by Meghan Quinn
Ryan follows right along with me.
“Can I ask you something?” she asks while putting a big forkful of pancakes in her mouth.
“Am I going to like what you’re going to ask me?”
“Probably not, but I’m going to ask you anyway.”
I prepare myself by snagging a piece of bacon. “Okay, ask.”
“What was the difference between Colby and Stryder? I’m not trying to be a dick here, but it almost seems like you fell in love with them for the same reason. They needed someone to love, and you needed someone to love, to take care of. Was there a big difference between the two of them?”
I take another bite of my pancakes and mull over my answer. There was a huge difference, at least in my eyes.
“There was a difference. Colby was a challenge, an onion I had to peel away the layers of in order to find the heart of him. He was,” I pause and look toward the window, remembering him, “reserved and reluctant for so long, but once he let himself love, it was a beautiful thing. I slowly started to see him unfold and be the man beneath the tough exterior. There was something so . . . magical about being the person who helped him do that.”
“That makes sense.”
“But with Stryder . . . He wore his heart on his sleeve and only covered it with a thin jacket, and if you looked close enough, if you looked for all the signs, you could see right through that jacket. He wasn’t a challenge; he wasn’t someone I had to pick apart to find the man I knew he could be.
“Yes, he was desperate for love . . . my love. He was protective, kind and caring, and would do just about anything to make me happy, including hook me up with his best friend. We shared a different kind of love. Where Colby and I learned about each other through distance and letters, a whimsical romance at best, Stryder and I got to know each other on a much deeper basis. We lived together. I saw him at his worst. And even at his worst, he was such a sweet and beautiful man.”
I take a breath and will back the tears. “Our love wasn’t filled with a sweep you off your feet romance. It had major bumps. We found a way to live with each other, merge our lives together, appreciate one another for who we are, and not just an idea we had of one another. He knows everything about me. He knows what I look like in the morning after a rough night of cramps. He knows what I sound like when I get angry or frustrated with him. And he knows the smile I wear when I’m knee-deep in pure happiness while watching my brother thrive on his own.”
“Your love with Stryder is real,” Ryan says. “It’s been ugly at times. There have been highs and lows, but it’s genuine, built on a foundation of appreciation for one another, a friendship.”
Tears well up in my eyes again as I nod in agreement. “It was built on a friendship.”
“And friendship is the strongest foundation for long-lasting love.”
My lip trembles. “That’s what I thought.” Why is it Ryan can understand this, but the man I love with my whole heart, has no clue? How can he just throw us away? Throw me away . . .
Chapter Twenty-Seven
COLBY
“You look like shit.” Bent, my friend and squadron leader, pops through my hotel door, Cup of Noodles in one hand and a fork in the other. He takes a seat next to me on the small, uncomfortable couch and props his feet on the coffee table. “Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
He pokes me with his fork. “You can’t pull that one-worded shit with me. You know it makes me more annoying. Spill.”
“I don’t want to fucking talk about it.” I uncap my Gatorade, take a sip, and then cap it again.
“Okay, well then you asked for it.” He slurps noodles into his mouth. Slurp. Slurp. Slurp. So goddamn loud. “I know it’s not your grandpa, because you were more sad about him.” Slurp. Slurp. Slurp. “And now you have this crease between your eyes the size of the Grand Canyon, which causes me to believe it has something to do with the friend you met up with last night.”
I’m silent.
“Silence does nothing but egg me on. So it’s about the friend. Good to know. I could tell by your eye twitch.”
I feel like my eye has been twitching the moment I saw Rory and Stryder together.
“And it has to do with him being with your girl, yeah?” Slurp. Slurp. Slurp. “That would put me down in the dumps as well. Doesn’t mean you have to be a dick up in the air. You snapped at Colt today, and he cried the rest of the afternoon.”
“He did not.”
“How would you know? You stormed away after the debrief. Colt cried for at least an hour after.”
“Shut the fuck up.” The smallest of smirks pulls at the corner of my lip. Colt is the most sensitive out of the four of us, so I can only imagine what a cry fest would be like for him.
Catching my smirk, Bent pokes my cheek with his fork. “Knew you couldn’t scowl that entire time. Now fucking talk to me, and don’t make me bend over backwards to get it out of you. We have an early fucking morning, and I have no time to sit here and babysit you. We need to be mentally clear in the sky, so get it the fuck out.”
He’s right. I wasn’t completely focused today while flying, and that is dangerous. If there is one thing I’ve learned in flight school it is always be mentally tuned in. The minute you let your mind drift elsewhere, you’re not only putting yourself in danger, but you’re putting your entire squadron in danger.
Succumbing, I give him a quick rundown of what happened last night, including the punch, the other punches I held back on, and the way it ended. It gutted me to tell Stryder he’s dead to me, but I can’t believe he’d betray me.
It left such a bitter taste in my mouth. Even though I hadn’t talked to him in over a year, I didn’t expect to have to detach that part of my life yesterday. Haven’t I fucking lost enough?
“Are you more upset about the girl or your friend?”
I slouch and rest my head against the couch cushion, tossing the TV remote onto the coffee table. “I don’t know. I’m pretty fucked up over both.”
“Do you still love her?”
“Yeah. Despite everything, I think I do.” But obviously she doesn’t love me anymore. Fuck.
Bent nods his head and tips back the Cup of Noodles cup into his mouth, drinking the broth. “And he’s like a brother to you?”
I let out a sharp breath. “Yeah, he was. Kind of the other half of me, if that makes any sense.”
He nods. “It does. Which means, you have to figure it out between them, because you won’t get past it if you don’t.”
“Figure it out? That’s your advice?” I shake my head. “Fucking shitty-ass squadron leader.”
He stands and pushes my legs out of the way to get past me. “Told you I wasn’t a babysitter. Figure it out, Flyer. This TDY is three months long. I’m not going to have you sulking in your hotel room and fucking up any practice time. Got it?” It isn’t very often Bent is so stern, but when he is, you know it’s fucking serious.
“Yes, sir,” I reply, resting back on the couch.
“And I mean now. Take care of it now,” he snaps just as the door shuts.
Fucking hell.
To say Mrs. Oaks was happy to see me very well might be a lie. She acted like it was good to see me when I knocked on her door this afternoon, all cheery with a smile that never reached her eyes, but I could see the trepidation, the curiosity, the don’t fuck my daughter over expression.
Luckily, she kept to the same polite demeanor I remember from over a year ago and told me where I could find Rory. She might have eyed me up and down before telling me, a purse to her lips, and she might have paused before telling me . . . Nonetheless, I got the information, thanked her, and headed to the bowling alley on Interquest Parkway.
I think back to that night at the bowling alley when Rory and Stryder ambushed me. Stryder so fucking demanding that I go cosmic bowling with him, Hardie, and Joey. I never would have gone had I known Rory and Ryan were going. That was the beginning of the end for me. That was when I
first gave her more of me. I opened the door for her to step in and steal my goddamn heart.
And Stryder was so insistent. Why? So he could see her again even though he couldn’t have her? I squeeze my eyes shut for a second and try to steady my breathing, tamping down my anger. Being angry is not going to do any good.
This will be the first time I’ve talked to her since we broke up, and the last thing I want is to scare her away.
Gathering myself, I walk through the doors of the bowling alley and look to the right side of the building. A group of Special Olympic athletes are having a hell of a time bowling, with a smiley and still gorgeous-as-ever Rory standing in the middle handing out high fives while keeping Bryan close to her side.
Instead of walking up to her right away, I keep my distance, leaning against a pole. I observe her.
Standing protectively next to Bryan, she claps and cheers for the other athletes around her, handing out fist bumps, hugs, and encouraging advice. She’s in her element. This is where she’s meant to be. It’s like she’s found her niche—the thing she’s supposed to do with her life if she can’t be a professional dancer—coaching these amazing athletes. She’s amazing with Bryan, and obviously that extends to the others around her. They all respond to her. All love her. Trust her.
My heart swells as I feel intense pride for Rory. She’s happy and content, until she turns away from the athletes. I see her smile falter and the rise in her chest as she tries to catch her breath . . . and that’s when she spots me.
Her hand goes to her chest, her eyes widen, and pure shock registers across her face. I don’t blame her. I don’t know if she saw me at the funeral or if she kept her distance, but I’m a different man now. My hair isn’t buzzed so close to my scalp anymore, and I have about ten more pounds of muscle on my frame, making me almost as big as Stryder.
Hands in my pockets, I rock back on my heels, unsure what to do. I watch as she leans over to a man sitting next to Bryan and says something to him. The man looks toward me, and that’s when I recognize Mr. Oaks. He gives me a stern look but then nods at Rory. Scooting past athletes, she moves toward me. Her hair is shaped in loose curls, and she’s wearing a simple pair of jeans and a Special Olympics Coach shirt. She looks amazing.
When she reaches me, she mimics my stance and is the first one to speak. “Colby, what are you doing here?”
I’ve thought of this moment for so goddamn long. My dreams of being able to talk to her in person—see her again—became a reality when we were assigned temporary duty in Colorado Springs. I conjured up every type of conversation we could have, but not once did I ever think we’d talk about her dating Stryder. And even though she never returned my letters, I didn’t expect such a lukewarm greeting either.
Not that I thought she’d jump me the minute she laid eyes on me, but I expected a little more than a “what are you doing here?”
I clear my throat and nod toward an empty high-top table, just like the one we sat at so long ago, where I gave her three questions to ask me. “Do you have a second to sit?”
She looks toward the bowling alleys and then nods. “Yeah, they’re just wrapping up, and my dad said he’d take Bryan home once everyone was done.”
We make our way to the table and take a seat. For a brief second, I allow myself to soak her in again. The smell of her sweet perfume, her mannerisms, those addictive and expressive green eyes . . . memories that have taken over my mind every night since we broke up rush back to me.
Feeling a little uncomfortable since I’m not really good at this talking shit, I say, “Looks like you were having fun over there.”
She gives the group another look and then turns back toward me. “Yeah, Bryan’s really grown in the last year, trying different sports. I thought he was really into track and field until we introduced bowling to him. He loves it.”
“Looks like it.” I smile, but my smile quickly fades when I turn to Rory who looks like she’s about to cry.
She doesn’t skip a beat when she says, “What are you doing here, Colby?”
Doesn’t seem like she’s into pleasantries. With me. “I need to talk to you.”
“About Stryder?”
I grind my teeth together and say, “Him and other things.”
“What are the other things?”
“Are we doing this? Just jumping right into this mess, in the middle of a bowling alley?”
She shrugs. “Might as well.”
Okay then. “Why didn’t you respond to my letters?”
She sighs and leans back in her chair and that’s when I see it: the weakness in her shoulders, the bags under the eyes, and her pale complexion. Usually, Rory has a happy glow that’s contagious and can turn around anyone’s day. It almost feels like there is a dreary cloud hanging over her head.
“It was over between us, Colby. I wasn’t going to lead you on by writing back.”
“It wasn’t over for me, Rory.”
She fiddles with her hands on her lap. “I know it wasn’t, but it had to be. I know enough about the Air Force now to know your job doesn’t allow any flexibility in where you are stationed. Why would I foster hope if I knew it wasn’t going to work out?”
“I offered to stay and be there for you.”
“And we both know that would have been a mistake, Colby. Don’t kid yourself. If you weren’t flying, you wouldn’t be happy, and you’d end up resenting me.”
“That’s not true.”
She gives me a get real look and shakes her head. “Colby, I know you, you would have been—”
“I would have had you.” I try to control my anger, but I can’t seem to quell the urge to yell. “I would have had you, and that’s all that fucking mattered to me.”
She puts her head in her hand and leans forward, her shoulders slumped. A light sniffle comes from her as she says, “I can’t do this right now, Colby. I really can’t. I can’t hash out a relationship that was never going to work in the long run.” She lifts her head and wipes away her tears. “I need to go.”
“Wait.” I catch her arm before she can leave. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” She wipes another tear. “Stryder left me. That’s what’s wrong.”
She’s . . . devastated. She was putting on a good face for the athletes but sitting here now, she looks exhausted, like she has no energy left to give, and that’s very unlike her. Even though she’s trying desperately to stop her tears, they keep coming, dripping down her face in a stream of sorrow.
I think back to Stryder. He didn’t fight me back. He just . . . collapsed in front of me, completely ruined.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek. I think back to the day of the funeral, the way she leaned into his touch, as if she couldn’t have stood on her own. As if he meant everything to her . . .
Feeling sick to my stomach but needing to know the truth, I ask, “Do you love him, Rory?”
She nods, almost before I can finish my question. “I love him so much.” She takes in a shaky breath. “He’s my best friend.”
Like a dagger straight to my heart, I’m knocked by the emotion and passion she has for a man I used to share everything with. Sitting back, I push my hand through my hair trying to comprehend what this means.
Is this it?
From the look of it, the answer is yes. Rory ended our relationship, something I foolishly and so desperately cherished and held onto.
“You love him,” I state, still trying to understand.
“I do.” She scoots closer on her seat and takes my hand in hers. I squeeze my eyes shut from the feel of her palm against mine, her delicate hand held in my large and calloused one. “Colby, none of this happened while you and I were together.”
“But he loved you when we were together.” That much I know.
“And never once acted on it. Ever. If anything, he pushed me away at times, and I thought that maybe he didn’t like me as a friend, especially toward the end.”
“What changed?�
� I rub my thumb over the back of her hand, reveling in this small moment, in being able to hold her one more time, even if it’s while we talk about another man.
She takes a deep breath. “You left. Hardie and Joey left. He had no one. You saw how he was before graduation, but it was one hundred times worse. He was lost and out of control. He was drunk and needed help, so he called Ryan.”
“He called Ryan?” What the fuck?
“He did, and since we were hanging out, I went with her.” Letting out a shaky sigh, she grips my hand tighter. “If you were there, Colby, you would have lost it on him. He was so drunk and looked like absolute shit. He was at rock-bottom and it scared me. I felt a sense of responsibility to take care of him because he was your best friend. I couldn’t leave him there, so Ryan and I got him away from the poison that is his father, and took him in. He stayed with me on the weekends and stayed with Ryan during the weekdays. His father was poisoning him with his words. He was torn apart watching his friends take off for flight school when he was stuck back in the Springs. And . . . and you weren’t there for him.”
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. What the fuck? “Excuse me?”
Growing a little taller in her seat, shoulders set back, Rory says, “He needed you, Colby.”
“He was the one who left without saying a word, and I fucking needed him too. I lost the love of my goddamn life. You think that was easy on me?”
