RYAN FLIPPED THE TV CHANNEL, FINDING A NOTRE Dame football game that was in the last two minutes. He should get out of his suit before he messed it up even more, but he couldn’t find the motivation.
He pulled at his tie, lifted it over his head, and unbuttoned the top two buttons. He tried to think happy thoughts. His sister’s happiness, his family’s health, Notre Dame’s big lead. Instead, the familiar melancholy swept over him like fog over the river.
Why can’t I move on, God? It’s been three years. Three and a half if he wanted to get technical. Why can’t I just accept she doesn’t want me?
His gut twisted at the thought. Memories played out, unbidden. Abby riding shotgun, her hair blowing in the breeze. Abby looking up at him as he tickled her, her eyes sparkling. Abby wrapped around him on the four-wheeler, her melodious laughter in his ear.
Is that all he had now? Memories? Would they be enough to keep him company during the long, lonely nights? He knew the answer to that one.
He flipped off the TV—he wasn’t watching the game anyway. Darkness surrounded him. Total silence devoured the room. Not even the clock ticked. It had been three eighteen for weeks now.
He’d gone through the motions, jogging in the morning, school, football practice, dinner, grading, then bed. The bed part he put off as long as possible, knowing he’d toss and turn until his brain was too tired to function—it was why he sat up now, staring at the wall. Then he’d get up and do it all again the next day.
His grip on the pillow tightened. Why did she have to be so stubborn? Why couldn’t she just give them another chance? He knew all the reasons, he wasn’t stupid. But the anger was there anyway, simmering just below the pitiful desperation.
He’d done everything he could short of dragging her here and holding her hostage. Didn’t she see how much he loved her? Why couldn’t she just take a leap of faith and trust him to catch her? Why did he have to give his heart to someone who couldn’t love him back?
A knock sounded at the door. He closed his eyes, his head falling back against the cushion. Had to be his family. He’d forgotten something at the reception. Or his mom hadn’t bought the fake smile he’d worn all evening and was coming to confront him about it.
Another knock sounded. He grabbed the pillow and put it over his face. If he ignored it, they’d think he was asleep. Maybe he would go to sleep. Maybe he’d just lie down right here.
The knock was louder this time. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? Or be a normal person and shoot him a text? He grabbed the pillow, smacking it down on the couch, and pulled himself off the sofa. He stalked toward the door, the forced smile long gone, his patience stretched to its limits.
He reached for the handle, giving it a hard yank.
Abby jumped when the door flew open. Ryan’s jaw was rigid, his eyes squinty. The glower wasn’t as sexy when it was aimed at her. She shifted under his direct gaze.
His lips went lax and his eyes widened. He blinked twice, as if he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
“Abby,” he said, her name releasing on a long exhale.
“Hi.” Her voice was breathy. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. “I—I hope I didn’t wake you,” she said, then felt supremely stupid because he was wearing a suit.
PJ’s wedding, she remembered. He looked impossibly handsome, his face clean-shaven, his hair mussed. She wondered who he’d gone with and felt the sting of jealousy.
“What are you . . .”
She couldn’t do this out on the porch, where he could just close the door in her face. She probably deserved it.
“Can I come in?”
After a moment’s hesitation he opened the door wider and moved aside. The woodsy scent of him enveloped her as she passed. She breathed deeply. The room was dark, only the porch light filtering through the windows. The door snapped shut behind her, and a lamp came on as he flipped a switch. Her eyes swept the room. It felt homey, despite the lack of furnishings, with its warm wood floors, cozy rugs, and fireplace. Just as she’d imagined.
“The house . . .”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. And she could’ve sworn that was a blush rising from the collar of his shirt.
He rubbed his jaw. “It came up on the market. Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’ve got sweet tea. Be right back.”
She watched him go, his deliberate strides eating up the space quickly. He couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. Not good. He disappeared into what she presumed was the kitchen.
Not good at all. Help me, God. I don’t want to blow this.
She drew a deep breath and blew it out, trying to be thankful for a moment to collect herself. What was she going to say? She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. His face was a stone wall.
Was he angry she’d ignored him all these weeks?
Of course he’s angry. My gosh, you made him think you were giving your relationship another chance, then you fell off the face of the planet.
She twisted Nana’s ring on her finger, then began pacing the room, too unsettled to even think of sitting.
Her legs quaked under her, and her hands trembled. She whispered another prayer that consisted mostly of help, help, help.
When she reached the grandfather clock she noted the still pendulum and stopped. She opened the cabinet, the old habit returning, glad for something to do with her hands. She wound the clock until the weights came to the top, swung the pendulum, and shut the door, somehow comforted by the familiar ticking.
There were noises coming from the kitchen. Ice clinking in a glass, the fridge door opening and shutting. He’d be back soon, and she still felt off balance. Unsure. Vulnerable.
The door swung open, and he walked toward her, his face as impassive as before. Her eyes swept his form. He’d always looked so good in a suit, and somehow, the undone buttons only added to the effect.
She took the offered tea and sipped, suddenly aware of how dry her throat was.
“Where’s Boo?” He tucked his hands in his pockets.
She blinked, realizing she hadn’t even thought of her dog. “In the car.”
“You can bring her in.”
“It’s okay. She’s sleeping.” Plus things might go badly. They might go very badly, and then Boo would tinkle on his nice wood floor.
She set the tea on an end table, then wished for it back because she had nothing to do with her hands. She tried to stuff them into her pockets, then remembered she was wearing yoga pants. Her hands flittered about with no place to land. Finally she crossed her arms.
Ryan gestured toward the sofa.
She was too nervous to sit, but standing was awkward.
He still had the same living room suite, she thought, as she sat. A bulky set, upholstered in soft brown fabric, that his parents had gotten them as a wedding gift. It had dwarfed their little living room on Orchard, but it looked just right here. She took in the room, the heavy mantle, the thick maple trim, the rugs, offering a splash of color here and there.
“I love the house.” Like he doesn’t know that, Abby. Heat crept into her cheeks. “The inside, I mean. It’s homey.”
“It’s just a house.”
She didn’t know what he meant by that and didn’t know what to say. Her breaths had turned shallow, and she worked hard to regulate them.
He sat in the recliner across from her, perched on the edge as if he might leave at any moment.
He planted his elbows on his knees. “Why are you here, Abby?”
Their eyes aligned and her heart pounded. She should’ve given this more thought. She was good at the written word; the spoken one not so much.
“I—a lot’s happened since we spoke last.”
“I heard about your promotion. Congratulations.” The well-wish came out flat.
You can’t blame him, Abby. “Thanks. I’m—my stuff’s all packed. My car’s loaded down, actually.”
He studied her until she squirmed. “Geography’s not my best subject, but I believe St. Paul’s in the opposite direction.”
She gave a hollow laugh. “It is.” This wasn’t going the way she’d hoped. He was still across the room and looking at her with those unreadable eyes.
He clasped his hands between his knees, waiting. He might as well be tapping his foot.
“I was on my way there. I got as far as, well, not even out of Indiana, and I stopped. There was traffic and Boo—” She remembered the picture. She fished in her purse and pulled it out, glancing at it. “I found this.”
She handed it to him, and their fingers brushed. She pulled away reluctantly, watching as his eyes locked onto the photo. His jaw clenched. His lips pressed together.
He set the picture on the end table. “You didn’t drive all the way here to give me that.”
Abby swallowed hard, twisting her ring. “No. I—I came to tell you I was—I was wrong.”
She thought she saw something flare in his eyes. But then it was gone. Wishful thinking. Not her usual MO.
He arched a brow, waiting.
A knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach, and she pulled her purse against it. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your phone calls. Or your texts.”
“I came after you.”
Unlike last time, when you just let me go without a fight.
She barely stopped the words. She bit her lip to make sure they didn’t come out, then she closed her eyes and breathed. It was so hard. Everything in her wanted to poke at him, make him angry.
Slow down, Abby. Think. Don’t provoke.
She opened her eyes, focusing on Ryan’s inscrutable face. “I—I’m sorry. I guess I wasn’t ready—I didn’t realize—” She shook her head, wishing her thoughts would unscramble and make sense. There was so much to say. Where did she even begin?
Her heart was bashing against her ribs, and her chest was so tight she could hardly breathe. Her teeth began knocking together like she was sitting inside an igloo in the Arctic instead of a warm Indiana house in the middle of September. She locked her teeth tight. But panic crawled up her throat, clawing at her.
She had to get up. Move. Away from the awful blank stare in his eyes.
She popped up, moving toward the open room.
Ryan sprang to his feet and blocked her path. Their eyes met and mingled. She recognized fear in those stormy depths.
“Don’t go,” he said.
Empathy lapped at her, calming her own storm. He was scared too. She wasn’t in this alone. Somewhere under that impenetrable mask was a man who used to love her.
“I won’t,” she said.
Only the ticking of the clock filled the silence. He must’ve heard it too, because his eyes swung toward the clock, then back to her.
He studied her a minute, his face softening. “Talk to me, Abby.”
She locked onto his eyes, soaking up the warmth like the first rays of summer. If he’d just keep looking at her like that, she’d be able to say anything.
“It was my fault.” Her words sounded choked. “Our marriage, the way it ended, all our problems—my fault.”
“What are you talking about?”
She took a steadying breath and told him what she’d learned. It tumbled out of her like boulders down a cliff, her face heating with shame. About how the abuse had affected her. About how she’d subconsciously provoked him because, deep down, she thought she deserved to be abused—was waiting for him to hit her.
“But you never did,” she said in wonder. “Not even once. Not even after the things I said, the things I did.”
Ryan moved closer. Close enough that his familiar scent washed over her. His eyes turned down at the corners, his forehead furrowed.
“Of course I didn’t. You don’t deserve that, Abby. No one does.”
“I know. Or rather, I’m beginning to know.” Her gaze flickered off him. “I’ve been talking to my friend—she’s a psychologist.”
“Good for you.”
“It’s really hard. But it’s been good too. I see so many things that I didn’t see before.”
His eyes scrolled over her face, coming to rest on hers. “What, Abby? What do you see?”
She looked deep into his eyes. He was closer now. His hands holding hers, his thumbs fanning back and forth, making her insides hum.
“I see you loving me like I was never loved before. I see you trying to reason with me. I see you wanting to hold me.” Her voice was thick with tears. She blinked against the sting in her eyes and felt a tear trickle down her face. “And I see myself pushing you away. I see myself shrugging from your touch. I see myself walking out the door and never looking back.” She bit her lip to stop its trembling.
He brushed away the tears. “Don’t cry, Red.”
“I came to say I’m sorry.” Her voice broke. “I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused. I’m sorry you got stuck holding my baggage. I’m sorry it took me so long to see the truth.”
He raised her hands and kissed the tender flesh of her palms. “I’m not letting you take all the blame. I’m sorry too. I worked too much. I took you for granted. I let you go when I should’ve fought for you. I should’ve been your hero. I’ll always regret that.”
She reached deep inside, down past the pain, where a thread of courage cautiously unfurled. She grabbed hold of it like a lifeline.
“Would you—” She swallowed hard. Took a deep breath. “Is it too late for a second chance? To try again? I know it’s a lot to ask. I’m still complicated, more so than I even knew, and I’ve just begun to scratch the surface. There might be more stuff, there probably is. I don’t know how that’s going to affect me and how it might change me, and I don’t blame you if—”
His hands cupped her face gently, pressing his lips to hers, cutting off her words. All thought left her head as she responded to him.
He drew her closer, deepening the kiss. A low hum started inside, sending a tingly heat throughout her body. Her arms came around him, her fingers diving into the softness of his hair.
It was pure joy to be back in his arms, pressed against the solid wall of his chest, enveloped in his protective embrace. Did he really want her? The thrill of that thought would never grow old. If he really did give her another chance, she wouldn’t blow it this time. She swore she wouldn’t. She’d fight through all the pain, all the baggage, and make it work. It was worth it. He was worth it.
Moments later he pulled back, breaking the kiss. Their eyes locked together, and he studied her with an intensity that unraveled her from the inside out.
His fingers tangled in the hair at her nape, squeezing gently. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick. “I never stopped.”
She let the words seep down into all the tight spaces of her heart. Let herself believe them. Accept them. “I love you too, Ryan. So much.”
“I want you back in my life. I want to put that ring back on your finger for real. I want you to be mine again, forever this time. I want to fill this big empty house with our love and, someday soon, with our children.”
“I want that too.”
His lips claimed hers again, less gently this time. There was strength and determination and possession in the kiss. She absorbed all of it, every second.
He kissed her until her breaths were ragged, and her heart felt too big for her chest. Then he held her in his arms. Her head rested against his heart. It was beating as fast as hers.
Her eyes fell on the front door, and she remembered her car at the curb, filled with all her belongings. She thought of the moving truck, scheduled to load up and ship out tomorrow.
“What about my job?”
“We’ll figure it out.” His voice rumbled in her ear. “I’m not letting you go again, Abby. Don’t even try.”
“I’m not going anywhere, not without you.”
She thought of the life she’d planned in St. Paul. The job. The apartment. Months ago she’d been so excited at the thought. Now it all felt so flat. She knew Ryan would go if she asked. But she couldn’t see him there. Couldn’t see them there. This was where they belonged. Here . . . in their dream house, in Chapel Springs, surrounded by the love of his family.
She leaned away, needing to see him. “I don’t think the new job is for me after all. St. Paul just doesn’t feel right anymore.”
Twin commas formed between his brows. “Take some time. Think it over. You worked hard for it.”
Abby shook her head, certainty filling her with confidence. “I don’t need to think about it. This is the right thing for me, for us.”
His thumbs brushed her cheeks, erasing the last remnants of her tears. He planted a soft kiss on her lips, and she felt it all the way to her toes.
“What are you going to tell your boss?” he asked when he drew away.
She smiled, looking into his eyes and seeing forever there. “I’ll tell him I’m going home.”
The corners of his lips turned up, softening his whole face.
She could look at that face for the rest of her life. In fact, that’s exactly what she intended to do.
“I’ve missed you more than you know,” he said. “Welcome home, Red.”