by Noelle Adams
“Then what are you doing here?”
Patrick didn’t answer. Just stared at him evenly.
“She’s not okay?” Ryan asked, Patrick’s expression confirming that something was wrong. “What’s going on? Let me in to see her.”
“She doesn’t want to see you.”
“What?”
“She doesn’t want to see you. She told me not to let you in.” Patrick spoke blandly, as if these outrageous words were really no big deal.
“What hell is going on?’ Ryan demanded, taking a step forward. He was bigger than Patrick. He could force his way in if he had to. His heart was racing now with concern, confusion, indignation. “Let me in.”
“No. I’m telling you that she’s okay, and you’re going to have to trust me on that.”
“Trust you—” Ryan was shaking now. “Damn it, Patrick. Let me in!”
“No.” Despite Ryan’s angry tone, Patrick didn’t even raise his voice. “Believe me, I hate all this drama, but Ginny and Carol are counting on me here.”
“Carol’s there too?”
“Yes, of course she is. You don’t think she would have left Ginny alone, do you? We’re talking about Carol. And I’m telling you for the last time that Carol and I have this handled. So you need to just go home.”
Before Ryan could think of what else to say—or what to do—Patrick had taken two steps back and closed the door in Ryan’s face.
Ryan breathed fast and hard for a minute, so frustrated he thought he would explode from it.
Then he couldn’t stop himself. He bellowed, “Ginny!” at the top of his lungs.
People on the sidewalk turned to look at him.
If this had been a movie, Ginny would have appeared at one of the windows. She would have seen him and come down, and he would have taken her in his arms—all their problems and issues miraculously worked out.
But no one appeared at a window except for a grumpy middle-aged woman who yelled at him to keep it down.
This was wrong. Completely, utterly wrong. An injustice that went against the core tenets of a fair universe. That something was happening with Ginny and he couldn’t help her.
But he couldn’t keep standing on the sidewalk and shouting out for her. Someone would eventually call the cops.
Patrick was right.
Ryan had no choice but to go home.
Eight
The next morning, it was incredibly painful for Ginny to even open her eyes.
The first thing she was aware of was a pounding headache. Then she moved her mouth and realized it was so dry that her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her saliva tasted terrible, and it made her head hurt even more. She shifted positions and almost groaned as every muscle in her body seemed to hurt.
When she managed to pry her eyes open, she saw she was in Emma’s bedroom, and she remembered what had happened the night before.
She’d been stupid. Nothing but stupid. She’d known that two drinks would leave her feeling this way, but she’d drunk them anyway.
She’d hoped it would make her forget, even for a little while.
But now nothing was better with Ryan—and she felt like hell.
Stupid.
Just stupid.
She needed water so desperately that she exerted the effort it took it turn over, vastly relieved to see a full water bottle sitting on the nightstand. Blessing Carol, who must have put it there, she found the coordination to reach for it, twist off the cap, and then take a swig. It hurt her throat going down but also soothed her parched mouth. So she took a few more swallows before she lay down again.
She wondered where Carol was. She doubted her friend would have left her alone, not in the state she’d been in last night.
The last thing she remembered was hearing Ryan’s muffled voice, shouting out her name from outside. But she might have dreamed it. She couldn’t imagine it happening in real life.
Not her life anyway.
When she’d rested a few minutes, she was able to drink some more water, this time purposefully swallowing down almost half the bottle. It helped. When she’d done so, she felt human enough to say a word out loud.
What she said was, “Carol?” Her voice was hoarse, but she thought it would be loud enough to penetrate through to the rest of the apartment.
In a few seconds, Ginny’s door, left slightly ajar, opened all the way.
“Carol went home to get a few hours’ sleep,” someone said from the door. A familiar voice. A female voice.
Emma.
“Oh.” Ginny was so surprised by her friend’s entrance that she had no idea what to say.
Emma walked all the way into the room, wearing a T-shirt, pajama pants, and a ponytail. She had a mug in her hand. “You want this?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Thanks.” Ginny reached out for the mug, surprised to find it was tea instead of coffee. She sipped it anyway. It was hot and soothing and stronger than water.
“I thought coffee might do a number on your stomach,” Emma explained, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Carol said you were really sick last night.”
“I was.” Ginny took another sip and then set the mug down on the nightstand so she could rub her face with both hands. She groaned. “God, I’m a total wreck.”
“I don’t know about that,” Emma said with a little smile. “But it was pretty dumb to have two drinks since you know what they do to you.”
“I know it was dumb.” Ginny let out a long breath. “What are you even doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be at Noah’s?”
“No. I should be here since you’re obviously having a bad weekend. Not that you bothered to tell me.”
A twist of guilt in her chest was so painful Ginny couldn’t speak immediately. “I’m sorry,” she said at last. There was nothing else she could say. “I... I didn’t think I could.”
“Because of Noah. I understand that. But I’d always keep your secrets, even from him. You know that, don’t you?” Emma was quiet, utterly earnest.
For no good reason a couple of tears streamed down Ginny’s cheeks. “Shit,” she muttered, wiping them away quickly.
“So instead,” Emma went on, still with no anger or resentment in her tone, “I had to keep wondering what was wrong with you and worrying about you. Noah was worried too. We haven’t turned into clueless idiots who can’t pick up underlying vibes. I knew something was wrong last night. We were trying to have fun in Roanoke, but I kept stewing about it. Noah was doing the same thing. So we finally just admitted it and realized we both knew something was really wrong. And we were sitting there in Roanoke like selfish asses when you needed us.”
“Emma—” Ginny started to say.
Emma raised a hand to stop the words, still sounding mild, quiet. “So I called you, and you didn’t answer. Noah called Ryan, and he didn’t answer. I called Carol, who kept going on about how she couldn’t tell me anything but I wasn’t supposed to worry. And then I called Patrick, who just snapped at me about how I wasn’t to drag him any further into the soap opera. So Noah and I just came home. And we found you here, sick and mostly passed out and Carol keeping vigil like her life depended on it. She wanted to make sure you knew that she wasn’t the one who had spilled the secret. And I still don’t really know what’s going on, except that my best friend has been having a terrible time and I haven’t been able to help.”
Ginny was almost crying again. She didn’t know what had happened to her over the past few weeks to turn her into a blubbering mess, but she didn’t like it. “I’m sorry,” she managed to say. “I’m really sorry.”
Emma nodded, getting up to grab a few tissues from a box on the dresser and handing them to Ginny. “I know you are. So this is about Ryan, I guess. I can’t think of anything else that would upset you so much or any other reason why you’d be so intent on keeping it from Noah.”
“Yeah.”
“Did he... did he do something?”
Ginny breathed for a minute before she could say, “He didn’t do any
thing. We had sex. But now he doesn’t want me.”
Emma inclined her head as if she’d expected something similar.
“He...” Ginny had to start again. “I know we’ve been broken up for years, but I always kind of thought we might... or at least we could get back together someday. I never admitted it, but it was always there at the back of my mind. But he doesn’t want that. Ever. So it feels like I lost him... for good.”
“I’m so sorry, Ginny,” Emma said hoarsely. “I know how you feel about him. How you’ve always felt.”
“I didn’t think I did... anymore. But I guess I never really stopped.” She gave a wry laugh, feeling just a little better, despite the dead weight in her chest. “So that’s what led to my downward spiral and humiliating collapse. Kind of a cliché, now that I think about it.”
“Don’t be like that, Ginny. Don’t try to brush it off. It’s a broken heart, and it’s horrible.”
Ginny swallowed hard, nodding in confirmation.
It was horrible.
And the worst thing was that she couldn’t imagine a morning ever coming when she didn’t feel just as horrible.
“So what happened with Ryan last night? I mean, didn’t he try to... try to help you?”
“He didn’t know. He didn’t see. He came over here after midnight to see what was going on, but Patrick sent him away.” Ginny sighed. “I saw him leaving the bar with another woman.”
“What?” Emma’s spine stiffened with a jerk. “He did not. After just sleeping with you?”
“We’re not in a relationship. He can sleep with anyone he wants. It just... it just really upset me.”
“Of course it did. I can’t believe he would do something like that. I just... can’t believe it.” Emma’s features twisted. “Are you sure that’s what happened?”
“I saw him leave with her.”
Emma seemed to intentionally brush the topic away like she was saving it for another time. “Anyway, I do understand why it would be awkward to have this conversation with Noah. I really do get it. But you’ve got to tell him something. He’s your brother, and he’s really worried about you.”
“Emma, I can’t—”
“You don’t have to tell him everything, but you need to tell him something. Ginny, it’s not fair to keep him in the dark. You have no idea about the things he’s imagining. Really terrible things. And he’s going to keep imagining them unless you tell him some of the truth.”
“Oh shit.” Ginny breathed, feeling another twisting of guilt. “I guess I was just kind of hoping that you two would be so caught up in romantic bliss that you wouldn’t really notice that anything was going on.”
“Well, you were wrong. We both love you. And we did notice. So you’ll tell him something?”
Ginny groaned, although she knew Emma was right. “Yes, I will. But you remember how Patrick acted when you told him about Noah? I couldn’t stand for anything to come between Noah and Ryan that way.”
“He’s your brother, Ginny.”
“I know he is. I’ll talk to him. I promise.”
“No need to promise.” Emma was almost smiling as she stood up. “He’s sitting on my couch right now.”
“What?” Ginny’s voice almost screeched in her astonishment and outrage. “Why is he here?”
“For the same reason I’m here. He came with me last night. Did you think I could convince him to go home?”
Ginny hadn’t even thought that far. She groaned again.
“So just talk to him. Tell him something. At least part of the truth. You have to.” Emma was already at the door. “I practically had to handcuff him to the side table to get him to stay put while I talked to you alone. I’m not about to tell him he can’t talk to you now.”
Ginny rubbed her eyes and then reached for her mug, taking a few sips in the minute it took for Emma to leave and Noah to come in.
He was still dressed for his evening out with Emma—in a charcoal-gray dress shirt and tailored black trousers. He needed to shave, and his eyes were sober as he came over to the bed. He glanced around, but since there were no chairs in the room, he did as Emma had and sat on the edge of the bed.
His eyes were fixed on her face, but he didn’t say anything. He was obviously waiting for her to talk.
“I’m sorry, Noah,” she said, reaching out to put a hand on his arm. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
“Well, you did.”
“I know.”
“You drank last night?”
“Yeah. Two drinks. It was... stupid.”
“I’ve done stupid things too. Much stupider things than you’ve ever done. You think I wouldn’t understand?”
“Oh, I know you’d understand the drinking. Actually, I know you’d understand all of it. We’re kind of alike, you know.”
He almost smiled. “I know.” After a pause, he continued. “If you knew I’d understand, then why wouldn’t you talk to me?”
She made a face, searching for an answer.
“Something with Ryan, I guess,” Noah said, saving her the effort of finding the words.
“Yes.”
Noah cleared his throat. “Did he... did he treat you bad?”
“Not... really.” She hated herself for the hesitation between the two words, but she couldn’t seem to help it.
Ryan had had sex with her and then blown her off. If she’d been a stranger to him, it might not have been that big a deal. But she wasn’t a stranger. She was his best friend’s sister.
One of the rules of the guy code—as she understood it—was that you didn’t treat your best friend’s sister that way.
Noah might have done it himself, but that just meant he knew how wrong it was.
She saw muscles in his jaw ripple as if he were clenching his teeth. “What did he do?” he asked in a low tone.
“It wasn’t really anything he did,” Ginny said in a rush. “I guess he might have made a few mistakes, but I made mistakes too. This isn’t Ryan’s fault. It’s not, Noah. It’s just I... I’m mostly upset because I know for sure now that I can never have a future with him. I was holding on to that hope without even knowing it, and now it’s gone for good. That’s what hurts me the most. It’s not Ryan’s fault. It’s just the way things are.”
Noah’s forehead wrinkled, although it looked like his jaw had relaxed. “Why do you think you can’t have a future with him?”
“Because he told me.”
“He did?”
“Straight out. I’m not making it up or trying to read between the lines. He told me in very clear words. He doesn’t want me—ever.”
Noah was frowning even more deeply now, and he looked away as if he were thinking hard. “That doesn’t sound right.”
“I don’t care how it sounds. That’s what he said. And I can tell when he’s lying. He wasn’t, Noah.”
Noah shook his head and stood up. “I’m going to talk to him.”
“No!” Ginny’s throat hurt from the loud exclamation, and she tried to reach out to grab Noah’s arm, but he was too far away. “Noah, don’t! I told you because you’re my brother, and I didn’t want you to imagine the worst. I didn’t tell you so you can fix things.”
“I’m not trying to fix things. I promise. But Ryan is my friend too—although we’re going to have some words if he’s done what it sounds like he’s done—and something is wrong here. I believe you that he told you that, but...” He was still shaking his head. “No, it’s wrong. I’m going to talk to him.”
“Noah, please! I don’t want him to think I sent you after him. This is just between him and me.”
“Are you really trying to tell me that? Was it not less than six months ago when we sat in Nan’s kitchen and you interfered shamelessly in my relationship with Emma?”
“But that was diff—”
She cut off her own words because she wasn’t sure it was different at all. She loved both Emma and Noah, and so she’d done everything she could to help them figure things ou
t. Noah was just doing the same thing.
“Please don’t guilt him, Noah,” Ginny said in a different tone. “I couldn’t bear it if he tried to fix things with me out of guilt or something, just because you told him to.”
“I’m not going to do that. I just want to find out what’s going on with him. Because something definitely isn’t right.”
He came back to the bed, leaned down, and kissed her on the forehead. “Thank you for telling me.”
Ginny just sighed.
Men were always like that. If there was a problem, they wanted to fix it—even if a fix was impossible.
Women were different.
When Noah left, Emma came back in and refilled Ginny’s mug of tea. Then she got into the bed too and watched decorating shows with her until Ginny started to feel a little better.
RYAN COULDN’T SLEEP at all that night, so at three thirty in the morning he went outside and started doing chores.
He did every odd job he’d left undone around the property, working until he was drenched with sweat and breathless from exhaustion.
He couldn’t sit down and rest though. He had too much angst, too much unchanneled emotion. So at nine thirty, when there was nothing obvious left for him to do, he went into the large outbuilding where he kept supplies and started moving the large stack of fifty-pound bags of feed from one wall to another.
He’d only moved five bags when he became aware of a presence in the doorway.
When he turned his head, he saw Noah silhouetted against the brightening daylight outside.
Noah didn’t say anything. He just stood like a statue.
Ryan felt a rising of guilt and knowledge in his stomach, but he swallowed it down and turned back to pick up the next bag of feed to carry over to the new pile he had started.
After a minute, Noah came all the way in. Instead of speaking, he walked over to the far wall, heaved up a bag of feed, and carried it over to the new stack.
The fact that Noah wasn’t yelling at him or beating him up or doing anything except helping him just made Ryan feel more like a miserable asshole.
After a minute of silently working, Noah finally said, “At least you’re not drunk out of your mind the way I was in the same situation.”