Page 82 of Something to Someone

He peered over my shoulder at the page the book was opened to and tried to stifle his laughter with a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, but that Halloween was great.”

We looked ridiculous, but it was one of my favorite memories. I was Britney Spears, of course, and Daniel was the Joker. I’d thrown together my costume at the last minute, and by the end of the night, Daniel had sweated off his makeup, but neither of us cared about how we looked.

My dad flipped the page with a nod of approval from me, and we reminisced about each photo and memory. When I’d made the book, I never would have thought I’d be sitting there with my dad sifting through the pages.

It was supposed to be Daniel.

“I remember when you started this,” my dad began. “Your mom cried herself to sleep that night.”

My shock must have been written on my face. “I know, it’s hard to believe. She acts…well, she acts the way she does, but when you were in so much pain, we were right there with you.”

I shook my head and looked away.

“I know that what happened with Daniel, and then what happened after?—”

“Yeah,” I hurriedly said. More memories I didn’t want to be reminded of right then. Reminiscing about one relationship was enough for me.

He squeezed my knee, and I looked down at his hand. “All I’m saying is that whoever it is, they’re lucky to have you.”

I jerked my head up and closed the scrapbook, setting it down on the bed and sliding off the edge. I surveyed the mess I’d made and began putting everything back the way I found it.

“Why do you think this is about…someone?”

He snorted derisively and handed me a stack of photos I rearranged in an envelope. “Peanut, it’s hard not to notice. You’ve been distracted more than usual, smiling at your phone, and your reactions to your mom’s questions about your love life has…changed.”

“What do you mean? They haven’t changed.”

“Sure, I guess. You just don’t react at all anymore. You used to get defensive, and rightfully frustrated. Now, you just don’t say anything at all.” I stopped with the jersey in my hands and considered what my dad was saying. I hadn’t seen my mom much since Ryder and I had started sleeping together, but when I did, she’d continued her usual questioning of my life choices and lack of partner.

I didn’t think my reactions had changed, though.

“Either way, I’m happy for you as long as you’re happy,” he said as he stood.

“That’s if I haven’t fucked it all up beyond repair.” Even mumbling under my breath, my dad heard my admission.

He stopped, and I watched as he contemplated whether he wanted to respond or leave it be. Then he made his decision that he couldn’t ignore it.

“You never know unless you try,” he said with a shrug. “You’re the most determined person I know. If you want to fix it, you will.”

Simple. He made it sound so simple, yet it was anything but. He kissed me on the forehead, patted my arm, and turned like he was going to leave the room. But he hesitated, glancing back at me with concern.

“I promise I’m okay,” I said, knowing exactly what he wanted to know. “At least, I think I will be.”

He nodded once, approving of my response enough to leave the room. I examined the contents still strewn across the bed and put everything back besides the scrapbook. That, I took with me.

I returned everything to its rightful place and even fixed the bed, so maybe only my father would know I’d been there. Rounding the bed, I caught sight of my appearance in the mirror above the dresser. I looked as rotten as I felt. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d left the house looking like that, but I’d spent the past few days feeling like the worst person in the world, so at least the inside matched the outside.

The moment I’d walked away from Ryder, I knew it was a mistake. Probably the biggest mistake I was going to make if I had kept going. So, I stopped. Whether I wanted to or not, my body physically wasn’t going to allow me to move forward. And for once, my heart, my brain, my body, were all in agreement—walking away was not an option.

I’d been resigned when I’d left him then felt this sudden anger that he’d disrupted my entire life. He was too good, and it fucked everything up. Without his interference, I would have gone on living my life without the emotions filling up the bottomless pit in my stomach.

He’d entered my life and irrevocably changed it. I just had to get my mind right enough to accept it. Which was why I was standing in my childhood bedroom, clutching the scrapbook I made for my dead ex-boyfriend.

I had things to work through before I could move forward. Mental barriers that seemed impenetrable until Ryder started knocking them down. Quietly at first and without my knowing, until he had crumbled each and every one. Until he made me realize what lay on the other side might be worth it.

That not everyone left, and I could trust him.

Going the rest of the wedding weekend without speaking to him or trying to ignore his watchful gaze was nearly impossible. It felt like walking around with my heart on the outside of my body. But I needed that time to think. And he’d been as patient as I’d asked which I knew had to be killing him.

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