nicer than some of the other guys, more laid back. He didn’t… he wasn’t always pushing me.” I cleared my throat again; a little surprised I admitted that much. I couldn’t bear to look at Ryder, I was too embarrassed but I felt his body tense until he was rigid and every muscle was hard. “Um, anyway, Sam and I clicked in a way that I hadn’t ever clicked with anybody before and I don’t know. When it was time to break up with him, I just couldn’t. I liked him, like really liked him. So we dated for a while, almost four months. But things started to get serious and I wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t really ready for that either, you know? But he thought he was. And then, it was spring and he had this scholarship to play basketball out of state, but he started talking about staying here and giving it up, just to be close to me. I didn’t mean to do that to him, to ruin his life. I just liked being around him, I just wanted a little bit of a break from the constant wannabe date rapists and…. I just…. For the first time, Sam saw me, really me, not the pretty package I’m wrapped in and I was selfish with that.” A tear slipped down my cheek but I was too wrapped up in the ugly memories to wipe it away. “But I couldn’t let him give up his scholarship. Or stay here for me. He needed to live his life, and he wouldn’t…. couldn’t see that. So I broke up with him. I had to, I mean it was time. But he took it really, really hard. And then we were at this party. We didn’t go together, but we ran into each other there. And he was drunk, like really, really drunk. But when he saw me…. He just broke. I broke him. And then he stormed out of the party, so I chased after him; I mean I couldn’t let him drive like that. But he was bigger than me and I called for help, but everyone there was pretty much toasted. And anyway, I jumped in the car with him, thinking I could, I don’t know, convince him to stop, or pull over or something. But he was pissed, and so…. hurt. He just took off and before I knew it we were on the wrong side of the road going like seventy-five and then…. and the next thing I knew I was in the hospital. I had buckled my seatbelt, but Sam had not. No one else was hurt, he crashed into the median and the car flipped and rolled eventually into a light pole, but it was late enough that there weren’t any other cars on the road. Sam was thrown from the car on the first roll, but the car landed on top of him. He’s in a wheelchair now, and he won’t be able to talk ever again, or walk again. He’ll never be able to play basketball again.” The tears were streaming now, huge, messy rivers of tears that mixed with snot and ran down my face. I wiped at my face with my sleeves and makeup and wetness stained the white fabric.
Ryder let me hiccup a sob one time before he pulled me against his chest and wrapped his arms around me. One hand tangled in the back of my hair, pressing my skull against his breastbone, and the other hugged me around the waist so that there was absolutely no space between us. More sobs burst from my lungs, like lava from a volcano and they came in a torrential downpour of emotion I wasn’t prepared for.
Emotion I promised myself was buried away.
“Ivy, what happened to Sam is not your fault. He should never have been driving and he should never have tried to medicate his pain with alcohol. You cannot blame yourself,” Ryder ordered in a hoarse, pained whisper.
“Yes, I can,” I snapped, the sadness abruptly replaced with anger. “You have no idea. Everything was my fault. Everything.”
Ryder pulled away from me and tried to look in my eyes, but I ducked my head away. I was ashamed and ugly with emotion.
Finally, he settled on, “Why is it your fault, Ivy?”
“Because of who I am!” I screamed at him. I was tired of his calm, placating tone. He couldn’t sooth me, not this. This was pain he couldn’t