Page 18 of The Restoration Program
Huffing, she laid her head down and stared at the ceiling. The more silence took hold of the room, the louder it became. The air conditioner rattled like a dying engine. Outside, the cars zooming by sounded more like passing trains. Every commonplace noise taunted her size, reminding her that she was small enough to sleep on a nightstand with room to spare.
It all mingled with the sound of Ryan’s gradually steadying breaths. He must have been truly tired, since it normally took him a while before he settled in for good. When Nicole closed her eyes, all she could picture was the tiredness on his face. He looked like he hadn’t so much as dozed off in the past few days while waiting for her NüPrint body to be constructed and her consciousness to be transferred.
“Nicki?” His voice startled her, but she didn’t move, didn’t answer.
She sensed why he was calling to her—she felt the same yearning ache that tinged his voice. They were too far away from each other. There was plenty of room on the bed, he would reason. Plenty of space for her to stay safe and secure, butclose.
“Nicki?” he tried again, softer.
She pretended to sleep, knowing she would give in if she allowed him to invite her.
A long beat of silence.
He sighed, and that was the end of that.
Her throat grew tight, tears leaking from her closed eyes as she gripped fistfuls of her duvet. His exhausted, guilt-ridden face remained a permanent fixture in her thoughts as she tried to sleep.
He had been waiting for her to come home. And now that she was there, she was still out of his reach.
DAY FOUR
“Keep or toss?” Ryan asked.
Nicole glanced up from the wide-neck sweater she was holding up against herself. The cushion she stood on was the size of what her bedroomusedto be. Ryan sat on the other side of the sofa, but she had to crane her neck as though trying to converse with someone on a third-story balcony.
She took one look at the gown he had pinched in his hands and sneered. “Toss.”
“Really? It’s kinda pretty.”
He held the dress up to the light. It was more detailed than most of the simple shirts and jeans the Restoration Facility had provided, with off-the-shoulder sleeves and gold-threaded accents that glittered with every shift of the fabric.
“That thing’s ajoke,” she said, angrily folding the sweater in her lap. “I don’t know why the Program bothered to put anything formal in. It’s not like I’m going to be getting invited to any charity dinners now that I’m…” She trailed off and busied herself by grabbing the next article of clothing within reach.
Ryan’s gaze rested heavily on her, but she didn’t look up to meet his disappointment. It was still gut-wrenching to see him from such a low angle all the time, though she didn’t have the heart to tell him. Not when he was trying so hard. Her insistence to continue to use the carrying tray already spoke volumes, and she knew her constant distrust of physical contact was wearing on him.
It chilled her that she didn’t even need to glance up again to perceive that he was folding up the dress. His movements, even the most unassuming ones, were overwhelmingly easy to track.
He sighed. “It’s just… The toss pile is getting steep. You have to wearsomething, you know. It’s not like we can just go to the mall and buy you more.”
“Fuck, Ry, you think I don’t know that?” The snap in her voice surprised them both. She forced herself to look up, immediately unsettled to see someone so massive lookhurt. “I’m sorry,” she said, softening her pinched expression. “I’m really sorry, I know you didn’t mean it that way. This is a lot to get used to. A lot to wrap my head around.”
“You’re doing better than yesterday,” Ryan said. “Being out here, going through all this stuff with me… That’s progress.”
Yesterday hung over her head like a nightmare she couldn’t shake. Waking up had been the worst—the cold realization that none of it had been a dream. She’d spent most of the day in bed, sobbing on and off, begging for Ryan to give her space. When he’d come to check on her, it was a toss-up of whether she’d whimper for him to stay or snap him right back out the door. He’d coaxed a few sips of water and bites of food into her. It wasn’t until the evening when she finally stepped aboard the tray and allowed herself to be transported out of the bedroom for dinner. When she saw that Ryan had started sorting through the boxes on his own, she swore she’d make an effort to help the next day.
She hastily swiped tears from her eyes and reconsidered the dress still clutched between Ryan’s fingers. “Let’s put it in themaybepile, okay?” she said.
“Sure.” He sounded marginally appeased.
She wished she could erase the tension in the air. Perhaps to avoid another snap from her, he went around the unsorted clothing and selected a NüPrint tee from theyespile between them and put it on a hanger. Everything looked so little in his hands, like doll clothes. It would have been a hilarious sight ifshewasn’t the doll in question.
Nicole chewed her lip, sneaking furtive glances as Ryan worked in silence. It was so much easier to look at him when his overwhelming gaze wasn’t aimed at her. Exhaustion still had a hold on his features, and she wasn’t making the adjustment any easier.
He was sittingright there. She only had to crawl a short way to put her hand on his leg and offer a comforting touch. Easy. Simple. Yet, her entire body seized at the thought of approaching him. He was Ryan, and yet hewasn’t.
Steeling herself, she rose to her feet. Ryan was hunched over a small pair of jeans now. She waddled closer, crossing over to his cushion. She gave particular care to where his weight sank into the couch. He peered down—always keenly aware of her exact position these days—and she locked up. In turn, he went very still for her. They’d agreed that it might take her weeks to get comfortable with physical contact, but he was terrible at masking his hope that she would change her mind and come running into his hands, letting him cradle her close.
Nicole stretched her hand over his leg, wavering just short of contact. “Listen, I…”
