The silence was deafening. A niggle of dread wormed its way through his stomach.
“Look, Ryan,” she said finally. “I admit this trip may have been healthy for us. Our marriage ended badly, and we both had hard feelings. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had some lingering bitterness. But now we’ve had our closure, and I—”
“Closure?” A bolt of anger shot through him. He couldn’t believe she’d said that. “This is not closure. This is the opposite of closure.”
“We ended badly before.” Her voice was tight. “We can end things as friends now.”
“I am not your friend. You’re the freaking love of my life.” His voice cracked on the last word. His eyes burned, and a lump hardened in his throat.
“It would never work, Ryan.” Her voice shook.
“You don’t know that.”
She gave him a look he could read even in the dark. “I don’t know that? Are you kidding me? I was there last time. It wasn’t pretty.”
“I’m not the same person I was, Abby.”
“Well maybe I am. You just let me go, Ryan. You never once tried to stop me.”
“You left me.”
“That’s right, it’s all my fault.”
“That’s not what I mean!”
“Lower your voice!” She glanced over her shoulder toward Boo, who was snoring quietly in the back.
“You know I didn’t mean it that way. I know I worked too much. I’ve had three long years to think about all the ways I let you down. But I want what we had before. Before all the bad stuff happened.”
“There’s no such thing as time travel, Ryan. Are you forgetting all the fights, all the words, all the hurt? Do you really want to go there again? Because I don’t. It was hard enough the first time.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that. There were good times too. You’re forgetting all the good times.” His voice was thick with the need to make her remember. To make her feel the way she used to.
“Remember the long walks in the park, Abby? Remember laughing in the kitchen over my lousy casserole? Remember all the times we made love in the dark, in the middle of the night, when you’d—”
“Stop it. It didn’t stay like that. It wasn’t like that the whole last year of our marriage. It was tense and angry and hard. I can’t do that again. I don’t want to do that again.”
Ryan took a deep breath, trying to breathe away the anxiety crowding his lungs. Fight the tightness in his chest. God, please. I need words. He couldn’t blame her for being leery of getting hurt again.
He remembered the feel of her lips on his last night, this morning. She’d been responsive. So responsive, he’d felt down-right heady with it. She had feelings for him too, and that was the problem. She was scared. Hiding behind that wall again.
“All right,” he said. “We’ll slow down. Take some time to think about it. We can sit down and talk—”
She shook her head emphatically. “No, Ryan. Just no. No talks, no visits. It’s going to lead to a big fat disaster, and maybe you’re willing to risk that again, but I’m not.” She eased over to the right lane and pulled onto a ramp. “We need gas.”
“Talk to me, Abby.”
“I’m finished talking.” She slowed the car, signaling right. “After we fill up, I’ll need you to drive so I can get a nap.”
He didn’t see how she’d be able to sleep with the way things were right now. He was so wired with tension he couldn’t imagine sleeping for days.
He supposed she could always pretend though. And then she wouldn’t have to hear his pathetic pleas.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
ABBY’S NECK HAD A CRICK, AND SHE HAD A HEADACHE from driving, but she didn’t shift from her position against the passenger door. If Ryan knew she was awake he’d start in again, and she didn’t know if she was strong enough to keep saying no. She was worn down to a nub inside, her resistance pitifully low.
It started raining somewhere between Pittsburgh and Columbus. She curled up with her eyes closed, listening to the pattering on the rooftop and the wipers swishing intermittently across the windshield. Sleep lingered outside her grasp, her thoughts heavy with his words no matter how hard she tried to push them away.
He’d called her the love of his life. She could still hear the break in his voice, the hitch in his breath. He got to her. He seeped down inside and leaked into the tightest crevices of her heart.
But he could also slice her wide open and leave her an achy, raw mess. She couldn’t forget that.
Just a little while longer and you’ll be home free. She could go home and climb under the covers and begin the long, painful process of getting over Ryan again.
Ryan’s foot eased off the pedal as he passed the sign welcoming them to Chapel Springs. Rain washed down the windshield, running in frenzied rivulets. He blinked his aching eyes and tightened his fists on the steering wheel. He was five minutes from where he’d left his truck. Five minutes from their good-bye.
He glanced over at Abby. He wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep, but she’d finally drifted off. Her hands lay relaxed in her lap, and every now and then she made little sounds in her sleep. Everything in him had wanted to wake her and try again.
But waking Abby had never been a good idea. He didn’t have a pot of coffee to ease her to consciousness, and the topic he wanted to cover made her testy enough without adding sleep deprivation to it. Besides, she’d made her feelings pretty clear.
He slowed for a curve and passed the fire station and the Coachlight Coffeehouse. Main Street was quiet, the diagonal parking spaces empty, the shops closed up tight. Ahead, the Rialto Theater’s marquee lights marched in an endless rectangle.
Home.
It didn’t feel like home without Abby. His heart sat like a cinder block in his chest. His life was like those marquee lights, going round and round and never landing anywhere. He’d hoped this week would be the end of that.
I thought this was what You wanted, God. I thought I was supposed to win her back. Where are You?
He turned into the alley that led behind PJ’s restaurant. Gravel crunched under the tires. It had been a long week, but he had a feeling the coming days and weeks and months were going to stretch out even longer.
He pulled into the parking lot and eased into the spot next to his truck. He slid the car into Park and turned to look at Abby, who hadn’t yet stirred.
The streetlamp shone into the car, glowing dimly on her face. She was relaxed in sleep, her full lips slightly parted. He could see the faint sprinkle of freckles on her nose, the dark shadow of her lashes against the tops of her cheeks.
He should wake her. He would. But when he did, she’d be in a hurry to get home. She’d rush him from the car, and he had no excuse to keep her any longer.
Or did he?
Hope giving one last spark, he reached out and brushed her hair behind her ear, giving him full access to her face. Her hair glided like silk through his fingers.
“Abby,” he said softly.
Her lashes fluttered, opening. She stared blindly at the dash for a moment before she lifted her head. She blinked, and the dazed look faded.
“Why don’t I drive you to my place? You can get some sleep and leave in the morning.” He didn’t care anymore if she saw his house. Maybe it would be a good thing. Maybe she’d finally understand how much she meant to him.
Her eyes glanced off his. She rubbed a hand over her face. “What time is it?”
“A little after two. I think you only got a couple hours of sleep.”
She stretched. “I should get home.”
His heart sank to the bottom of his feet. “I don’t like you driving when you’re so tired.”
She unbuckled her belt. “I’m fine.”
“Just for a few hours. You can have my bed; I’ll take the couch.”
“I think it’s better if we part ways here,” she said, her voice firm, her face tightening.
His jaw clamped shut. Why was s
he always calling the shots? “Better for who?”
“For both of us,” she snapped. “This isn’t happening, Ryan. I’m sorry. Just let it go.”
“Like I did last time? Look where that got me. I don’t want another three years of heartache, Abby.”
“It wasn’t easy for me either. That’s the whole point. I’ve come too far to end up right back where I was. We both have. Let’s just spare ourselves all the pain and agony and say our good-byes.”
“It’ll be better this time. I’ll make sure of it. We can go to counseling and—”
“That’s a great way to kick off a relationship. We’re not even together and we already need counseling.” The rain picked up, pattering on the roof. “I’m getting my promotion, and I’m moving to St. Paul. Now please get out of the car so I can go.”
“Life just goes on like this never happened, is that it, Abby?”
“Yes, that’s it!”
He turned her face toward him. “Well, it did happen. I kissed you and I told you I love you. I spilled my guts. Didn’t that mean anything to you?”
Her eyes went blank. “Is this where you call me cold and stonehearted?”
“I said I was sorry!”
She jerked away, anger tightening the corners of her mouth. “Get out of the car, Ryan.”
His chest squeezed so tight he couldn’t breathe. “Come on, Abby.” The ache in his throat choked off his words.
“Get out.” She turned away, looked out the passenger window, her hair a curtain over her face.
His heart beat up in his throat, his pulse pounding erratically. She frustrated him, she made him angry. But he still loved her. And he couldn’t make her love him, not if she didn’t want to.
“I’m not the same man who let you walk away before. I’ll give you time, but it’s not over, Abby. Not by a long shot.”
He reached for the handle, telling himself he’d call her in a couple days after she calmed down. After he found better words.
He pulled his bag from her car and gave Boo one last pet. Then he stood in the rain and watched her pull away, watched the taillights disappear into the night, while he rubbed at the spot over his heart, wondering if the ache would ever go away.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“I’VE GOT THE MOVIE AND I’M ON MY WAY.”
Abby frowned at Gillian’s proclamation. “Uhh . . .” She lifted her foot off the accelerator and shifted the phone.
“You totally forgot,” her friend said.
Abby winced. She totally had. Last Friday of the month was movie night with her best friend. “I am so backed up. I’m not even home from work yet; I’ve been stalking a guy since ten a.m. with nothing to show for it. And I’m three chapters behind in my class.”
“Nope. Not getting out of it.”
“I have to work tomorrow. Early.”
Gillian sighed. “I spent my day seeing a client with bipolar disorder who won’t take his meds, an alcoholic who habitually betrays his wife, and a twelve-year-old with an eating disorder, among others. I am not relinquishing movie night.”
“That does sound like a challenging day.”
“It’s the new Matt Damon movie . . .”
Abby pulled into the apartment parking lot. “Fine, you win. I’ll order the pizza.”
Awhile later she was lying with her head resting on the arm of the couch, Boo curled in the nook behind her knees. Gillian grabbed a cold slice of pizza from the coffee table and shifted on the floor.
Abby had lost track of what was happening on-screen. She’d faded away for a few minutes early in the movie, and she’d been lost ever since.
Two days. She’d said good-bye to him two days ago. Technically one day, if you accounted for the fact it was two a.m. She’d been working her butt off at work, enduring Lewis’s smug smiles and trying to get her legs under her again.
But PI work meant lots of time sitting, lots of waiting, and her mind had been quick to wander back to their road trip, lingering on the days at the fishing shack.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out in case it was work. But the caller ID didn’t say Frank. She silenced the phone, her heart beating a million miles per hour while she stared at the lit screen.
She was one swipe away from talking to him. But what would she say? Nothing had changed. The screen showed a missed call, then went dark. She put it back in her pocket and fixed her eyes on the TV, wondering what he wanted. If he missed her the way she missed him.
The movie paused. Matt Damon froze in the middle of a car chase, an unflattering glower on his face.
“It’s not much fun to watch a movie alone.”
“I’m right here.”
“You’re a million miles away. I can hear you ruminating over top of the vociferous on-screen explosions.”
“Is that even a word?” Abby knew changing the subject wouldn’t work. Gillian knew her too well. Plus her friend was trained in all the body language stuff, which made lying tricky.
“Are you ever going to tell me what happened?”
Again, sometimes it blew to have a psychologist for a best friend. “I don’t know what to say.”
Gillian twisted, resting her forearm on the cushion beside Abby’s knee. “Was it the going back home part or the whole ex-husband thing that got you?”
“B. And for the record, he just called.”
“You didn’t answer.”
“Your powers of deduction are astounding.”
“So the chemistry’s still there, huh?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. You’ve been staring into space since I hit Play.”
Abby rolled onto her back, waiting for Boo to hop down. The dog crossed the room and cuddled up in her bed, propping her head on her stuffed frog toy.
“A lot happened. Things were rough on the trip down, contentious. I guess I was still pretty angry from the divorce, and maybe I was a tiny bit prickly. But he was nice despite that, and he kind of nursed me through a migraine, and he was sweet with Boo . . . Then there was all the pretense with my parents, which made everything—”
“Wait, you still haven’t told your parents?”
Abby gave her friend a look. “—confusing.”
Gillian shook her head and tsked.
“Is this how you treat your clients?”
“You’re not paying me to be polite.” Gillian took a sip of her Coke. “You’ve never really said what went wrong with your marriage.”
Abby didn’t talk much about herself. Not about the things that really mattered. Her relationship with Gillian wasn’t like that—at least it hadn’t been until lately—and she preferred it that way.
She shrugged, sitting up and draining the rest of her watery soda. “Same stuff that usually goes wrong, I guess.”
Gillian tilted her head. “Listen. Take it from me, there’s no usual about it. And trust me, I’ve heard all the reasons ranging from the absurdly clichéd to the completely ludicrous. You’d be surprised what can split apart a sacred union.”
Abby thought of the look on Ryan’s face as she’d pulled away. Standing under the moonlight, clutching his duffel to his chest. She couldn’t get that picture out of her head. He’d looked so forlorn.
She swallowed around the achy lump forming in her throat. “For a while there I let myself think it might work between us this time. I guess I let him back in a little.”
“Call me crazy, but it appears to be more than a little.”
“He wants to give us another chance.”
“And what do you want?”
Deep inside, her heart yearned for what they’d had in those early days. She longed to be loved the way he’d loved her. But it was the fallout that made her shake her head no.
“Did you ever consider that his going on that trip had less to do with his cousin and more to do with winning you back?”
Abby’s eyes connected with Gillian’s. “No. He and Beau are really close. Beau just lost his d
ad—his only parent—and he’s trying to work a full-time job and run his dad’s business too. Ryan wanted to check in on him.”
Gillian took a sip. “Is Ryan destitute?”
Abby frowned, shaking her head in a What? way. “I don’t—think so.”
“Afraid of flying?”
“No . . .”
“Abby, I hate to point out the obvious, but he could’ve made that trip on his own and taken a lot less time and—ahem—flack doing it.”
Abby blinked at her. But he hadn’t—he’d been—She thought back to the first few days, shaking her head. “No. It wasn’t like that. The first half of the trip he barely tolerated me.”
His words flashed suddenly in her mind. I love you, Abby. I’ve never stopped.
Oh.
Oh.
“I see it’s all sinking in.”
Her heart lurched in her chest. Her breath caught in her throat. Is that really why he’d come along? “Why didn’t he just tell me?”
Gillian grimaced. “Um, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but you can be a bit . . . skittish, at times.”
She regarded Gillian. “You’re saying I might not have let him come?”
“I’m saying you might’ve kicked him out on the side of the highway while going sixty-five.”
She gave her friend a sour look. “Wow, tell me what you really think.”
Gillian set her glass on the coffee table. “Listen, sweetie, it all comes down to this. Either you give it another try and work to correct what went wrong, or you stay far, far away.”
Despite her friend’s lack of tact, Abby knew Gillian was right. “For a shrink you sure lack a bedside manner.”
Gillian gave her a look.
“The real problem is I don’t know what went wrong. It seemed like one day we were happy and in love, and the next we were arguing all the time.”
“I can assist with that, you know.”
Abby stared at her friend. Maybe Gillian could get to the bottom of it. But just the thought of that fired off warning signals inside. The dark thing inside swelled, tightening her lungs and squeezing the breath from her. She didn’t want to dig inside and open up all that painful stuff. She wanted to push it down and bury it deeper so she didn’t have to think about any of it.
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