Page 90 of Pulled Away

Looking back down at the cheque, I confirm that it’s the bank both Ryan and I bank at.

“I can’t take your money, Ryan.”

He stares at me for a few beats, his face giving nothing away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just…don’t lie to me. This is the money from your house, isn’t it?”

I watch as he straightens, stepping up to Nathan’s desk.

“Dance with me.”

“What?”

“Dance with me,” he repeats himself, holding out his hand. His stare is unwavering, his hand steady as he waits for my decision. I stare at it as if it’s a snake, coiled and ready to strike.

“Here?” I say, standing up and running my hands down my jeans. I’m so jumbled up that I don’t know if I want to run towards him or away.

He nods. “Yes, here. There’s space,” he motions toward the tiny space between Nathan’s desk and the wall, a space that allows for some conservative swaying at the most. “And there’s music.” Which is true. The jukebox is still doing its thing.

He holds out his hand to me again, but this time there’s a plea in his eyes.

Why does a yes feel like more than agreeing to a dance?

Blowing out a breath, I step around the desk, and his arms wind around my waist without hesitation. As if he’s scared I’ll walk towards the door instead of him. Feeling his arms around me, his body pressed against me is strange after so many months apart, and yet, it’s not. I’ve spent countless hours during our time together mapping every inch of Ryan’s body, and it’s as familiar to me as my own.

Squeezing my eyes, I try to reign in my emotions. This is the closest we’ve been since Hadley came in like a wrecking ball and completely laid waste to our relationship. A relationship I thought was infallible.

“I’m quitting the Silver Stiletto. So you can stop following me,” I say to his chest.

He hums. “My parents will be happy.”

“So, you’re living with them now?”

In answer, he nods, his cheek brushing against the top of my head.

“Why would you do that? You love your house.”

“I did. I loved it when I thought it would be a home. Our home. Where we raised our children. Grew old together. Then you left, and it stopped being a home. It became a place where I made the biggest mistakes of my life. Just a house,” he whispers, his breath rustling the hair on the top of my head. “One I can do without.”

I pull back so I can look at him. “This…this whole day was your idea, wasn’t it?”

“Fucking Carter,” he mutters. “I didn’t want you to know.”

“Why?” I say, stepping back until his arms fall helplessly by his sides. “Why do you keep doing this?”

“Because I love you.”

“I know,” I cry out in frustration, wrapping my arms around myself. “But you hurt me, Ryan. And I don’t know how to get over that.” It’s a refrain I’m getting so sick and tired of saying. Of thinking. Of feeling.

“By taking it a step at a time. Look, I know I hurt you. It’s all I think of. But it’s done, and I can’t change it.” He throws his arms to the sides, his frustration mirroring mine. “All I can do is try to make up for it. Show you that I’m better than that.”

He lets out an explosive breath, jamming his hand through his hair. “All I’m asking for is a chance. Just one. Give us a chance to start over.” His throat bobs with the force of his swallow. “If you say no, I’ll never ask again.”

I’ll never ask again.

His promise hangs in the air between us, heavy and suffocating. Is that what I want? To put Ryan in my rearview mirror? To become casual acquaintances over time? Now that I don’t have anger and rage driving me, a spear of pain skewers my heart at the thought.

“And how do you propose we start over?” I ask carefully.

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