Page 36 of Pulled Away

“Don’t say that. Look,” he says, leaning forward, bracing his arms on his legs. “I want to explain to you why I didn’t tell you about being married.”

Crossing my arms across my chest, I glare at him. I suppose getting some answers would be nice, but I don’t know, a part of me is thinking it might be a bit too late.

“I told you Hadley was never close to her parents. That was an understatement. They simply didn’t want her. There was never physical abuse or anything like that…”

His voice trails off, and the glazed look in his eyes shows me he’s seeing something in the past. His voice drops when he continues. “As horrible as it sounds, sometimes, I think that might have been better. At least then there would have been a reason to take her away from them. Give her a chance to have a family that cared for her. Instead, she grew up invisible.

“They were wealthy. A string of nannies raised her. Birthdays, Christmas, school plays—they were never there for her. Can you imagine what growing up like that must do to a person? To want for nothing that money can buy, but to grow up without love?”

I truly can’t. What we lacked, my parents made up for with love. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I remember a play our class did in first grade,” he continues. “The audience was packed with parents supporting their children. Not hers. She stood there, alone, all stoic and shit, while being surrounded by an ocean of smiling faces. She tried to hide it, but I could see the hurt in her eyes. For a child of that young to know how unwanted they are is a crime.”

He looks at me with anguish in his eyes. “I couldn’t get her expression out of my mind, so I befriended her. We got closer, and she started spending a lot of time at my house. My parents knew what was going on, but their hands were tied, so they did what they could. They embraced her with open arms.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “Anyway, that’s how we became friends. After graduation, we went to the same college. We were far away from home, all our friends were at different colleges. Being away from her toxic situation was good for her. I think, for the first time in her life, she was truly happy. She bloomed. It was our first taste of freedom, and we took advantage of it. We partied but studied hard as well. I think…I think Hadley was still trying to prove herself to her parents. Thinking if she became successful, they’d finally acknowledge her.

“Then, in our final year, her mom died. It hit her hard. And I guess, with how much time we were spending together and how she leaned on me emotionally, lines became blurred, and I confused friendship with love. One thing led to another, and we became intimate.”

He needs to stop. I don’t want to hear anymore. I don’t want him to make Hadley human, and I certainly don’t want to hear about the two of them. It hurts too much.

He continues, oblivious to my internal turmoil.

“I just wanted to show her she was loved. That she was important to someone. We got married at the courthouse. No one knew but Benjamin and Nicole. I knew my parents wouldn’t approve because we were so young. And I knew their disapproval would hurt Hadley, so I kept it a secret.”

He sighs again, running his hand through his hair.

“It didn’t take me long to realize I had made a mistake. That I mistook friendship for love. I didn’t love her the way a man was supposed to love a woman, so I began to distance myself in certain aspects of our relationship.”

“You stopped sleeping with her.”

He nods without meeting my eyes.

“The situation needed to be addressed because if I let it continue, it would have destroyed our friendship. I agonized for months over how to approach it, but Hadley had noticed the growing distance and confronted me.

“I told her we had made a mistake. That we should have remained friends. She was very understanding, and she agreed with me. So we got a divorce. Anyway, she got an offer for a job in London after college and accepted it. Her reasoning was that our lives were too intertwined. We were too dependent on each other. We needed space apart to live our lives.” He shrugs. “And that’s it. I went over there twice to go visit, but eventually, we grew apart.”

I want to scoff at that. From what it sounds like, Hadley depended on Ryan for everything, and Ryan was just too willing to be there for her. Neither time nor distance has changed that. He’s still the knight in shining armor, rushing in on his horse to rescue the damsel in distress.

“Did you have sex with her during those visits?”

“No. That aspect of our relationship lasted about a month at most.”

“And she never came back here?”

He shakes his head. “She said it was too painful. Even after the death of her mother, her dad never changed his attitude towards her. I think it finally sunk in that they never loved her, and never would.”

“Aspen.” He stands up and takes a step towards me. “I’m stupidly in love with you. Not telling you wasn’t done out of maliciousness. I did it out of fear. Who wants to admit that they’re a divorcee by the age of twenty-three? I didn’t want you looking at me differently.”

I sigh, turning my back to him. Their relationship is one huge red flag, and I’m not sure I would have gotten involved with him if I had known this beforehand. Not because he’s divorced, but because of their convoluted relationship. They talk about guys being Mamma’s boys. What do you call this?

“This is a lot, Ryan. Everyone has a past, and it wouldn’t even have occurred to me to hold the fact that you were married against you. A lot of things make sense to me now.”

And instead of being relieved, I feel hollow. They have a lifelong bond. One I can’t compete against. One I don’t want to compete against because I shouldn’t have to compete for the time and attention of the man who says he loves me. I shouldn’t have to accept lies. Even if he thinks his reason is valid, it’s still a lie. I shouldn’t have to accept being shoved aside for someone else.

I shouldn’t have to accept second place and not being a priority. The bond my parents shared was magical, and I’ve always aspired to find that for myself. This is not it.

“It does?” he asks, the hope in his voice threatening to buckle my knees.

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