“Can’t we just… go back to how things were?” I pleaded with her, looking into her eyes and knowing her anguish was reflected in my own gaze.
She shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “We all thought you were dead. I can’t…” She swallowed hard. “There’s no coming back from that.”
There was no coming back from what I’d been through either, but she would never, ever know the truth. She’d never understand. She’d insist on trying to find out who’dtaken me, and she’d never stop trying to find him — to find him, and to punish him for what he’d done.
Once, I’d have been vindictively happy about that, but now…
Now, I had to protect him at all costs.
What he’d done had been wrong, nightmarish, but… I understood more than I’d ever thought I could. It hadn’t been until he’d fallen ill that I’d truly gotten it, that I’d understood how someone could become so utterly twisted. There was a good heart inside of him regardless of his exterior, and I’d seen it even before he’d let me go.
He had to have expected me to go to the police, to point fingers and name him as my captor. But he’d set me free anyway, despite knowing what the consequences could be.
Maybe that was part of why I hadn’t named him as the reason I’d been gone for so long, but he would punish himself far more than any penal system could. I’d seen as much in his eyes. My leaving had pushed him one step closer to the edge he’d been living on for so long, and I was scared to think of what he might do now that he was all alone.
It wasn’t as though he had anyone to talk to. He hadn’t had any friends, and I was pretty sure he’d pushed away anyone who hadn’t pushed him away first. And I understood why, really and truly understood, in ways I’d never thought possible. They hadn’t wanted him, and they’d pushed him aside.
“I’m going upstairs,” I told her abruptly, getting up from the couch.
She rose too, reaching for my arm, but I shook her off.
“I just need to be alone for a little while.”
For longer than that. I knew why he’d withdrawn from the world now. They’d never be able to understand what itwas like to be broken and try to rise from the ashes, only to be rebuffed by everyone around them. They might’ve claimed they were trying, but they just weren’t capable of seeing the truth.
I left her standing there, hand still outstretched, and returned to my room. I closed the door behind me, even going so far as to lock it, then I returned to my bed. My bed, at least, had welcomed me back without judgment or accusation, and I’d spent as much time there as I could since I’d returned. I didn’t want to get up, didn’t want to go out, didn’t want to face the world.
I stared up at the ceiling, pulling the covers up to my chest, and I imagined he was asleep beside me. I could rest then, with his warmth nearby. I’d gotten used to having someone close, and the absence was as tangible as his presence had been. I grabbed a pillow and curled onto my side around it, burying my face against it and pretending I was back there.
Why?
It didn’t even make any sense, even to me.
But there it was anyway, the knowledge that I’d go back if I thought I could.
The problem was…
There was no going back. There never was, and there never would be.
There was only moving forward.
20
GRIFFIN
Ilay in the darkness of my room, blackout curtains keeping out the sunlight and moonlight alike. I hadn’t known what time of day it was for weeks.
I didn’t care. What was the point? The world would keep spinning even without me being a part of it, just as it had for so long. It had never stopped for me before, and it never would. No matter how much I mourned the loss of Toby — the loss of Ryder — everything would continue as it always had.
For the most part, I left the bed only long enough to go to the bathroom and return. Some days were better than others — on those days, I showered and ate and worked and tried to tell myself that everything would be okay.
More often than not, though, deadlines came and went as I curled back up in the safety of my room and wished I hadn’t let him go.
It was selfish of me, and I knew that. I’d done terrible things to him, and he’d said he’d leave, given the chance — so I’d given him that chance, and he’d left.
I wondered how he was doing. He was probably thrivingat home, with his family and his girlfriend and his life, while I wilted away in the privacy of my own home.
It was only after he’d gone that I could admit to myself that I’d loved him.
