Page 26 of Finding Home with You

“Thanks, Finn,” I say as I watch him gather his things and head for the front door.

“Tell Ryan,” he stresses as he pulls the front door closed behind him.

I sit for a second processing Finn’s words. Tell Ryan. How? How do I explain that I know what five hundred thousand dollars looks like in cash? That it will fit in a carry on suitcase and it takes at least twenty-four hours to withdraw that kind of money from a trust fund. Do I casually mention that I know what it sounds like when a gun is fired with a silencer on? That I heard it as child, but didn’t fully grasp what it was until it happened over and over.

I worry that telling him means my secret-filled head will constantly be at odds with his detective brain. What was once a normal relationship will turn into an interrogation. And in the end I’ll lose him anyway.

It’s then that I realize I haven’t heard from Ryan. I’m assuming he made it back to Boston safely, but it’s not like him not to text me. In the chaos of this mess with my dad and the process server and Finn sleeping over, I completely forgot.

I pick up my phone and hit Ryan’s name. The phone rings once and then goes directly to voicemail. I’m sure he’s just busy with work, so I leave a short message.

“Hey Ry, it’s me. Just checking to make sure you made it back okay. Give me a call or whatever when you get a chance.”

My day goes by quickly, which it normally does when you spend it with twenty, five year olds. It’s a great job to have when you need a distraction. There’s no stopping to think about anything but what is happening right in front of you.

As I’m pulling into my driveway my phone chimes with a text message and I realize I still haven’t heard from Ryan. I take my phone from my purse and find the message is from him, finally.

Ryan: Hey…sorry. Work is a fucking shit show right now. I haven’t slept in 36 hours.

Me: That’s ok. I figured you were busy, but you need to get some sleep!

Ryan: I know, I know. Call you tonight?

Me: Only if you have time. I’d rather you get some rest.

Nothing more comes after my last text message, and by ten p.m. I still haven’t heard from Ryan. I’m trying not to read too much into it, but it’s hard not to let my mind wander. Honestly my mind has been a fucking mess since that process server showed up, and now I’ve got Ryan’s lack of contact to add to my anxiety.

I pop a couple of sleeping pills and make sure my alarm is set before I climb into bed. I know without the drugs I won’t sleep, and I can’t bring myself to call Finn again and ask him to stay.

My phone goes off, chiming just as I begin to close my eyes and I see it’s Ryan, but his text is vaguely similar to the one he sent before.

Ryan: Still busy. Still tired. Talk later.

Me: Ok…I miss you. Xx

No response beyond that and I fall asleep quickly, dead to the world until six a.m. the next morning.

I check my phone as soon as I roll over, the sun just starting to rise as the light filters through the closed blinds.

There’s a text from Ryan that came through around three in the morning telling me that he’s home now and hoping to get a few hours of sleep before he has to head back to the station.

His job is very demanding, but even this seems more than normal. I remember when Beck and Kelsey were trying to figure out whether they’d be able to stay together with Beck living and working in Boston and the biggest issue was the unpredictability of his work schedule. That’s probably all this is, and I’m worrying about nothing.

Yet, as I’m about to get in the shower, I can’t stop thinking about the coldness in his text messages, about not hearing from him when he said he’d call.

I knew going into this that it would be difficult to maintain a relationship with him, and I’m probably just being stupid.

I shake it off and get in the shower. Ryan isn’t like other guys. He won’t fuck me over, and I tell myself that, as I get ready for my day. Maybe if I say it enough I’ll believe it.

I’m packing my lunch when my front door opens, assuming it’s Finn, I yell a quick, “hey” as I grab my things and make my way toward my car.

But it’s not Finn, it’s Ryan’s voice that echoes back, “hey” to me and I feel my face light up.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice high and overly excited as I throw my arms around him.

“Oww,” he says, as his body stiffens against me and that’s when I notice his shirt sleeve rolled up and the white gauze bandage.

“Ryan, what the hell happened?”

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