“I...I wanted to talk to you before class, but I’m glad I heard that speech first. Because I knew you were right before, but now I know it even more.”
I took two breaths.
“You were right about what you said about me, about how I see myself and others, you were right. I don’t give other people a chance to give up on me. I never really thought of it that way before, but you were right.” He dropped his forearms to his knees. “It’s weird. You know, what you said to me at the funeral, about Jayden and that being real? I... God, I could only say this to you, because you understand, but I didn’t feel real. In some ways, I still don’t.”
“I do understand.” I held the book tighter. “I totally do.”
His lashes lifted and his eyes pierced mine. “I know. Both of us were that damn rabbit.” He laughed roughly. “I was sitting in that funeral on Saturday and I...I was thinking about everything. Thinking about how fucking unfair it was that Jayden was in that damn casket and something hit me right then. I’ve been living like I didn’t have anything. No family. No opportunities. No one who really cared if I was here or not, and I was looking at Jayden, sitting next to his brother and his grandmother and I...” His voice cut, and my chest squeezed. “Jayden had a family. He had opportunity. You know? He had plenty of people who cared about him being here, and yet, he still ended up dead in the damn streets.”
Rider shoved his hand through his hair. “And I’m here. I’m so damn lucky, because I haven’t been careful. Henry could’ve easily killed me.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. He was so right there. Many times I’d thought Henry was going to beat him to death.
“When Henry’s friends would come...after me, I used to think I did something, you know? That it was somehow my fault—”
“What? That wasn’t your fault, Rider. None of that was.”
“I know, but sometimes my head gets... It gets messed up.” He paused. “And when I was in that group home, I didn’t care. I got in older, bigger kids’ faces. I got the shit knocked out of me multiple times, and I didn’t care. By the time Mrs. Luna came along, it felt too late for me. She tried. She really did—still does, and I’ve done so many stupid things that should’ve ended my life.”
I hated hearing that. It scared me to death.
“Jayden makes one or two bad mistakes, and he’s dead. Me, I’m still here.” He dropped his head back and sighed. “I’d been given opportunities others hadn’t and I’ve been wasting them, and now I have to really wonder if it is too late.”
“It’s not,” I whispered, truly believing it.
His throat worked on a swallow. “After the funeral, I went home and I picked up that book. I...I started reading it. Don’t even know why, but I got to that part, and I... God, it hit me, you know? The truth of those damn words the Skin Horse spoke. Being real could hurt. Being loved could hurt. That’s what...what living is all about and the opposite is unimaginable.”
Lowering the book to my lap, I smoothed my palm over the hard, glossy surface as I thought about the Skin Horse’s words. They could be interpreted in so many ways. To me, they were all about letting go of the fear of being imperfect. Accepting that it was okay to be wanted and needed and loved, to be heard and seen.
Rider and I were a lot like the little boy and the rabbit who wanted to be real. Both of us spent so long relying on only each other. We’d been tossed aside, unwanted. And we wanted nothing more than to be cherished, treasured and loved. We wanted to feel real. Both of us were afraid of the opposite. To some the opposite was death but to me—to us—it was being stuck forever. Never changing. Never seeing ourselves or others around us differently.
“I do,” he continued, voice gruff. “I do care. I don’t want to be like this forever.”
My gaze rose to his.
“I broke up with you because I thought it would be better that way. That you would eventually find someone who has their shit together, who has a future and isn’t stuck. Things were—are—messed up in my head. I’m trying, really trying, to change that.”
I stilled.
“I know you may never forgive me for hurting you. I can understand that. I can also understand if you don’t want to have to deal with me while I’m trying to do better, be better, but I...I want to be the person I think you deserve.”
Oh, my...
“I want to be the guy with a future, with his shit together and who has hope,” he admitted, scooting toward the edge of the window seat. His gaze met mine and those beautiful eyes carried a sheen that tore through my heart. “I want to be the guy worthy of your love, and I swear, if you’ll have me, I’ll do everything in my power to be that man. I’ll never stop trying. Ever.”
Oh, my, my...
“And I want you to know that I heard what you said in that speech,” Rider said, his voice scratchy. “I might’ve saved you all those years ago, but now you’ve saved me.”
My heart stuttered and then sped up. I reacted without thought. Placing the book on the bed, I launched myself at Rider just as he came off the window seat. We collided. I folded my arms around him as we went down onto the floor, me partially in his lap and his arms tight around my waist, his face burrowed against my neck. I felt a tremor run through his body and then he shook in my arms. I held him tighter as he broke into pieces, and years of holding it together shattered. I held him through it all.
Then it was me who put Rider back together.
Epilogue
The remote was right there, taunting me from where it rested on the thick cushion of the ottoman, next to the tray that held two glasses and a bowl of barely touched pretzels. All I would have to do was sit up a little and stretch. I could grab it and I wouldn’t have to watch any more of this basketball game.
Sitting up and stretching wasn’t exactly doable at that moment, though.
A heavy arm was curled around my waist, and if I moved too much, I’d wake Rider and that was the last thing I wanted to do, especially when he’d been so exhausted the last couple of days. The shadows deepening under his eyes every day the last two weeks worried me.
He’d been pulling a lot of hours at the garage on a custom paint job he’d finished up on Thursday. After school yesterday I’d gotten to check it out, and like every design of Rider’s, it had been amazing. Mind-blowing. I still had no idea how he could take paint and spray it on any surface, designing something so amazing and intricate.
This custom job had been on a car the owner raced at one of the tracks near Frederick. On the hood, Rider had painted a dragon, complete with detailed green-and-purple scales. Reddish-orange flames erupted from the dragon’s gaping mouth and crawled along the front side panels.
I’d snapped a picture of it with a real camera, to add to Rider’s ever-expanding portfolio of work. Like before, he had acted weird about it, as if he still didn’t know how to process recognizing his own talent.
I still had no idea how he didn’t see that, but he was getting better at it. Like so many other things, like me, it was a work in progress.
Rider had told me a few weeks ago that sometimes he opened up the photo book we’d picked up together at the craft store and just flipped through the pictures of his work. His cheeks had been bright red when he admitted it. I’d thought the reaction had been adorable. Sometimes we sat and looked at his art together, and he blushed then, too.
But the custom job wasn’t what had Rider worn out to the point that he’d fallen asleep the minute his head had hit the throw pillow on the couch.
This morning had been a big deal for him.
He’d used up every spare moment of the last several weeks preparing for the SATs he’d taken this morning. A smile inched across my face. Studying for the exam wasn’t something he’d ever thought he’d do. His taking the exam had probably shocked the entire school administration into stunned silence. Well, except for Mr. Santos.
A goal was scored, and the crowd on the TV cheered. Or was it a point? A basket? I really had no idea. Why c
ouldn’t I have telekinetic powers? Moving things with my mind would be awesome.
Glancing down at where Rider’s hand was lying on my lower stomach, I welcomed the dipping sensation. The fluttering feeling that occurred every so often with Rider wasn’t something that faded with time. I didn’t think it was ever going to.
Blue paint was smudged along the inside of his middle finger. He never seemed to get all the paint off his fingers.
I tilted my head back and looked to my right. The fluttering turned into a thousand butterflies bouncing between my ribs as my gaze coasted over Rider’s striking face. Feeling a little like a creeper, I continued to check him out. A lock of dark brown hair, the color of coffee, fell across his forehead. Thick lashes, much darker than his hair, fanned his cheeks. His full lips were slightly parted.
It seemed strange now that there was a point in my life, a point that lasted for several years, where I sincerely believed I’d never see Rider again. When lying like this, in his arms, was a fantasy I hadn’t even allowed myself to dream about. Now it was a reality.
Life was weird.
“If you take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he murmured.
My eyes widened as heat poured into my cheeks. “What?”
Lashes lifted slowly, revealing eyes that seemed to be neither completely brown nor green. “The picture will last longer than you staring. Then you can have a picture to cuddle with at night, when I’m not with you. You can hold it close. Squeeze it tight.”
I rolled my eyes as my lips twitched into a grin. “Whatever.”
“Uh-huh.” Lifting his arm, he stretched it above his head as he yawned. “When are Carl and Rosa getting here?”
I glanced at the pale gray wall clock. “Probably in an hour.”
“Good thing I’m awake instead of drooling on you as they walk through the door.”
“Yes,” I said seriously. “Good point.”
Rider smirked, but joking aside, neither Rosa nor Carl would be thrilled to come home and find us snuggled together on the couch. It wasn’t like they expected Rider and me not to get, well, close to one another. But they were still...adjusting to my relationship with Rider. It was another work in progress, and they were coming along. They were trying, and that was so much better than their being afraid of what they originally believed Rider symbolized.
Plus, it helped that Rider was becoming more serious about his future, and studying for the SATs had helped endear him a little to goal-oriented Carl. Winning him over completely was harder, but I could tell Carl was beginning to respect him. He was starting to see him as more than a boy with no future who was going to lead me down the wrong path like the Pied Piper of Hotness, but their walking in on us all wrapped up together probably wasn’t going to help matters. I started to sit up.
Rider’s arm tightened around my waist and he rolled slightly, shifting me under him. My hands lifted to his shoulders, and when I looked up, my heart stuttered at the sight of his half grin. “Where you going?” he asked.
“Up.” My fingers closed, gathering the material of his shirt. “Carl will...kick you out of the house...if he finds us like this and you don’t even want to know what Rosa will do.”
“True.” He dipped his head, running his nose over mine. “Rosa still scares me.”
I giggled.
“You think that’s funny, but she really does.” Tipping his head to the side, he kissed my cheek. “I’m convinced she knows how to deliver as much damage as possible with a single punch. She’s a doctor. She knows things.”
Laughing again, I tried to picture Rosa punching anything and failed. I patted his shoulder. “You’ll be okay.”
“I might need you to protect me.” He kissed my other cheek again.
The corners of my lips curved up. “I...I can do that.”
This time his lips brushed my temple. “Sorry about falling asleep as soon as I got here. We haven’t been able to spend a lot of time together, and the first time we do and I’m not studying or working on a car, I sleep on you.”
I kind of liked him sleeping on me. “It’s okay. You’ve been...working hard. How do you think you did?”
Rider lifted his head. “I think I did pretty good. Only a few questions really threw me.”
Thrilled to hear that, I smiled. “Are you excited?”
“I guess. I mean...” He trailed off, brows knitting. “There’s still a lot that’s got to fall into place. I have until June to get the form in for financial aid, but it’s going to be hard getting in with my grades this late in the game. I’d have to have blown the SATs out of the water.”
“But you have spring. If you don’t get into the fall semester, it’s...not over,” I reasoned. “Before you know it, you’ll be at College Park with me, studying visual arts.”
“You’re right.” A wicked little grin tugged at his lips. “I think we should celebrate.” Pausing, he waggled his brows at me. “We have fifty minutes now. I only need, like, five of them.”
“Oh my God,” I laughed, shoving at his shoulders. “You’re terrible.”
“I’m not terrible.” His eyes met mine, and the flutter was back, deeper and more dizzying. “I’m in love.”
Oh, gosh. My heart swelled like a balloon, and all I could do was stare at him for several seconds before I managed to whisper, “I love you, too.”
“I know.” Rider lowered his mouth to mine, and the kiss scattered my thoughts. I was still shocked that a kiss had that kind of power, that when his tongue touched mine, I could forget everything in the world.
The kiss ended all too soon. Rider shifted off me and sat up, lifting my legs so they were in his lap, and I sort of lay there, arms lax at my sides as I stared at him. A goofy smile split my lips, and I didn’t care. I was thinking about how we could utilize the remaining fifty minutes.
“How’re things with Dr. Taft?” he asked as he shifted his legs, spreading them a little. “I didn’t get the chance to ask you yesterday.”
Huh? I started to frown. I was over here thinking about getting back to kissing and other stuff, really nice stuff, and he just mentioned my therapist’s name?
Rider smacked my leg lightly and chuckled. “Focus.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, but focusing was hard when my body felt like I’d been out lying in the sun. “It was...good. We talked about how I was feeling and how I was...handling stress.”
I’d started seeing Dr. Taft once every two weeks again. Mainly because I felt like I needed someone who wasn’t a part of everyday life to just...talk things out, because I still had work on myself to do. It had been really depressing at first, because it had been two years since I’d spent time in his office. Like I’d somehow gone back into the past instead of progressing forward, but Taft drilled something into my head that was so important. Something I’d already known, but really needed to understand.
The past never went away and it was not designed to do so.
It would always be there, and it should be acknowledged. Dr. Taft insisted that attempting to erase the past would only lead to a crisis in the future, and he was right. My past could not be surgically cut out of me. It couldn’t be removed from Rider. What happened to Jayden couldn’t be forgotten.
My past was a part of me and it molded who I was today, but it was not the sum of who I was to become. It did not control me.
Rider leaned over and found my hand. He threaded his fingers through mine and squeezed. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Pressure clamped down on my chest and I squeezed his hand back. I thought with Jayden dying, it had Rider on his toes. Having mortality smack you in the face would do that. “You won’t.”
“Good.” Rider smiled as he tugged me up into a sitting position. His other hand cupped my cheek, and he kissed me once more, sweet and soft. He pulled back just enough so that his warm breath danced along my lips. “I think I want to kiss you again.”
“I’m more than okay with that,” I told him, and I smiled.
; Truthfully, I was okay with...with myself. I wasn’t a hundred percent, and that was okay, because I was a work in progress. There were moments when things felt too much, like the other day when I had to stand up and deliver another speech. There were other situations, especially when I thought about the fact that I’d be in college in less than a year. Or when I found my mind wandering to Jayden. Death was frightening and overwhelming. Sometimes, when I thought about what Ainsley was facing in the future, I stressed out for her.
I still had a lot of work to do and that was my work to complete and it was my voice that needed to be heard when I needed to speak. No one else. It was me who had to carry myself over the finish line, and all I needed to remember when I felt like not trying was that that feeling wouldn’t last forever.
Forever.
I used to believe it didn’t exist. One word had terrified me as a child and haunted me. But now I knew, in many small ways, that it was real, but it didn’t scare me anymore. Forever wasn’t the little girl cowering in the closet. Forever wasn’t the shadow sitting in the back of the class. Forever wasn’t doing what I thought Carl and Rosa wanted instead of what I needed to do with my life. Forever wasn’t believing I was some kind of replacement daughter and that I was letting them down. Forever wasn’t being the one who needed protection.
Forever wasn’t pain and grief.
Forever wasn’t a problem.
Forever was my heartbeat and it was the hope tomorrow held. Forever was the glistening silver lining of every dark cloud, no
The Problem with Forever Page 44