CHAPTER 4
RYAN
My eyes spring open at the sound of Nyx’s coffee machine percolating, the almost rhythmic drip, drip, drip pulling me out of my stupor and what was a pretty shitty sleep on an old lumpy couch. Scrubbing my hands over my face I stifle a yawn and pull myself up with a groan, fuck I feel old. Having barely slept, my body was tired, and my back twisted from springs digging into my side all night.
“Oh good, you’re awake. Care to explain what happened yesterday?” Nyx asks. Her words may have sounded harsh, but the sympathy in her eyes told me she was only concerned and not put out by my showing up unannounced. She hands me a cup of steaming coffee and joins me on the couch.
“What happened, sweetie?” She places her small hand on my thigh and waits, clearly knowing I need to gather my thoughts before I can even begin to rehash everything that happened between Drew and me, hell, everything that has happened the last few months.
Sighing heavily, I keep my gaze on the old rug below my bare feet, unable to bear the look of pity she will give me.
“I left him,” I state with a shrug of my shoulders as if that will explain everything, but of course, it explains nothing. After the first shock in her eyes, she composes herself patiently and waits for me to continue.
“Things between us have been...” Fuck, what have they been? Non-existent? “Strained.” I decide to go with that, and I see her nodding from the corner of my eye.
“Was that why he wasn’t at the show the other night?” I quickly shake my head with a huff of a laugh escaping as I remember why Drew hadn’t been at the show.
"He had better things to do. He always has better things to do," I grunt and take a long sip of the still pretty scalding coffee, but I use it to give myself a moment before continuing.
"I mean, I've always known who Drew is and what he's working toward. He's Mr. Big Shot lawyer, after all," and I love that about him. He's so driven and ambitious. It was one of the things I loved most about him in the beginning. Nyx stays quiet letting me get this all out.
"I guess I never stopped to think what that would look like for me. He was never home lately, and we didn't spend any time together." He'd leave my messages on read for days, and if we did manage to find ourselves in the same room at the same time, he had his laptop out instead of his cock.
"Fuck, I can't even tell you the last time we kissed, let alone anything else. How fucked up is that? But you know what the worst part is? He doesn't give a fuck. He didn't even try to make the show like it wasn't a big deal."
"He didn't even apologize for not showing up, just arrived home yesterday -the next fucking day- ready to celebrate his good news," I say, lifting my head to look at her, having spilled my guts at her feet. She's sitting back on the couch, her knees brought up against her as she nurses her coffee cup close to her chest, trying to digest everything I just laid on her.
“How long has it been like this?” She asks, offering me a soft smile and encouraging me to keep going. I guess it’s obvious I have some pent-up shit eating at me.
"Seven, eight months maybe I… I just don't see an end to it. Drew says once he makes Partner that over time, it will stop, that he'll have so much more money, like I give a fuck about the money. I'm lonely all the damn time.
Do you know, the night of the show, when I got home and he wasn't there, I wondered for a moment if he was cheating on me, and I didn't even care. I feel like we're just roommates who met on Craigslist a week ago.
Maybe it's because of my past, my asshole ex, or fuck, maybe I just have daddy issues, but whatever it is, I can't live like that anymore. I can't live alone in a house that's supposed to be a home, waiting for him to decide I'm worth coming home to." Blowing out a long breath, I stand up, my skin feeling itchy.
I need a shower, or Prozac, or something. Anything to stop the voices in my head telling me that people don't care about me and never will, no matter what I do. "Can I use your shower?" I ask, running my hands down the worn jeans I slept in last night. She nods solemnly like she knows there's more to this but isn't going to push me right now.
"Yeah, sweetie, you shower, and I'll call Gavin and let him know you need your appointments for today rescheduled. I don't think it's a good idea for you to be putting permanent ink on anybody right now," she tells me as she stands and rubs her hands down my arms, not giving me the option to say no, she turns my body and nudges me toward the stairs.
Stepping out of a long, hot shower, I wrap a towel around my still-wet body and stand looking at myself in the mirror. The dark circles under my eyes aren't anything surprising. I haven't slept properly in two days… is that all the time that's passed? Two days since I decided to leave the man I believed I would spend the rest of my life with?
The decision still sits heavy on my chest, like part of me wonders if maybe I overreacted or should have given him more time, but how could I? We didn't have a relationship anymore, not really. Not a healthy one, anyway.
All Drew cared about was work, but then maybe that's all he ever cared about, and I was so blinded by my love for the man that I didn't see the red flags until now. Yet again, I have allowed myself to believe that I don't matter, that my feelings are invalid, and I'm not worth prioritizing.
Taking a deep breath and rubbing my hands over my soaked hair to push it from my face, I finally leave the bathroom and pad across the carpet to my rolling suitcase. I didn't have the energy yesterday to unpack when I got here. I was so mentally drained that I just crawled onto the couch and cried for the whole fucking day, so now, as I open my case, I realize that in my hurry to pack I had lifted some of Drew's things. Sitting at the top, one of his old college sweatshirt, it was his favorite, and I knew it would smell like him.
Lifting the old, worn material to my face, I inhale deeply, allowing the scent to surround me and memories of Drew's body over mine. The way we used to be, the happiness we once had invaded my mind. How he would hold me, his touch on my skin. I don't even remember grabbing this. It's unsurprising that I wore this thing more than he did these days, although his scent never faded from the fabric.
A soft knocking at the door jolts me from my thoughts, forcing me to put down the hoodie and hold the towel to my hips as I open the door for Nyx.
"Hey sweetie, feel any better?" she asks as she comes inside, somewhat nervous. "You can stay here as long as you like, and Gavin said to take a few days off. We will all cover your appointments." As she keeps her hands by her side, I notice that they fidget like she wants to reach out and hug me.
"Look, Drew came by just now, and I told him you were in the shower and… I suggested he should give you some time. He, uhh, asked me to get you to call him… he looked wrecked, Ry," she whispers the last part in a sigh before giving in and lifting her hand to my shoulder and squeezing lightly like she's afraid I'll collapse on the spot. Hell, I might, 'he looked wrecked, Ry'… he looked wrecked.
Her words swirl around my head and decide to lodge themselves right into my heart… he looked wrecked.
Did I finally get through to him? Does he care? Does he love me? No, he can't, because if he did, he would've come home more, he would've been at my show… he would know how fucking lonely I've been.
