I wasn’t mad about Ryder leaving. I’d always known I couldn’t keep him. I’dalwaysknown.
Otter Bay wasn’t enough, a quiet life wasn’t enough.Iwasn’t enough. Plain and simple.
All of a sudden I was sniffing back tears and wiping roughly at my eyes and I didn’t know where any of it was coming from. I was happy for Ryder. Even if I missed him.
Dad’s chair scraped the kitchen tiles as he got up, and then a moment later both of his hands were on my shoulders, and whatever dam was stopping me from breaking down burst. I pushed my plate out of the way at the last second and fell forward onto the table, sobbing so hard my ribs hurt.
Sobbing, and sobbing, and sobbing, like I could only remember crying once before. The last time I had to let Ryder go.
It wasn’tfair. It wasn’t fair that I knew what the thing I wanted most in the world was and I couldn’t have it. Ryder wasn’tforme. I’d done my part in his life.
Dad let out a long breath behind me, rubbing and squeezing my shoulders, quiet and steady while I let it all out.
When I ran out of tears I felt like it’d been hours. I couldn’t remember ever being so exhausted.
Without a word, Dad poured me a glass of water and set it by my elbow.
“Think you’re gonna need a Tylenol?” he asked.
I shook my head, forcing myself to sit up again. “Just the water. Thanks,” I croaked.
When I finished the whole glass of water without a pause, Dad went to get me another one, still without saying a word. Giving me space, I guessed. To process, or… grieve, or whatever.
To think. Which I’d been avoiding since the minute Ryder’s back turned this morning.
Now that Iwasthinking about it, it fuckinghurt. Hurt like a gaping wound to the chest.
“I’m thinking stovetop popcorn and an action movie with a lot of car chases and explosions,” Dad said, squeezing my shoulder one last time. “And I promise I won’t say anything about Ryder after this one last thing.”
That was a relief. I’d surprised myself by raising my voice—scared myself, even—and I didn’t want to risk snapping at Dad. The fact that I was hurting didn’t give me permission to hurt anyone else, even if they understood what was going on.
“One last thing?” I asked, craning my neck to look at him.
“You asked me why he keeps leaving,” Dad said. “So I’ve got a question for you: did you ever think to ask him to stay?”
“He doesn’t want to stay,” I said. “He… he always wanted to leave here. You know that.”
“I know people have things they need to do. I know you had to go off to college to be an English major who turned into an Art History major who ultimately dropped out because it wasn’t for him, and you were all those things at one point but now you’re a carpenter, and a damned good one.”
“Yeah,” I said. “And Ryder needed something I couldn’t give him.”
That was the problem. That’d always been the problem. My best wasn’t enough.
When I was with Ryder I felt like he’d been made just for me, and I’d been made just for him. We made sense. I’d thought we’d spend our whole lives together even when I hadn’t worked out yet what that really meant.
“Maybe that was true back when you were kids,” Dad said. “But don’t you think he’s got it now? Don’t you think maybe he came back here looking for something else?”
Did I think that?
“Ward, I love you, and you’ve always been so sweet. You’ve got the biggest heart I’ve ever seen, and I’m not just saying that because you’re my son. I amsoproud of you. But the thing is that you never,everask for anything for yourself. What’s the worst that can happen if you ask Ryder to stay? If he really doesn’t want to, he’ll just say no. And you don’t have to spend the whole rest of your life wondering what might have been.”
I took a breath to argue, but I knew Dad was right. Iknewit, even if I didn’t like hearing it, because it meant that Ihadto ask, and then…
“What if he says no?” I asked.
“What if he says yes?” Dad countered.
My phone picked that moment to go off, lighting up in the middle of the table in big enough letters that I had no trouble seeing them.
