I assume it was by the grace of God that I kept my shit together on top of those wooden stairs. “Ryker, I’m not seeing anyone else, it’s just you.” I swallowed hard and tried to pull my wrist out of his grip.
“Then why haven’t we been having sex, Natalie? What is it? Am I damaged to you? Is it because I’m going to reenlist that you’re finding someone else to take my spot?”
What?
I really wanted to say that out loud, but knew it would anger him more.
“Ryker, we had sex yesterday . . .” I thought maybe if I kept saying his name, he’d remember who he was—who he really was.
“No, we didn’t, you weren’t even here yesterday. I was . . . I was . . .” Suddenly he dropped my hand and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, seeming to try to clear his head.
I took that opportunity to haul ass down the stairs. Self-preservation was high on my list that night. When he pulled his hands away, it took a second to register that I was at the bottom of the stairs with my hand on the doorknob. I’d intended on just getting the hell out of there, but he met me at the door.
“Natalie, shit, I’m so sorry.” In a flash, he was back. He was holding my shoulders and kissing my face over and over again before reaching for my wrist. “Did I hurt you? Fuck.”
“No,” I cautiously exhaled, “you didn’t. But, um,” my chin quivered as I was about to lose it in front of him for the first time, “I’m really scared, Ry.” I said no more before burying my face into his chest and releasing heavy sobs onto his shirt.
We sank to the floor with our backs against the front door as he held me.
“Me too,” he whispered. “Me too.”
We never made it to dinner. I think we both knew he was gone that night, but we sat huddled and crying on the floor anyway. If I could go back and change things between us, it would start that night and go every night thereafter until the night I ended up in the hospital.
* * *
I don’t have to wear a short dress to Eric’s graduation.
This is what I’m telling myself as I race into the bathroom after my boys are fast asleep and I’m, obviously, alone in the apartment. Eric is distant one minute, and telling me he loves me the next. There’s something wrong with Oliver, and no matter how big or small, I know I’ll be dealing with it alone. And, for some reason, not only am I unable to shake thoughts of Ryker from my mind, but they seem to be taking over more of my headspace as the days go by.
Finding fresh skin between my hip and thigh, I brace myself for the extra pain that sensitive area brings. Three seconds later I’m reveling in the release, tricking my brain into protecting me from a dangerous situation. I exhale in satisfaction, like someone who’s just taken a sip of one hundred-year-old whiskey for the first time.
In the stillness of the moment, I can hear Ryker’s sweet voice, “Don’t do this, Nat.” Only, he never said that—we didn’t get that far.
“Natalie?” Eric calls as he walks in the apartment.
Shit.
Jumping up, I toss the razor into the trash—having no time to clean it—and turn on the shower. “Just getting in the shower, hon, be out in a few.”
As soon as I close the curtain, the bathroom door opens. “Can I join you?” Eric’s tone is playful, which annoys me. Then I look at the blood trailing down my thigh.
Shit. Shit. Shit. He can’t see this.
“Jesus, Eric, can I have thirty-five seconds without someone in my space?” My tone is a little harsher than I planned but, hey, self-preservation.
“Man,” he scoffs, “sorry.” He slams the door.
I press my forehead into the shower wall, grateful that I just bought myself more time, but feeling slightly bad about snapping at Eric. My mind is racing a thousand miles an hour and there’s only one thing that can put the brakes on; but I threw it in the trash a few minutes ago.
When I dry off from the shower and my skin is no longer bleeding, I change into my pajamas and find Eric watching TV in the living room.
I pour myself a glass of water. “Sorry for snapping at you, today was