by Aly Martinez
Nora’s voice was careful like she was talking a man off a ledge. “Ramsey, it’s okay. Let’s sit back down.”
Drawing in a deep breath that I hoped like hell didn’t sound as shaky as it felt, I bent over and picked up my chair while avoiding Thea’s gaze. I didn’t know if I’d scared her or if pity was going to show in her eyes. I told myself I didn’t care. It was fucking Thea.
But that was exactly the problem.
It was Thea.
“Oh look, it’s our waitress,” Nora announced loud and clear as we all took our seats.
I wasn’t too blind to see that it had been spoken as a warning that someone was approaching. I offered her a tight smile in gratitude.
The short, blonde woman who’d delivered a round of waters when we first sat down approached the table wearing a friendly smile. “Are y’all ready to order?”
“Yes,” Thea and Nora answered in awkward and unscripted unison.
She pulled out a notebook and a pen and looked to Nora. “Okay, what can I get you?”
“You go first,” Nora prompted me. “Get whatever you want.”
I swallowed hard as anxiety scorched through my veins. I stared at the menu, seeing words and knowing I was supposed to say something, but I just didn’t know what. I was a teenager the last time I’d gotten to pick my own food. I could order snacks at the commissary when I’d had money in my account. This was different. Some things were meals; some things were sides. They even had an entire list of sauces, though I had no fucking idea what the hell those were supposed to go on.
Pressure built in my chest as I scanned the page. “I’ll…um…have a steak.”
“All right, do you want the filet, the center cut, the rib eye, strip, or porterhouse?”
My mouth dried. “Just a steak.”
She half laughed. “Okay, let’s try it this way. Are you going to want that steak six, eight, twelve, or sixteen ounces?”
I kept staring at the menu like something was going to jump out at me. When, really and truly, I wished she’d shut the hell up and bring me a tray of food. Whatever was on the menu that day. Just bring it out.
“A steak,” I repeated roughly when I gave up on trying to figure out how many ounces would fit in the large section of the yellow trays at home—no. Not home. Prison was not home.
“Okay…” she drawled. “How would you like that cooked?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I banged my fist on the table, which made everyone jump. “I just want a fucking steak. You pick. Whatever you want. Just stop asking me questions.”
“Ramsey, relax,” Nora whispered, covering my hand with hers.
The touch set me on edge. We hadn’t been allowed to touch or hold hands. Not even at visitation. A hug when she arrived and a hug when she left. That was all we had been permitted.
I snatched my hand away. “Stop touching me. Everybody, just fucking stop.” I put my elbows on the table and dropped my head into my hands.
Yeah, this was definitely too much.
“Okay,” Thea mumbled. “He’ll have a twelve-ounce rib eye, medium-rare, house salad with ranch, and a loaded baked—”
She was doing me a favor. Clearly, I was overwhelmed and about thirty seconds from losing my shit, and Thea had come to my rescue. But I didn’t want Thea to rescue me from anything. I didn’t want her to be there at all.
My head snapped up. “Don’t fucking order for me.”
She jerked to the side as if she were trying to dodge my words. When she opened her mouth to speak, I knew with an absolute certainty it was going to be an apology. I could see it in those damn green eyes that had haunted me for too many years. I wasn’t going to be able to handle another apology from her. The first one had been bad enough. I’d have rather served the last three years than experience that again.
Pushing off the table, I stood up. “I gotta get out of here.”
“Ramsey, wait,” Nora called, but there was no stopping me.
I was done.
And as sad as it might have been, part of me actually longed to go back to that cell. It was a horrible and soul-sucking place, but I knew how to navigate life on the inside.
Freedom was foreign territory.
There were few times in my life that I’d been more devastated than when I was watching Ramsey unravel while attempting the simple task of ordering lunch. I shouldn’t have stepped in and tried to help. I was already crossing a scorching desert barefoot when it came to him, but I couldn’t just sit there while he’d been floundering.
After he’d stormed out, Nora followed him, while I apologized to the waitress and handed her a twenty-dollar bill for her time. I couldn’t convince myself to go after him. Not with my emotions on the verge of overflowing. So I stood at the restaurant door, watching through the glass as Nora opened her car and Ramsey slid into the back seat. She didn’t climb into the driver’s seat though. Instead, she got her phone out of her bag, casually leaned against the hood, and gave Ramsey a few moments of solitude.
My heart broke all over again.
Nora was handling this so much better than I was. I could barely breathe. My emotional grid was all over the place—hate, love, regret, pain, happiness. I’d been waiting for that day for so long. Dreaming about it, really. And while I’d managed to keep my expectations low, I’d hoped for a lot.
I’d hoped seeing me would make him remember that we were made for each other.
I’d hoped being out of that hell would make him smile again.
I’d hoped he could finally start his life the way it was supposed to be.
Yes. I loved Ramsey. I would always love Ramsey. But if that life didn’t include me, I could be content until the end of my days as long as he was happy. That’s all I’d ever wanted for him.
Though, on what should have been the best day of his life, he was crumbling in the back seat of a car, his head leaned back on the headrest, his absent stare aimed at the roof.
When Nora saw me standing at the door, she curled two fingers for me to come out. I ran a hand over the top of my hair to smooth it down. It wasn’t messy. I’d brushed it a dozen times while I’d been hiding in the bathroom, willing my heart to slow after nothing more than sitting next to him at a table. It was something so common that I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it.
But I had.
Oh God, how I’d missed it.
He was pissed off and overwhelmed, but I’d missed feeling him next to me.
A thick blanket of unease shrouded the car on our way home. Nora put on the radio and she and Ramsey made small talk about how shitty music was these days. I offered no opinion. He was more comfortable that way—when he could forget I was there.
We lived almost two hours away from the prison, so I had plenty of time to think on that drive. Everything I’d ever wanted was riding in that car with me, but the emptiness within me was more prominent than ever.
What if that was my natural state of being now? What if this was my life, sitting in the front seat while the man I’d been in love with since I was old enough to understand the concept sat behind me completely out of my reach?
By the time we pulled into our driveway, I was in full-on Debbie Dooms Day mode.
He hated me.
He resented me.
My Ramsey was gone forever.
Insert a million other the-sky-is-falling references here.
“Nice place,” he mumbled to Nora when she opened the front door.
I trailed behind, not wanting to get too close, all the while wishing I could.
“I know. I picked it out.” She smiled. “Though Thea paid for it. So I guess she gets some of the credit.”
His back stiffened at the mention of my name, but he made no comment.
Nora hung her keys on the hook beside the door and set her purse on the table. Drawing in a deep breath, she walked into our den and swung her arms out to her sides. “Welcome home, big brother.”
An unlikely smile crept up my face as I imagined s
eeing our house for the first time through his eyes. Photos from throughout the years, including several of Ramsey, hung in a massive collage above our tan microfiber sectional. With white distressed end tables and a rustic wood coffee table, thrift store chic was our style of choice. It also happened to be our style of necessity. Penny by penny, I’d saved up the money for a hefty down payment on that three-bedroom, eighteen-hundred-square-foot ranch home. Nora had pitched in and gotten a credit card at a furniture store so we could buy couches. After a solid hour of begging us not to go, my dad told me we could take the bedroom furniture and then offered to rent the U-Haul for us.
He’d disappeared to his room for the rest of the night after that. I’d felt horrible leaving him all alone like that, but if Nora and I wanted a life, we needed to get out of Clovert. It was impossible to heal in the place that had broken you. The new house was only twenty minutes away and we both still commuted back for work, but having our own little safe haven did wonders for our emotional wellbeing.
I was proud of that house. Proud of us for what we’d made of our lives. And now I was proud to give a little piece of it to Ramsey too.
My voice shook as I chanced asking, “You…um…want to see your room?”
He didn’t answer, but when Nora started walking toward the hall, he followed without argument.
“You’re gonna love it,” she said as she opened the last door on the right. “Thea’s decoratively challenged, so I picked out everything.”
She walked in first, and it took several beats before Ramsey entered the bedroom. I silently lamented the fact that I was behind them and unable to see his reaction. We’d spent almost every day for the last week getting that room ready.
A midnight-blue comforter covered the king-size platform bed. Pillows—at least eight of them—were stacked at the top, waiting for someone to dive into the middle. There was a faux mahogany dresser on the opposite wall and two cherry nightstands on either side of the bed. Nothing matched. We’d changed the knobs to make it look like that was the purpose. We—well, Nora—had gone for minimalistic with the rest with hopes that Ramsey would want to put his own touches on his new space. But there was one single framed photo of the three of us that hung on the wall. The picture was my contribution to his room.
On and off, depending on what stage of grief I was experiencing at the time, that picture had hung in my room for over twelve years. In it, Nora and I were laughing. I have no memory of what was so funny, but Ramsey was in the middle of us, his shaggy, brown hair hanging over his forehead, his eyes bright, and his smile so wide that it almost looked photoshopped.
That was how I’d chosen to remember him—happy and carefree.
And now I hoped it would help him remember too.
“Is this the master?” he asked, roaming around the room, before dumping his garbage bag of belongings in the corner.
“Yep,” Nora answered. “We drew straws to see who was going to be forced to share the hall bathroom with you, but Thea forgot to cut a short one, so we both won.” She walked over and flipped on the light to the adjoining bathroom. “So now you get your own.”
That wasn’t exactly how it had happened. After he’d spent so much of his life in a six-by-eight cell, giving Ramsey the master was the obvious choice. Nora and I hadn’t even discussed it before calling my dad to help us lug all my crap across the hall. My bed wouldn’t fit in the small room we’d been using as a home office, so I left the king for Ramsey and downgraded to a double.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he rumbled. “I’m not gonna be here long anyway.”
Surprise—and okay, fine, panic—hit me like a ton of bricks. “What? Where are you going?”
Nora shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Nowhere. He’s not going anywhere.”
“We’ll see about that,” he muttered, running his hand over the top of the bed, pressing into the soft pillowtop.
I pointedly flared my eyes at Nora in question, but she waved me off.
“We bought you some welcome home presents.” She opened the drawer on his end table and pulled out a new silver iPhone. “You know my number, but I programmed Thea’s into the contacts in case I’m not around and you need something. Your phone number is on the Post-it note in the box. Memorize it and give it to your parole officer tomorrow, okay?”
He flipped the phone in his hand. “You gonna teach me how to use this thing first?”
“Yep. You’ll be ignoring me to check your Instagram in no time.” She reached back into the drawer and retrieved my gift, which suddenly seemed paltry compared to hers. When I’d been shopping though, I’d been damn near giddy picking them out for him. “This one’s from Thea.”
As if it were an involuntary reaction, his eyes flicked to me for the first time since the restaurant.
One glance and my whole body came alive. It only lasted a heartbeat, but the hum in my veins remained long after he’d looked away.
It only hurt a little when he tried to hand it back to Nora.
She dodged the bag. “Open it, silly.”
With a ticking jaw, he glared at her for a long second, but in true Nora fashion, she stared back at him, smiling like she’d escaped from a 1950’s mental institution.
Nerves fluttered in my stomach as he stabbed his hand inside the bag.
And then he froze.
And then I froze.
And then I wished like hell I’d never given it to him at all.
He pulled out a pack of red-and-green gum. Watermelon. The wrapper was different now, but it had been his favorite when we were younger. And, most recently, it had been what he tasted like in my mind each and every time I touched myself. His words from all those years earlier flittered through my brain.
“Sparrow, I think every time I’ve kissed you I’ve had gum in my mouth.”
His dark gaze came back to mine, and this time, it lingered. Tangible, as though it were the tip of a finger, his gaze swept from my mouth to my breasts before taking the slow path back to my eyes.
My breath hitched and a chill traveled down my spine even as I feared I might burst into flames.
Gum had been the likely choice when it came to picking out a present for him. Ramsey had never gone anywhere without at least one pack in his pocket. It was as much a part of him as the way he’d walked in the grass so I could have the sidewalk or the way he’d inhaled as if he could consume me each time he’d kissed me. I’d flown into a fit of hysteria the day Nora had told me he wasn’t allowed to have gum in prison, and that was after he’d already “scraped me off.”
A pack of gum could have been an innocent gesture from an old friend.
However, as my lungs burned while he plundered my emotions with nothing more than a stormy stare, we both knew there was nothing innocent about it.
He had been chewing gum the first time he kissed a path over my breasts.
The first time he timidly inched his fingers into my panties.
And the first time he made love to me under the stars before time stopped.
Oh, yes. I had fond, fond memories of Ramsey and his gum.
Which was probably why it felt like a slap to the face when he turned and dropped the entire bag in the trash can beside the bed.
“Jesus Christ,” Nora mumbled.
The remnants of my pride told me to run as far as I could and never look back.
But it was my heart covered in ugly scars and lesions that kept my feet rooted and my gaze locked on his. Rejection burned thick in my throat, but I refused to give him that victory.
“You’re welcome,” I snapped.
An arrogant smile that had never suited someone less curled his lips. “I don’t remember saying thank you.”
I slanted my head and ignored the festering desire to cry. “There seems to be a lot you don’t remember, Ramsey. Starting with how to be a decent human being. But don’t worry. We’ll get you there. And yes. I mean we. As in me and you. Because unlike you, when I make someone a promise, I actual
ly keep it.”
And with that, I walked out of his room, straight to the hall bathroom, and proceeded to throw up the contents of my empty stomach. And for the way it felt, it contained a fair amount of my empty soul too.
Ramsey never came out of his room again that night.
I cooked steaks. Nora carried one to his room. He invited her in. They had dinner together. And I stood in the hall, listening to the magic that was their laughter, while tears of longing dripped off my smile.
Their voices had become muted, but his light was still on when I went to bed. I’d been so excited for his release that I hadn’t been sleeping well for over a week, but my good pal Anxiety was hell-bent on making sure we didn’t break the streak.
The numbers on the clock read one thirty-six when I heard my bedroom door crack open. My heart lurched with fantasies that he’d come to talk to me. Or not talk to me. I didn’t care which as long he was there to wrap me in his strong arms and erase twelve years of hell.
It was Nora who pulled back the covers and climbed into bed beside me.
“How ya holding up?” she whispered.
“Well, the good news is I’m officially dehydrated from crying. Any more and I think I’ll wake up a raisin.” A lump caught in my throat. “The bad news is I’m definitely going to wake up as a raisin.”
“Hey,” she cooed. “Stop. You knew this was going to be hard.”
“I know. I know. It’s just… Why is everything so fucking hard? When are we going to catch a break? When is he going to catch a break?”
“He’s fine, Thea.”
“I get it. He doesn’t love me. But why does he have to be so angry? He has to know that I’ve spent the last decade blaming myself for telling the cops about Josh.”
She rested her palm on the side of my neck, her long, thin fingers curling around as she gave me a gentle shake. “He doesn’t blame you. You didn’t do anything wrong. He was pissed off that you were there today and looking for a way to lash out. We had a long talk tonight and I made sure he knew exactly how messed up it was for him to bring that shit up.”