A pause followed. A pause so long she wished she could recall the question. Then the covers rustled.
“Resent you? Why would I resent you?”
Her heart squeezed hard. He was going to make her say it. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “Because . . . you know, you had to marry me.”
The room went still. Abby’s breath froze in her lungs as tension filled the space between them. The question made her vulnerable, and she hated feeling vulnerable.
Just when she’d had about all she could take—when she was about to laugh it off—the sheets stirred, and she felt him sitting up beside the bed.
He touched her arm, followed it down to her hand, still clutching the quilt. “Abby, sweetheart . . . I didn’t marry you because I had to. I loved you. I wanted you to be my wife, baby or no baby. Maybe the wedding happened a little sooner than it would’ve otherwise, but make no mistake. I meant to make you mine.”
He wrapped his hand around hers. “Is that what you thought? That after you lost the baby I—I didn’t want you anymore? Did I make you feel that way?” His voice broke.
She didn’t want to hurt him—and that was a new thing for her. But it was long past time for truth. “I don’t know what made me feel that way. But I did.”
His fingers slipped around hers and lifted her hand. She felt the press of his lips on her knuckles. In every cell of her body.
“I never meant to make you feel that way. I’m sorry. I loved you, I never—”
She waited for him to finish, but he just lowered her hand to the mattress.
The wind kicked up, and the rain battered the window. How could things have gone so wrong when they’d both loved each other? She thought of all the stupid songs claiming love was all you needed. It wasn’t true. She and Ryan were living proof.
“When you left I was hurt and angry,” he said. “I thought we’d be together forever. Things were hard, but I thought we’d work through it. I’d seen my parents work through hard times—tough stuff, like when my brother Michael died. But through it all they never stopped loving each other. I thought we’d be like that.”
Abby breathed a wry laugh. “I’m nothing like your family, Ryan. They hated me from day one.”
“They didn’t hate you. Maybe they didn’t warm up to you right away . . . but you’re not the easiest person to get to know.”
She pulled her hand away. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I didn’t mean it as an insult. It took me months to scale those walls, but it was worth every second. I wanted you to open to my family. I wanted them to see you the way I did, love you like I did. You letting me in, Abby . . . it felt like the most humbling privilege. Like you trusted me above everyone else.”
“I did.” For him it had felt like a privilege. For her it had been the scariest step of her life.
“And I let you down.”
She wanted to deny it. But the truth was, they’d let each other down.
“I should’ve fought for you. I shouldn’t have let you go. I wish—”
Her heart squeezed. She wouldn’t have admitted it at the time, but it was what she’d desperately wanted. Even while she’d been leaving, she’d been hoping he’d stop her. But she’d been too proud, too scared to say it.
She was still too scared to say it.
“Abby—”
“It’s getting late.” Her hand trembled against her cheek. “We should get some sleep. We’re leaving early.”
He was silent for a dozen heartbeats. Abby lay frozen against the pillow, waiting.
“Abby, I—”
“Don’t, Ryan.” Whatever he was about to say was something she couldn’t hear. Not now. Not tonight. Maybe never.
“All right.”
Finally he shifted away, the sheets whispering as he settled back into place. But Abby lay awake long into the night, pondering all the things he’d said.
Chapter Fifteen
RYAN DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TIME IT WAS. THREE O’CLOCK? Four? There was no clock, and his cell was charging across the room.
The storm continued to rage outside, the rain pounding the roof, the wind whistling through the crevices of the old house.
Everything was quiet in the bed above. Abby had probably been sound asleep for hours, while his brain refused to shut off.
He couldn’t believe she’d talked to him. Really talked to him. And while that realization should’ve buoyed his spirits, it didn’t. Because her question had slayed him.
Did you resent me after I lost the baby?
It was like a punch in the gut. She’d been his wife, his lover, his soul mate. How had he let such a basic thing as his unwavering love go unspoken? He’d spent the last few hours going through every memory he could retrieve, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong.
He’d thought he’d been affectionate and loving after she’d lost the baby. He’d held her long into the night, knowing she was hurting, wondering why she didn’t cry. Maybe some hurts were too big for tears. She’d snuggle into his side, pressing so close, like she was trying to mesh them into one person.
But as the weeks went on, she pulled away. When he tried to hold her she didn’t curl into him as she did before. She was stiff and unyielding. She wouldn’t talk about it, and he figured losing the baby had somehow made the walls go up again. He resigned himself to tearing them down once more, one brick at a time.
But this time it wasn’t working.
He couldn’t seem to do anything right, and as the months passed, she grew angry. About his working all the time, about Cassidy, about money. The list was endless, and she was always pushing his buttons. She didn’t seem happy unless she was making him angry.
In between the bickering they still made love. Make-up sex during the dark, quiet hours of the night became the new norm. But afterward he’d find they hadn’t made up at all. She was still distant and reluctant to talk about anything that mattered. Until the next fight.
One spring afternoon Abby came into the school to bring some insurance papers they needed on file, and he was in the office with Cassidy when she came in. He’d only been catching up with his friend, but he’d been perched on her desk—a stupid move, he realized later.
Abby dropped the file on the desk and left the room without a word. Later there was no convincing her it had been innocent. Things were tense around the house all week, despite his repeated attempts to set things straight.
That Saturday he woke to find Abby had gone out somewhere. He went about his morning, going for a jog, then grading papers while SportsCenter played on the TV. He wondered where Abby was and when she’d be home. She was always wanting him home, and now that he was, she was gone. They needed to resolve this thing about Cassidy—and the dozen other issues that had crept up over the last year.
The rumble of her car sounded outside, and a few minutes later the front door opened. He looked up from a particularly bad essay, and his red pen froze when he saw her.
Her long beautiful curls were gone. Her hair was chopped off at her chin. She met his eyes, tipping her chin up as she shut the door behind her. She passed him, going into the kitchen.
His breath leaked out. It was just hair, he told himself. Her hair. Just a bunch of dead cells. It would grow back.
But he loved her long hair. And she knew it. He’d told her so a hundred times. He drew his fingers through it while she slept, wrapped it around his fist in moments of passion. It hurt that she’d cut it all off without even warning him.
She wandered back into the living room and stood in front of him, arms crossed. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“I can’t believe you cut it.”
Her lips snapped together, and her eyes grew distant. She looked so different without her hair flowing across her shoulders. Harder, somehow.
“I wanted a change,” she said. “I’m sorry you don’t find me attractive anymore.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid, Abby.”
&n
bsp; An angry flush bloomed on her cheeks, and her jaw set. “I’m not stupid.”
“I didn’t mean it that way, and you know it. Why did you do this? Is this some point you’re trying to make? Because I can’t read your mind, and I sure can’t figure out all the subliminal messages you send me.”
“Sometimes a haircut is just a haircut.”
He tossed his papers aside and got up, walking away. “Not with you, Abby.”
She grabbed his elbow, stopping him. “Don’t walk away from me. And stop making this more than it is.”
He turned and drilled her with a look. “You did this to hurt me. To get back at me for some perceived relationship with a girl I’m not even interested in.”
“Perceived! You were practically perched on her lap!”
“I was just talking to her! She’s a friend, Abby. Just a friend.”
“I saw the way she was looking at you, and if you can’t see it, you’re blind!”
He blew out his breath and laced his hands behind his neck, his eyes never wavering from his wife’s callous expression.
“What do you want from me, Abby?”
His heart was thumping like he’d just run a 5K. The woman would be the death of him. Sometimes he wanted to grab her and shake some sense into her.
Her eyes were flat, her lips a hard line set in a stubborn jaw. “I don’t want anything from you, Ryan.”
The words hurt, set off a flare of fear that exploded in a flash of anger. “When did you become so cold, Abby?” His voice sounded like it had been raked across a steel grate. “You’ve got a heart of stone, and somehow I’m the last to realize it.”
Something flashed in her eyes, her nose flared. Then she turned and left the room.
She didn’t talk to him for the rest of the weekend, and if he thought about it, their relationship had never recovered from those careless words. They weren’t true. He knew it the second after he’d said them. The hard shell, he’d long suspected, was only a protective barrier for a very soft heart. But he was angry. He’d wanted to hurt her the way she’d hurt him.
As he shifted on the floor for the hundredth time, he thought of her dad and the verbal abuse she’d suffered. She’d never confided in him about the details, but he’d heard enough the morning before to know it must’ve been bad. If he spoke to her that way now, when she was an adult, how had he spoken to her then? And how had those harsh words shaped the woman she’d become?
Chapter Sixteen
SOMEONE WAS KNOCKING. ABBY PRIED OPEN HER EYES. Light drifted through the curtains, brighter than it usually was when she woke. She checked her watch and frowned. They’d overslept. She wanted to be on the road early so they could make it home late tomorrow.
A knock sounded at the door. “Abby?”
Her mom. And the door was unlocked. “Just a minute.”
She reached down and shook Ryan. “Ryan, wake up,” she whispered.
He slept like the dead.
She shook him harder. “Ryan!”
He stirred. “Huh? What?”
“Get in the bed, quick!”
A smile rolled over his sleepy features, his eyes still closed. “I knew you’d come around.”
“Honey, your dad needs something from the bureau,” her mom called.
Ryan’s eyes snapped open. He shot up, shoved his linens under the bed and slid under the covers, his bare arm against hers. The full-sized bed suddenly felt like a twin.
“Come in.” Abby pulled the sheet to her shoulders even though her tank was modest enough. It was Ryan who should worry, the quilt barely covering his jeans.
“Morning,” Mom said as she slipped in, already dressed and ready. She began rooting through a bureau drawer. “Sorry if I woke you. Your dad’s working on the car and needs an old T-shirt.”
“I’m glad you did. We overslept. We’ll be out of here as soon as we grab showers.”
Mom met her eyes in the mirror. “Oh, honey. The Crofton Street Bridge is flooded. It’s all over the news this morning.”
Well, that was a bummer. The only other road out of town would take them an hour out of their way. “We’ll just have to take Bristol Road.”
“That’s been under construction for weeks. It’s closed.”
“What does that mean?” Ryan asked.
Abby released a breath, realization sinking in. “We’re stuck.”
“There’s no getting out of town until that water recedes,” Mom said. “They’re saying tomorrow sometime. The rain’s let up.” She smiled at them in the mirror. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of food, and we still have electric. I get a whole extra day with my baby. You can help me open the gifts later.”
Abby forced a smile. Another day in this house. Another day with Ryan. And she was going to miss an extra day of work. Frank was going to love that. Lewis sure would.
Mom pulled a shirt from the drawer and shut it. “Breakfast is in the Crock-Pot. Come on down when you’re ready.” The door closed behind her.
Abby sank into the pillows, her heart still pounding from the rude awakening, from the bad news. She closed her eyes, wanting this to be over. She was tired from her sleepless night, from the emotional trauma of reliving their failed marriage. She just wanted to be home, in her own apartment, her own bed.
The bed bounced, and Ryan’s leg brushed hers.
He’d rolled onto his side, facing her, too close. His head was propped on his palm, his hair all tousled and sexy. His eyes had that sleepy look, and his mouth was curling in a big grin.
“What are you looking so smug for?”
“Looks like we’re married ’til Monday now.”
She scowled. “Don’t you have a football team to get back to?”
“They’re not going anywhere.”
“Wow. I thought the earth and every other celestial body revolved around that team.”
His eyes gentled, the lift of his lips softened. “Things change, Abby.”
Looking into his sleepy brown eyes, she could almost believe it. Their conversation from the night before played in her head. I should’ve fought for you. I shouldn’t have let you go. Those words would play in her mind for years.
He touched her face, his thumb trailing along her cheek. Her chest tightened at the touch. She’d always loved his hands. So big and strong, yet so tender. His eyes locked onto hers, making her breath quicken.
She had to stop this. He was sucking her right back in. She knew where this trail ended, and she wouldn’t wind up at the same dead end as before.
She pulled away, slipping from the bed. “I’m going to get a shower.” She didn’t look back to see if she’d chased his smile away.
Church was canceled because of the storm, so they hung around the house. Ryan wondered if Abby even went to church anymore. She’d stopped going once their relationship had started spiraling downhill. She’d said she didn’t want to be around his family, that she felt like an outsider, but he’d wondered if that was the real reason.
Her daily devotions, which she’d always done faithfully, had become a thing of the past. She stopped talking about God, or if she did, it was in a cynical way. He hadn’t seen any evidence that had changed since they’d been together this week.
They helped Lillian open gifts, cleaned up the kitchen, and worked a puzzle together. Now Abby and Ryan sat on the sofa, watching a movie. Lillian was still working her puzzle behind them. Bud was in the garage changing the oil in his car, and Boo was curled up at Ryan’s feet, snoring louder than seemed possible for such a small creature.
Ryan glanced at Abby. Her eyes were closed. Maybe she hadn’t slept as well as he’d thought. His gaze scrolled over her face, so vulnerable in sleep, her feathery eyelashes brushing her cheeks, her lips slack, slightly parted. Her feet were tucked under her, her arms crossed over her chest, her head propped at an awkward angle. She didn’t look comfortable. She looked cold, and the way she was positioned, she’d awaken with a crick in her neck.
He reached over carefully
and lowered her into his lap. She stirred, uttering a sweet little whimper, before settling on his thigh, her hands tucked under her chin. He pulled the throw from the back of the sofa and draped it over her, leaving his hand on the curve of her waist.
He stared down at her, recalling the moment in bed earlier after her mom left. The look in her eyes, shifting from frustration to something else. Something warmer. He’d wanted to kiss her so badly. Had nearly leaned in and risked it. But then she’d gotten that look in her eyes. The one that said she was about to run. And he’d been right—seconds later she’d sprung from the bed.
They’d come a long way, but they still had miles to go. And so little time. Abby had told him after lunch that she wanted to drive through the night on the way back. His time with her was ticking away. If they left in the morning, he had only one more day. He’d be driving through the night, and she’d be sleeping.
He drew his hand through her locks, his fingers remembering the downy softness of her hair. The silver ring on his finger caught his eye. He didn’t want to take it off ever again.
God, I need Your help. I need my wife back. Show me the way.
Lillian came around the sofa, settling in the recliner across the way with her knitting needles and a ball of blue yarn.
She looked at Abby over the top of her bifocals. “She always could sleep just about anywhere.”
He smiled, remembering. “She fell asleep on a bus seat once with fifty ninth graders screaming all around her. Though to be fair, we’d just returned from an overnighter, and I’m pretty sure she was up all night.”
He pulled his fingers through her hair. It seemed he was addicted to the silky softness. Her eyelids fluttered in sleep. Her shoulders rose and fell peacefully.
“It must be different for you here,” Lillian said.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know, your big family. It’s quiet here, just Bud and me. Not at all what you’re used to, I’m sure.”
“I do have a large, noisy family.” He gave a wry grin and pretended to watch the movie.
“They’re very nice. I always wanted a big family.” She sighed dreamily.
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