She couldn’t do this with him. She couldn’t start relieving a past that had nearly killed her the first time. She was about to stand up and leave the room when Ryan reached out and grabbed her hand. As he squeezed, the pain and remorse in his eyes was almost tangible. All she wanted to do was reassure him that life would be all right—that they would be all right—but she couldn’t. She wo
uldn’t. He had changed. He’d learned to be a better man. But her—she’d run, she’d hidden, and she was just barely treading water. She didn’t deserve the patient, loving man he’d turned out to be. She didn’t deserve happiness at all. Leo didn’t get his happiness because she was weak, and she wouldn’t allow herself happiness because Ryan had been so strong.
Ashley could feel the color as it slowly drained from her face. Her mind was racing with thoughts. She had to distance herself more. More space, more room, more time apart…
“Princess, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start with you tonight. I just…” He paused. “I wanted to explain why I was the way I was back then, why tonight pushed my buttons, and why I let you go instead of fighting harder.”
“Ry…” His expression was loving - filled with strength and possession. That was Ryan, he wanted to fight harder, but she knew she wasn’t worth his fight. She had nothing to give him. He deserved better, a whole person. Selfishly, however, his pleading look over-ruled all of her notions. If she was going to let him go, she wanted one more night in his arms.
As if he could read her thoughts, he leaned in and whispered softly into her ear. “Princess, please, let me just hold you tonight. Nothing else needs to happen. I just need you in my arms. I need to feel you breathing and know that you’re really here…”
He had to know she couldn’t say no to him when he looked at her that way. He had to know that the thought of being wrapped in his woodsy scent and held in the shelter of his strong arms would cause a chink in her armor that would take days if not weeks to repair, but he’d asked anyway. There was no way she could turn him down. Not when she ached as much as she did for the security only Ryan could give her.
His shoulders slumped under the weight of the world as Ashley leaned in close and ran her palm down the strong line of his jaw. She noticed the jump of the muscle under her hand. “Relax, Ry. I’m gonna lock up the house—why don’t you turn on a movie and we can rest together on the sofa.”
She smiled as she turned off the lights around the house and locked the front door. Watching a movie was her way of saying they would sleep on the sofa together. She heard him sigh loudly and then kick off his boots. By the time she returned to the den, their favorite movie was playing and he was lying down with his head perched on his arm. As if it had been yesterday and not years ago, she laid down next to him, her back to his front and allowed herself to meld into his warmth.
Exhaustion seemed to overtake him because once he had her settled, his arms wrapped tightly around her, she felt his heartbeat begin to steady. The smooth strokes of his thumb on her ribs went from sexy and playful to slow and sedate, until, finally, she felt his breaths whisper soft against her neck. He’d fallen asleep with her tucked into him like a security blanket that he would never release. Not ever again.
Lying there wrapped in Ryan, Ashley was filled with hundreds of thoughts and just as many emotions. She traced the tattoo on his forearm with her index finger. Se souvenir le passé, vivre le presente. Well, she wasn’t quite living in the present as much as existing, but it was what she needed to do because Lord knew she didn’t dare dream of her future when it took all of her effort to hide from her past.
Hours passed as he slept soundly behind her. She knew from years of living together that Ryan didn’t sleep well. She knew this because they spent countless nights sitting at the island in their kitchen drinking tea, discussing silly things during the hours most people slept. During the time before he’d come back into her life she’d spent those hours alone, staring aimlessly at the television, praying for sleep to take her. In addition, Ryan’s presence had brought her company during the sleepless nights and for that, if nothing else, she was profoundly grateful. Feeling the rise and fall of his chest against her back, and knowing that he was experiencing peaceful sleep for the first time in countless nights, she stayed put, even though her mind begged for her to disengage. You’re getting too close, it said. You don’t deserve him.
As the early morning sunlight bled through the windows in the den, Ryan felt coolness seep through his body. Even in sleep he knew the presence that kept him safe and warm through the night was no longer there. He slowly opened his eyes to confirm what his brain already knew.
Ashley was gone.
Don’t Wait Up
WRITING LYRICS TO an awesome musical arrangement always filled Ryan with an incredible sense of euphoria. It gave him a way to clear his mind and say the things he needed to say without facing embarrassment for his unrequited love, or recourse for his anger and frustration. In high school most of the band’s songs had been written by him, Ashley, or the two of them combined. Their songs were saturated with feeling and emotion and he truly believed that was the reason why their band gained its following as quickly as it did.
After Leo’s death, Ryan never played with a band behind him again. He couldn’t bring himself to perform without his best friend backing him up so he decided to step off the stage and write the songs instead. It’d taken him a while to tap into his creative mind after Ashley left Miami, and him, behind. However, once he did, the words began to flow like water from a hot spring. While the lyrics never quite touched his soul like they once had, his songs became relatively popular in the music industry—keeping his mind busy and his pockets lined with cash.
Hearing the clunk of Ashley’s car door closing in the driveway, he peeked out his bedroom window just in time to see her leaning into the back seat to grab her gym bag. The sun had just set, leaving beautiful streaks of oranges and purples swirled through the sky and the iridescent glow of the outside lights to lead her from her car to the house. Quickly, Ryan slid his notebook and recording device into the plastic storage container and slid them under his bed. It wasn’t that he was hiding his song writing from her—she knew that he still wrote music—but other than the stuff for Leo’s Lights, they never discussed lyrics anymore. She heard him play his guitar, she knew he played at open-mic nights, but other than that she didn’t ask and he didn’t tell.
He wondered if she ever thought about the other guys from Storm Front. Did she know that after Leo died and Ryan left the band, Jayson and Zane tried to move on and went nowhere? Did she realize that those he’d once considered his family just turned their back on him when his best friend died? No, she probably didn’t because that was the past. They didn’t speak of the past. Just another one of those unspoken rules between them. God, he hated those fucking rules.
Ryan clicked on the television in the corner of his room. It was eight-thirty in the evening and unusual in that neither he nor Ashley had to work—something he hoped to use to his advantage. He wanted to talk to Ashley. Actually sit and spend time with her. Not only hadn’t they discussed what happened between them on Sunday night, but she’d acted like nothing happened at all—like he hadn’t shared the most intimate details of his life with her, and they hadn’t spent the night wrapped in each other’s arms. She’d stowed away their evening like baggage checked at the airport, and he’d followed her lead and let it go. You can’t keep doing this, Baker. When are you gonna man up? He grabbed his guitar by its neck and thoughtlessly started strumming a tune he hadn’t played in years.
Ashley toed off her running shoes and slid them under the narrow table in the hallway. The jingle of her keys landing in the metal bowl next to Ryan’s was muted by sounds coming from upstairs. “What the hell?” she muttered.
The chords of Hazel Eyes drifted down the stairs and through every inch of their home. That used to be one of her favorite songs. Ryan had written that song just for her, and she’d practically swooned every time she’d heard it, but no matter how much she loved it and begged him to share it with his fans, he never did. He claimed it was his private love letter to her and no one but her would ever hear it. He had kept that promise and, true to his word, this was the first time she’d heard it in close to seven years. Sadness and loss washed over her skin like the sand in ocean water, and she felt rubbed raw by the long si
nce played, but unforgotten tune. Shoving aside her sadness, she stomped up the steps and straight into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She knew she shouldn’t have ignored him, but she couldn’t stop to acknowledge him in any way for fear of completely breaking down. So she flipped on the shower and stepped under the spray, allowing the hot water to burn her skin until it finally turned cold.
Not until he was halfway through the melody did he even realize the song he’d chosen. His fingers had begun to play as if they had intentions of their own. Minutes had passed when the realization hit, visions of a seventeen-year-old Ashley asleep on her bed as he penned Hazel Eyes played through his mind’s eye. His memories vanished with the sound of the bathroom door. Keyed up by the feelings the song had brought to the surface and frustrated with the childish behavior of her silence, he turned his television up louder and relaxed into his bed. Soon after, he watched Ashley leave the bathroom and head straight to her bedroom closing the door behind her. There will be no conversation between us tonight, he thought. God, I’m such a wimp.
Thirty minutes later, Ryan found himself relocated downstairs sitting in solitude on the sofa, with a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. While absentmindedly flipping through the channels lost in thought, his irritations mounted at their inability to fucking communicate. Just as he landed on the channel he was searching for Ashley suddenly appeared, dressed in her favorite ripped jeans and a black Paramore concert tank top. Disconnecting his stare before she noticed, he forced his eyes to focus directly in front of him, but sensed her movement as she headed toward the door. “I’m meeting Janie at Sombrero. It sounds like Max, fucked up, again. Don’t wait up.” His gaze never left the TV as he purposefully gave an absent nod in response to Ashley’s information. He heard the door click closed behind him, and even with the sound of the TV, he found himself drowning in the pain of their silence.
