Page 84 of Pulled Away

“How have you been doing?”

She puts down the list and takes her glasses off, pinning me with a no-nonsense look. I was nervous to disclose that I took a second job, but felt that I owed her a heads-up. She was concerned that I was over-extending myself, but other than that, she had no problem with it. I’ve made sure that my work at the clinic hasn’t suffered from it.

Before I can answer, Piper walks in, carrying a riot of blue, pink, and white flowers arranged into a massive bouquet.

“These came for you.”

Things have been a bit awkward between us since our conversation after Frosty’s. They asked me to trust them, and after I had time to think, I have to admit that honestly, I do, but it doesn’t change the fact that I know they’re keeping a secret from me. I don’t know how to feel about that.

“You can put them on the desk for now,” Julia says.

“It came with a card.” I bite back my squeak of surprise when Piper hands me the card. I thought they were for Julia.

Then it dawns on me. Ryan. The ass. I still haven’t forgiven him for scaring me like that. I was so freaked out that I could hardly sleep and spent Saturday moping around my place. It didn’t help that there was no message waiting for me when I woke up that morning, and the next, and I like to pretend to myself that it didn’t leave me feeling hollow. Angry, but hollow. Isn’t that what I’ve been asking him to do? To leave me alone?

“Can I ask you something?” I ask when Piper leaves. I need advice, and I can’t talk to Mom, but she considered Julia a very close friend, so she’s the next best thing. Curiosity is scratching at my brain, demanding I read the card, but it will have to wait till I’m alone.

“You know you can.”

“You and Mom were friends for years.” At her nod, I continue. “What were Mom and Dad like when they started dating?”

Leaning back in her chair, her face takes on a faraway look. “It was like fireworks on the Fourth of July.” She chuckles, but it’s a sad chuckle.

“Really?” I ask, swallowing past the lump in my throat.

“Really. Soap opera-worthy at times. Plenty of ups and downs, break-ups, and make-ups.”

My eyes widen. Well, color me surprised. This was the last thing I was expecting to hear. “Not once did I see them fight. I thought their relationship was perfect.”

She sighs. “There’s no such thing as a perfect relationship. It would be a lot easier if there was, but life isn’t a fairytale, Aspen. They had their issues, but the true beauty of their relationship was that they loved each other enough to fight for it. To not give up. By the time they got married, they’d managed to sand each other’s square pegs into round ones. But make no mistake, they still had their issues.”

“Do you think that’s what I’m doing? Giving up?”

“I’m not going to answer that. I get that you compare all relationships to theirs, but not all relationships are the same. Not all people are the same. Everyone makes mistakes, Aspen. It’s up to you to decide if it’s a mistake you can forgive.”

Julia’s words roll around in my head as I walk to the storeroom, Ryan’s card clutched in my hand. Can I forgive Ryan? The better question is, can I trust Ryan again? I know forgiving someone is a decision, and if I look past what happened with Hadley and focus on the positives—the qualities he has that made me fall in love with him, the amazing relationship we had before Hadley—it should be easy. But it’s not. Hadley’s scheming was the first big test our relationship faced, and he failed spectacularly.

Forgiving him and moving forward will only work if I let that go, and I don’t know how. Ripping open the card, I brace myself for his words.

Aspen

I’m so sorry I scared you. That wasn’t my intention, but it seems no matter how good my intentions are, I just keep messing up. So, just add this sorry to all the other things I need to atone for.

I know you don’t want to hear it, but I love you, and worrying for your safety comes as naturally to me as breathing.

Please don’t ask me not to breathe.

Yours, always.

Ryan

PS I would appreciate it if you didn’t report me to the cops.

I frown. Report him? For following me? The thought didn’t even enter my mind. And after the fright he gave me, it’s more likely that I’d be the one being reported to the cops for manslaughter.

Tucking the card in my coat pocket, I walk back to reception. No matter my inner turmoil, as they say, the show must go on.

“Pretty flowers,” Piper says, as I pick up a file. “They must have cost a fortune,” she continues when I nod.

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