Maybe Abby was so accustomed to being resented that she automatically felt that way. Maybe that’s what happened when your dad didn’t love you properly, or even like you, really.
“Hello?” Abby said. “You still there?”
Ryan’s eyes snapped to her, but she was focused on the road. He realized belatedly she’d been talking. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
She waved him off. “Just whining about Lewis. I don’t want to think about him anymore. Want to listen to music?”
“Sure.”
She fiddled with the dial, and a Skillet song filled the car, an up-tempo, driving rhythm.
Ryan’s thoughts backtracked to his previous thread. Was it possible there was a connection between the way Abby’s dad made her feel and the way Ryan had made her feel? He was no Dr. Phil, but she’d used the word three times in three days to describe three different situations.
Landscape passed, blurred by speed and by his heavy thoughts. He tried to puzzle it all out, but he thought he might need a psychology degree to figure out what had gone wrong in their marriage.
The music got quiet, and he realized Abby had turned it down. “You’re thinking awful heavy thoughts over there.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You’ve got that sexy glower thing going on.”
His lips twitched. “Sexy, huh?”
“Duh.” She turned up the air. “So what’s spawning all these heavy thoughts? Or do I want to know?”
Telling her might resolve something. But it also might stir things up. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get so heavy with so few hours left before the end of their trip.
“Come on, lay it on me.” She sounded resigned. “You know you want to.”
He swallowed hard, looking at her profile. Wondering if he should chance it. But until they addressed what had happened between them, they didn’t stand a chance at a future together. And he wanted that chance so badly.
“I was just thinking about—remember when you asked me if I resented you? After we lost the baby?”
Her eyes tightened. “Yeah. Why? Were you lying when you said no?”
He blinked at her. “No, Abby. I’ve never lied to you. I never resented you for one second.” He turned to face her, his knees hitting the console.
“Okay. You were saying . . .”
He regarded her for a long moment, taking in the tightened corners of her mouth. The subtle way her shoulders had drawn in. The way her hand lay clenched on her lap. He shouldn’t have brought this up. Not now.
“You know what?” he said lightly. “Let’s not talk about this. I just want to enjoy the rest of our trip.”
She gave him a withering look. “You can’t do that. You can’t bring up a subject like that and leave me hanging.”
“I just don’t think now is the best time to—”
“Then when, Ryan? We’ll be home in a matter of hours, and we have this enormous wedge called our past between us. Honestly, I’m not real eager to dig into that, but you brought it up, so finish it.”
He sighed. He was getting the feeling Abby’s full-court press was less about resolution and more about rebuilding the wall. But she was like a dog with a bone when she got like this. She could dig and dig and dig until he was ready to explode.
He worked to keep his tone quiet and calm. “I just realized, when you were talking about Lewis, you used the word resent. The same word you used with me.” He paused, regarding her closely. “The same word you used with your dad.”
Her nose flared. “And your point?”
“I don’t doubt that your dad resented you. Based on the way he treated you and knowing how your mom tricked him into parenthood, you’re perfectly justified for feeling that way.”
“But . . .”
He tilted his head at her. “Abby, don’t be mad.”
“Spit it out, Ryan. What are you trying to say?”
Dang it. Why had he started this? “I just wonder if they’re connected, that’s all.” Maybe he could leave it at that. Let her puzzle it out.
That dark, heavy thing inside Abby swelled into a mass so big she felt consumed by it. She hated feeling this way. Hated that Ryan was making her feel this way. Why did he always have to figure things out? Like he was trying to fix her.
“Connected how?” she asked, somehow sure she didn’t want to know and yet feeling the need to press him further.
“I don’t know. I mean, maybe your dad made you feel that way, and now you feel that way about yourself. Maybe sometimes you think other people resent you when they really don’t.”
She felt as if he’d just ripped her wide open for the world to see. Heat filled her cheeks. Her pulse pounded in her temple. “So you’re saying I just manufactured that feeling with you. That you really didn’t do anything to make me feel that way. That our problems were all my fault.”
“No, Abby. No, I’m just—I’m saying this wrong. I’m not being clear.”
“Oh, you’re being perfectly clear. You think the divorce was my fault.”
“I don’t think—”
“Of course it was. I just imagined you resented me. I probably imagined all your long hours too, and while we’re at it, I probably imagined you still had a thing for Cassidy.”
“I didn’t have a thing for Cassidy! I told you that.”
“And yet, I walk into her office and find you perched on her desk, flirting.”
“I wasn’t flirting!”
Stop, Abby. What are you doing? She didn’t even believe that anymore. But that dark, heavy thing pressed her on.
“You’re the one who lost interest in me. You’re the one who neglected me. If you want someone to blame, maybe you should look in the mirror.”
Boo crawled into Ryan’s lap. Abby curled her fists around the steering wheel. Her heart pummeled her ribs, and her lungs were being squeezed by a vise, not allowing enough oxygen. A hot flush spread across her chest. She jabbed at the temperature button.
This was a mistake. It was all a mistake. Why had she let him close again? Now she was going to be hurt. Who was she kidding? She was already hurt. The ache inside was squeezing into a small, hard knot.
“Am I getting too close?” he said, his voice tight. “Are you having feelings for me? We wouldn’t want that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re pushing me away, Abby.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He ran his hand over his jaw and caught the hair at his nape in a tight grip.
The action tore at her heart. She swallowed hard against the hard knot in her throat. “I told you from the beginning I was complicated. I told you you didn’t want me. I tried to warn you.”
Somewhere in the distance Boo whimpered.
“Pull over,” Ryan snapped.
At his sharp tone, Abby looked over at him. Her eyes dropped to Boo, who quivered on his lap.
Crap. She swung the car into the emergency lane, hitting the brakes.
Boo made it till she got outside, but things were still tense when they got back on the road. Ryan’s jaw was like a rock and she didn’t care, because she was mad too. He wasn’t taking responsibility for his part in their failed marriage. He wanted to think it was all her fault.
But it wasn’t. She hadn’t imagined the neglect and resentment. She sure hadn’t imagined all the arguments, all the hurtful words.
Especially the last ones.
She’d waited up for him that night, seething. She looked over at the meal she’d prepared hours ago. The filets she’d spent a fortune on sat like cold bricks in the middle of their wedding china. The béarnaise sauce congealed in the little pots bought just for the occasion. She’d long since extinguished the candles.
She should’ve put the plates in the fridge, but she’d just kept thinking he’d be home any minute. And then too much time had passed. Now she only wanted him to see how her efforts had gone to waste.
Why wasn’t he he
re? Or even answering her texts? He was gone before she woke that morning, but they’d made these plans several days ago. They’d discussed going out to dinner to celebrate their anniversary, but it was a work night, and football practice had just started up, and she knew he’d never get away in time to make the drive to Louisville. There was always some kid needing extra help or some coach who wanted to go over their plays.
Or so he said.
She thought back to the previous weekend when she’d seen Ryan and Cassidy talking at the school fund-raiser. Remembered the way Cassidy had tossed her head back, laughing at something he’d said. Then his eyes had scanned the room and caught on Abby. He’d parted ways with Cassidy, joining Abby at the appetizer table, but that hadn’t stopped the gnawing ache in her middle.
She looked over at the table, at the meal she’d taken so much time to prepare. He’d forgotten their anniversary. He’d forgotten her. Was he really with his coaches? His players?
The dark, achy spot swelled inside, making her heart pound, her skin flush. Their marriage had become a battle zone, teetering between stony silence and angry words. Why had she even bothered with a celebration when their relationship was so tenuous?
Clearly Ryan didn’t think there was anything to celebrate. But then, he’d been forced into the marriage with his Midwestern conviction to “do the right thing” by her. Look where that had gotten him. Stuck in a marriage he’d never wanted.
The silence of the house was suddenly overwhelming, the ticking of the clock absent. She looked at it against the wall, hulking and still, its pendulum motionless, the weights hanging heavily at the bottom of the cabinet. She couldn’t find the motivation to wind it.
The rumble of an engine sounded, and a moment later a car door closed. Her pulse beat up into her throat. She was wired, like she’d had three cups of coffee, and one leg ticked back and forth over the other one. He was three hours late. She locked her jaw down, and her eyes darted to the front door as it swung open.
Ryan’s eyes caught on hers as he crossed the threshold. At his wary look she wondered if there was steam coming from the top of her head.
“Hi,” he said cautiously, shutting the door. “Sorry I’m—” His eyes caught on the dining room table, and she saw it register. His eyes widened, his jaw went slack.
“Oh my gosh. Abby . . .”
“Don’t even, Ryan.” She jumped up from the sofa, needing something to do. Needing something else to look at. He’d forgotten her. Had forgotten them. Her blood pounded in her head as she pulled the plates from the table.
He followed her into the kitchen, where she dumped the food into the trash.
“Abby. I’m so sorry. It totally slipped my mind today. One of the coaches was out sick and—”
“Save it, Ryan.” Whose voice was that, so hard and cold?
“I’ll take you out tomorrow night. Someplace nice in Louisville. I’ll make a reservation in the—”
“It’s too late.”
Her eyes caught his as she moved toward the sink, and she felt a jolt of sympathy at the regret on his face.
No. No. He’d been the one to do this. He didn’t want her, and he’d made it perfectly clear how little she meant to him. Her lungs tightened at the thought, not giving enough as she tried to draw in her breath.
“What can I do to make it up to you?”
“You can’t make it up. Your feelings are perfectly clear.”
He took her arm. “I didn’t do this on purpose, Abby. I got busy, and it slipped my mind.”
“Football practice doesn’t slip your mind. Your defensive line and your precious all-state quarterback don’t slip your mind. Just me, Ryan. Why is that?”
“That’s my job . . .” His defensive tone made an appearance.
“Is that even where you were tonight?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think you know exactly what it means.”
“Cassidy? You’re bringing her into this? I was at work, Abby. Helping a player who pulled his hamstring. The trainer had to leave early to pick up her kids.”
She scraped the congealed remains from the plate. “It’s not just your job, it’s your life. You’re never here, Ryan. And even when you are, you’re on the phone with the coaches, or texting your players, or working on that stupid playbook. It’s like you don’t even want to be here!”
“Why would I? All you do is pick at me from the time I wake up to the time I go to bed. Of course I’d rather be at work! I’d rather be anyplace else!”
The darkness expanded inside until she couldn’t draw her next breath. She dropped the plate in the sink. It landed with a crack.
She turned to him, dropping the shutters over her eyes, making her face a careful mask of indifference. “You don’t want to be with me, Ryan? Fine. I can arrange that.”
She dashed past him, grabbing her purse from the counter on her way past. A white noise funneled in between her ears so loud and consuming she almost felt numb with it. She reached for the handle.
“Abby.”
She waited on the threshold without turning. She didn’t want to see the look on his face. She waited for the rest of it. For the part where he’d tell her to come back. Where he’d say he loved her, and he was sorry. Where he’d call her Red and say he’d do anything to make things better again. But there was only quiet. Not even the ticking of the grandfather clock.
So she spoke for him. “It’s over this time, Ryan.” Her voice was measured carefully, not a hint of the earthquake trembling inside. “Don’t call me, don’t text me, don’t even look at me. We’re done.”
She left, closing the door quietly behind her. In the deepest reaches of her heart she thought he might stop her. Even as she got in her car, she expected him to pound on the window. Minutes later, when she handed her credit card to the hotel clerk, she thought he might rush through the door and beg her to come home. Even as she slipped into the stale-smelling, darkened hotel room she entertained one last pitiful hope that he might call despite her instructions not to.
But her phone remained silent, and the darkness inside grew heavy and oppressive, stifling. She looked around the shadowed room. It was quiet and empty. Night had fallen, and only the faintest lights leaked through the heavy curtains.
What have you done, Abby? said one voice.
If he’d wanted you to stay, he would’ve stopped you, another replied.
He didn’t want her anymore. But he’d never come out and say so. He had let her leave. That said it all, didn’t it?
The white noise rose up inside, deafening. The numbness was fading and pain rushed into its place, dark and heavy, all of it stuffed into her unyielding lungs. She leaned against the recessed wall of the closet. The metal hangers clanked together as she hit them, a chiming cacophony. Her back slid down the wall until she came to rest on the floor. She focused on her breathing. She pulled in the stale air and breathed out, imagining all the darkness going with it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
FIVE LONG HOURS LATER RYAN STILL FELT LIKE A WIRE pulled too tight, about to snap. The tension in the car vibrated around them. He’d tried to make light conversation at first, but Abby’s responses were short and abrupt. He’d offered to drive, but she hadn’t taken him up on it yet.
Darkness had fallen, and they’d left the car only long enough to walk Boo and order inside McDonald’s.
He looked at her from the corner of his eyes. Her posture was stiff and unyielding, her face a careful mask of indifference. She was still angry, and he didn’t have the luxury of time.
You’re losing her again.
The thought made his gut twist hard. He thought of his empty house waiting at the end of the journey, his empty bed, his empty heart.
Butch up, McKinley.
Good grief, he sounded like a little girl. She made him desperate. She always had. He had to do something. Say something. He couldn’t let it end this way, not when he’d come so close to having her again.
> Please, God. I don’t want to go back to life without her. You sent me on this journey, didn’t you? You have to help me. Help us. I want my wife back. You created marriage; You know how it works and why it doesn’t, and You know everything about Abby and me. God, I can’t lose her again. I just can’t.
He closed his eyes, laid his head back. Yeah, she was a pain in the butt sometimes. She could make him angry like no one else, but he loved her. If he could only convince her to give them another chance. If only she’d stop pushing him away.
But they were already in Pennsylvania, and they weren’t even talking. It was late. Soon they’d breeze across the Ohio state line and be one state away from Chapel Springs. He’d never wished for road construction so hard in all his life.
He turned toward her, his knees coming close to hers. “Can we talk?”
She turned off the air. “I think we’ve done enough talking for today.”
“Just let me talk then. All you have to do is listen.”
A car passed, its headlights illuminating her face. Her lips were pressed together, her expression pinched. In a few short hours they’d part, and he’d be at the mercy of voicemails and unanswered texts. For now she was a captive audience, and he was going to take full advantage of that.
“I know all of this happened fast between us. There’s a lot of water under the bridge. I get that. But we’re older now. We’ve had time and distance, a better perspective. We can work through the problems we had.”
He wished it weren’t nighttime. It was impossible to read her face in the shadowed car.
“But we don’t have to make any decisions. We don’t even have to talk about any of that stuff. We can take it slow. I won’t rush you. I can come see you next weekend, or you could come to Chapel Springs.” He imagined her pulling into his drive and realizing he’d bought her dream house.
“I’ll come your way,” he said. “You can show me around your neighborhood. We’ll hang out. Have a good time. How’s that sound?”
A car passed, its headlights shining across the white ridges of her knuckles. She swallowed, and then her face was in the shadows again.
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