Finding Valor

by Ripley Proserpina

  “I do. I know that,” he answered earnestly.

  She watched him, looking for some sign maybe he didn't and he thought that, for her, five guys weren't enough.

  “I am jealous,” he added. “I don't like it when I can't be with you. Or when one of the other guys gets you longer than me. And then this guy comes along, the one from Ryan's past, and he wants your time, too? I'm sorry, baby. It was just too much.”

  “I get it.” She did. She really did. It was hard to split her time equally, but right now it felt like Ryan needed her more.

  And she wanted to be able to do that for all of them. She didn't want to look at her watch and say, Well, I know you want to keep talking, but it's half-past three, and it’s Matisse’s time.

  Apollo had taken a risk when he’d told her about his jealousy. It was only fair she share her worries as well. “I've never been in a relationship before. With anyone. I'm going to make mistakes. But you can't gang up on me. I felt cornered, and it sucked.”

  “I don't know what to do about it, though.” He put his hand on top of hers. “We all agreed with each other and disagreed with you.”

  “Yeah, well…” She couldn't formulate a rejoinder.

  “I don't want to make up rules for this,” he said thoughtfully, playing with her fingers. “I want to see how it evolves.” He lifted his head to stare at her with dark, serious eyes, and she could see that he believed everything he said. “Trust me.”

  “Don't doubt me,” she countered.

  Sighing, he dropped his forehead to hers before kissing her gently. “Are you coming back down?”

  “Yes. Let me swallow my embarrassment first.”

  “Don't be. Please.”

  She took his hand and followed him to the door, hesitating a bit when he got there. “They still angry?” Changing her mind, she held up a hand before he could answer. “No. Don't answer. I'll ask them. You don't have to be the go-between.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted, his dimple making a quick appearance before it disappeared again. “Come on.” He led her down the stairs. The guys were still in the kitchen, sitting around the beautiful new table.

  Seok stood quickly when she walked in, stalking to her and wrapping his arms around her. “I'm sorry, Nora. We weren’t being fair.”

  “I'm sorry,” she answered. “I shouldn't have run away. I promised I wouldn't do that again.”

  There was a rough scraping against the floor, and then Cai tugged her from Seok. “We put you in a bad spot. If all of you suddenly faced off against me, I might retreat, too.”

  Her hands dropped from around Cai’s neck, and she stepped back, looking for Ryan. Sitting at the new table, his green eyes wary, he watched her approach him, never looking away. When he was within an arm's reach, Nora cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. “I'm sorry, Ryan.”

  His hands locked on her wrists, and he pulled her down into his lap, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “I am, too.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “How could you?” His voice was exhausted. “I didn’t tell you. And I should have.”

  Pushing away, she watched him carefully. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Seok draw out a chair from under the table and gesture to it, but she waited to see what Ryan would do, if he needed her. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts or bracing himself. Maybe both. “It’s easier to talk about it without you looking at me,” he finally said, and she slid into the chair Seok offered.

  Her stomach clenched, and acid burned the back of her throat. Had she judged him so badly he couldn’t stand to meet her eyes?

  “It’s hard to look in your eyes while I explain what a complete asshole I used to be,” he clarified.

  Her relief was immediate, but so was her denial. “Impossible.”

  “Trust me,” Cai scoffed. “It’s possible.”

  Ready to come to Ryan’s defense, she opened her mouth to argue, but he leaned over and placed a finger over her lips. “While I appreciate your loyalty, believe me; Cai’s right. Ask any of the guys. I had douchebaggery down to a science.”

  How could Ryan, her protector, ever have been cruel? What his description suggested was a disregard for other people’s feelings, and if anything, he was always very conscious of his impact on others, waiting patiently for all the facts before forming an opinion. He was not the first to wade into an argument. In fact, there were times where, if she hadn’t been so hyperaware of all of the guys, he could have faded into the background.

  “You were actually not an asshole when I met you,” Apollo offered, lightening the mood in the kitchen.

  “Fair enough.” Ryan’s voice reverberated through the kitchen. “But that was nearly a year after meeting Seok, Cai, and Matisse, who will tell you…”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she rushed him. “You were an asshole. Allegedly. But you’re not now. So…”

  “It doesn’t negate the hurt I caused. The lives changed because of what I did.”

  “You mean Beau.”

  “Yes. But I also caused a million tiny hurts along the way. When I first met Cai, I embarrassed him in front of a room full of university officials. I ruined a night meant to honor Seok.”

  “Stole my thunder,” Seok joked.

  Her heart ached for her guys. The idea of Cai being embarrassed was too much, and she reached for his hand. He leaned around Seok awkwardly, but didn’t resist when she rubbed her cheek against it before releasing him. “I’m fine,” he whispered.

  “And you’re best friends now.” She sought reassurance.

  “Like brothers.” At Cai’s words, Ryan let out a breath.

  “They’ve forgiven you.” She stated the obvious.

  “Of course,” Seok affirmed.

  “I didn’t deserve your forgiveness.” There was the tension again.

  “Oh, come on!” Jumping up from her chair, she straddled Ryan so she could see into his eyes while she read him the riot act. “That’s bullshit. I know the things you do!” Stopping herself, she clarified, “I know some of the things you do. Interning with Professor Bismarck—”

  “Which looked great on my resume.”

  She rolled her eyes and continued. “Arguing with financial aid and getting me on a payment plan, fixing things with Dr. Murray, standing up for me against Detective Vance—in a parking lot full of cops.” The other guys steadily held his gaze as he stared daggers at them. “Those are just the little things!”

  “He’s done much more,” Seok said quietly.

  “Why aren’t you focusing on those things? You made a mistake, Ryan. A big, fucking mistake, but a mistake. I have no doubt you told Beau you were sorry, and knowing you, there are probably a million things you’ve done to make it up to him.”

  “He’ll never accept my apology.”

  “How can he when you haven’t forgiven yourself?” As she spoke, she realized something. “That’s why you don’t argue, why you observe everything. You’re afraid to act.”

  His entire body jolted like she’d electrified him. In one sweep, he scooped her off his lap, slid from beneath her, and pushed away from the table. His shoulders heaved with emotion, and he towered over her, blocking out the kitchen light so his face was shrouded in shadow. “You’d be afraid, too, if you’d sent someone to prison!”

  “But you can’t continue to punish yourself!” she countered. “You don’t deserve this, Ryan. You earned law school, but no one will know unless you tell them.”

  Face set in stubborn lines, he didn’t respond, making her wonder if he’d heard her at all.

  “You have done so much good already, Ryan.” Placing a hand on his arm, she stood and peered up into his face. “Think about what you’ve done for me and imagine what else you can do. This constant guilt? It’s selfish.”

  “Selfish?” he exploded. His eyes widened in disbelief and hurt, as if she’d slapped him. It was as if he forgot how much large
r he was than her, and he crowded her, towering over her, invading her space until they stood chest to chest. But he didn’t frighten her because behind his bluster was panic.

  “Whoa,” Matisse interrupted, obviously not seeing what Nora did, as he put a hand on Ryan’s chest to shove him back.

  “What the fuck, Tisse?” Ryan asked in shock.

  Wobbling, her balance upset by Ryan’s advance, Nora righted herself and muscled her body between the two boys. Quickly, she wrapped her arms around Ryan while giving Matisse a reassuring glance. “Listen, Ryan. Please. If you’re not a lawyer, you won’t be helping other people like me. If you hadn’t been pre-law, you’d never have been in Bismarck’s classes. If you’d never been in his class, then you wouldn’t have been his intern and never come to the hospital, and I’d never have met you and—see where I’m going with this?”

  His arms hung at his sides, and beneath her ear, his heart pounded.

  Hug me, she willed. Hug me back. Relief filled her when his arms lifted, but his hug was perfunctory, and he hastily set her away from him.

  “I need some space,” he whispered.

  Heart lurching, she looked wildly at the other guys. There was a dip in her stomach, a tightening. The space he needed, she realized, was not from the guys, but from her. The palms of her hands ached, but somehow she kept herself from reaching for him. “Of course.” She forced herself to step back and knocked into the table. Someone moved closer, gripping her hand and pulling her close.

  Matisse. She held onto him tightly.

  “I-” Already he was leaving, walking backward, glancing over his shoulder, running his hand through his hair. “I’ll be back later.” Grabbing his jacket off the chair, he bolted through the door, closing it with a soft click of finality.

  “Did he just break up with me?” Her words came out unsteady.

  Matisse tightened his hold. “No, cher. I’m sure he didn’t.” But there was something in his voice decidedly not sure.

  “Ryan needs to think,” Seok offered his agreement. “This is what he does. He retreats and comes back.”

  “He comes back to you.” Her voice shook, and she cleared her throat. “You’re his family.”

  “You’re his family, too now.” There was no doubt in Seok’s voice.

  “Okay.” Releasing a deep breath, she tried to calm her racing mind. “You’re right. He’s my family now. He can retreat but not for long. If he doesn’t come back, I’m going after him. What time is it?”

  Confused, Apollo glanced at the microwave. “Eight.”

  “God, it feels like midnight. I’m exhausted. I’m going to go upstairs if no one objects.”

  “I’ll walk you up.” Matisse held out a pale hand, squeezing her fingers when she laid her palm against his. With a tug, he led her across the kitchen, allowing her to give each of the guys a kiss. Her lips lingered longer than usual as she touched each of them, memorizing their feel on her skin.

  Eighteen

  The Time Ryan was in a Frat

  RYAN WALKED AROUND Brownington. The earlier wind had turned frigid, and each breath hurt, stinging the inside of his nose and freezing his lungs.

  He’d given Nora his scarf, and he suffered having his entire face exposed to the elements. His lips were chapped, and the skin on his face burned. When the wind increased, it made his eyes water. Tears streamed down his face, freezing against his skin. He hadn't even remembered his gloves.

  Serves you right for throwing a shit fit.

  He walked downtown to one of the fancy coffee shops on Congregation Street. Going inside, his nose instantly went from frozen to faucet in the warm air.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.” The girl behind the counter let her gaze travel his body, and he blushed, or he would have if his face wasn't already red from the cold. “You need a warmer coat,” she observed.

  Effectively put in his place, he laughed. “Yeah.”

  After placing his order, Ryan found a bar seat near the door so he could look out at the street. The few people who did walk by were in a hurry. No one lingered outside to window shop or chat with friends. They huddled down in their coats, eyes on the ground.

  He finished one latte and then another, his mind turning over Nora's words. She’d said essentially the same thing Seok did. Only a bit blunter.

  Though he hadn’t appreciated her bluntness, two lattes and a frozen face later, it made him smile. The Nora who challenged him was so different from the Nora who apologized for everything. While the earlier Nora had piqued his interest, this girl had his heart.

  Her face when I left. He’d hurt her. Yet another apology owed.

  In his mind, he created a list of people he’d offended: one column with their names, another with boxes to check off when each apology was given, and a third to identify if it was accepted.

  She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings; he knew as much. She wanted to challenge him, get him out of his head. Each time he made progress, thought he wasn't the worst person who’d ever existed, he managed to slide back into self-recrimination and guilt.

  “Here.” A plate slid in front of him, and he looked up, startled. It was the coffee girl.

  “Thanks,” he said politely.

  “I'd have to throw them out anyway.” She shrugged. “It might be a little stale.”

  “Oh.” He drew his eyebrows together. “Thanks for the stale biscotti.”

  She pulled a chair out and slid onto the stool, biting into her own biscotti. “It's barely stale.”

  Taking a bite, he considered it. No, it wasn't bad. He took the cover off his latte and dipped it in before taking another bite.

  “You don't recognize me, do you?” she asked.

  A college-age girl with a dark brown ponytail, wearing a flannel shirt and jeans? She looked pretty much like every other college girl in the world. “No,” he finally answered. “Sorry.”

  She shrugged. “It's fine. I was in Omega Phi.”

  “I'm not Greek anymore.”

  “I know.” She smiled. “I met you at the Greek consortium where you made the case for turning Lambda into, what was it you called it? A brotherhood of philanthropy and charity?”

  “Yeah.” He scratched his nose, embarrassed and unsure if she was mocking him.

  “They accepted and rewrote the charter.”

  They had.

  “Your idea was pretty cool.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Anyway.” She stood up. “I'm closing in ten. Nice to see you again.”

  Chuckling at her not-so-subtle dismissal, he replied, “Yes. Nice to see you.”

  He put his coat on and left, but he didn’t go home. Instead, he walked down to the waterfront, which was stupid because it was even colder and windier there. Even though he knew he was avoiding a discussion he needed to have, he suffered a little longer before heading up the hill. The wind was at his back, but it still tore through his jeans and wool coat.

  Finally, he saw the warm lights of home and was suddenly anxious to be back. He rushed inside, blowing on his fingers and shivering. Dropping his keys on the table next to the door, he saw a note.

  Let me know when you get in, please. Love, Nora.

  The house was silent except for the groaning and creaking trees straining against the wind. Once upstairs, he crept through the hallway, hesitating outside her door. His hand was hovering above the nob when it opened.

  “You're home.” Her voice was relieved. Tugging his sleeve, she dragged him inside before she closed the door behind them and leaned against it. “You must be freezing.” She cupped her warm hands against his face. When he covered her hands with his frozen ones, she shivered. “You should have taken your scarf.”

  She’d waited up for him. Her bed was unmade, but a book rested face down on the comforter, and her light was still on. Music played softly from her phone. He cocked his head, trying to make out the artist—some alt-rock band, which made him suspec
t she’d tried to stay awake until he got home.

  “You should be asleep.”

  “I didn't want to. Not until you got home and I could make sure you were okay.”

  Again, he let her drag him where she wanted, and she wanted him on the bed. She reached for the hem of his sweater to lift it up and over his head.

  His blood immediately began to heat, but he stopped her fingers. “Nora, wait.”

  She turned her golden-brown eyes up to him, and he saw her fear. “You really did want a break from me,” her voice whispered. “Are you—are we broken up?” Staring at her hands, she suddenly pulled away and clutched her fingers in front of her, cracking her knuckles nervously.

  “What?” The word came out louder than he’d meant, and angrier. “No! Who— ?”

  Curls escaped the ponytail on top of her head as she shook it decisively. “No one. I thought, when you left, and you said you needed space...”

  How badly had he messed up? “But why did you try to take my clothes off?”

  Blushing, she put her hands over her eyes. “When you came up here, I thought Matisse was right. He said you wouldn't break up with me, but then you stopped me and I was sure you must have. But you're not in the mood; I don’t want to push.”

  “Nora.” He enfolded her in his arms, reveling in the way she fit there so perfectly. “I’m sorry.”

  Her hair tickled his nose when she shook her head, and he swiped it away. “I wanted to be close to you,” she whispered.

  He understood. Connecting with her physically opened him up emotionally, tying him to her moods and her fears, and frankly, it scared the crap out of him. He was barely managing his own emotions at this point, but he wanted to give her what she needed. So he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tightly before shifting away and removing his shirt.

  Eyes wide, she watched him, tracing the skin he revealed piece by piece. Holding his arms apart, he waited. Quickly she sat, throwing off her shirt and huddling against him. He leaned against the pillows and flipped off her light. Her book thunked to the floor as she burrowed closer, and then she sighed. It was a sigh coming from her soul, and with her exhalation, she curled around him.