Page 75 of Last Love

Whether it’s the point I’m making or the gentleness of my tone that gets through to him is unknown. Whichever it is, however, has him releasing my other half.

Stepping back.

“You will never be good enough for my fucking sister,” Gabe venomously spews.

Ry quietly agrees, “I know.”

There’s a small stretch of silence that’s followed by an irritated headshake and abrupt turning away of my brother.

Dad releases a heavy, exasperated exhale. “Sorry about that, Ryder. He should’ve never done that. He should’ve-”

“No, Mr. Morrison,” my boyfriend interrupts. “He should’ve. He should’ve done a helluva lot more than he did.”

“Ryder-”

“I hurt your daughter, and I understand I have to put in the work with all of you, the same as I do with her. I accept this. And it is something I am committed to doing.”

My father offers him a genuine grin.

Ry’s voice is gruff and familiarly shaky. “Do you uh…mind if I step outside for a moment to get some air?”

“Not at all,” he warmly insists, gesturing to the patio door.

Instead of making eye contact with me, he merely nods, takes the few steps over, and disappears outside.

An undeniable ache increases in my chest as an insatiable desire for something soft and from the bread family spins across my tongue.

The urge to swallow down the feelings is prevalent, yet the push to speak my mind is somehow stronger.

I have to stop eating my emotions.

And I have to be willing to stand up for those I love.

And if Ry could find the courage to come back here, confess his struggle, and swear to do better, the very least I can do is stay true to my own self proclamations.

Dad slowly nods at me as though having read every word in my mind.

On a deep breath, I march into the kitchen where Gabe is preparing to pour himself a glass of wine and demand his attention with a throat clearing. The second I have his stare, I firmly state, “Look, Gabe, you are my brother, and I love you. And your support is something I cherish, but your approval is not something I require.”

“Pres-”

“I am not done,” I savagely chomp causing him to slam his mouth shut. “Now, I understand where you are coming from when it comes to Ry. I really do. However, you need to understand what it is him and I both do, which is we were young the first time we tried to make this shit work. We were reckless. We were in some ways clueless and in other ways simply naïve. We both made mistakes, and we’ve learned from them. Most importantly, we are not the same people we were ten years ago, and I will not stand here and let you berate him anymore for a person he no longer is. You don’t wanna be around him? Fine. Go home.”

His mouth cracks open in shock.

“You don’t ever wanna be around him because you can’t wrap your mind around people changing and growing and becoming better? Then fine. We will figure out a way for me to see you and your family without him. But hear me, and hear me fucking now, you will not see your future nieces or nephews unless you’re willing to see him too.” Gasps echo around the kitchen prompting me to add, “I’m not pregnant now.”

A collective sigh is given.

“But when it happens…,” my gaze bores into Gabe’s, “it’s gonna be with him.”

I spin on my heels to head for my purse right as my mom fusses, “Gabriel Luther I hope you know you are not too old to have me tan that backside for behaving like this…on your sister’s birthday of all days!”

Antonio sassily hums his agreement.

It doesn’t take long to snag a Jolly Rancher from my purse and slip outside to where my boyfriend is sitting on the back porch steps, legs bent, head buried in his folded arms. I settle beside in silence at first, unsure of what to say.

What not to say.

Really how to say anything.

Soft whispering from somewhere deep in my soul guides my fingers to trail up the nape of his neck and into his hair.

The first gentle tug noticeably releases his tight shoulders.

The next receives a low, audible hum of gratitude.

And the last…the last lifts his head just enough for me to press my mouth against his.

Our lips spread in tandem, tongues anxious to apologize to one another for different things. His attempts to roll around slowly, tenderly while mine rejects the gentle behavior by whipping around wildly and madly until he’s left with no choice but to try to capture it. The harder he works to trap my feverishly moving muscle, the more forceful his strokes become, and the tension I know is being released.

When I abruptly pull back on a nip of his bottom lip, I tease, “I’ll give you a stronger dose when we get home.” Flashing him the hard candy precedes my next statement. “Use this for now.”

He lightly chuckles and takes the wrapped treat.

Uncomfortable silence attempts to come between us pushing me to quietly proclaim, “I don’t care what anyone thinks, Ry. I love you. You’re it for me.”

The corner of his lip does it’s best to reach for the stars. “Pres-”

“No.” I plant a loving hand on his bent arm. “We’re not doing this shit again. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. What matters in this relationship is you and me. Got it?”

Ry momentarily glances away prior to asking, “Did you really try to commit suicide during our breakup?”

More cravings to muzzle myself occur; however, I force myself to fight against them just as my boyfriend is fighting his own demons. “Once.”

His entire body seems to dissolve into itself. “Pres-”

“You had your way of dealing with shit, and I had mine. Usually it was food, but there was one moment in time when that wasn’t enough.”

“I never…,” he quietly croaks, voice unable to finish the sentence. “I…”

“I know.” My thumb gives his arm a gentle stroke. “And it wasn’t your fault. I made that choice. I chose to deal with pain that way. I continued to be in pain rather than ask for help because I was a young girl feeling heartbroken and powerless. We both made mistakes back then, and we have both become better people in spite of them now.”

Ry nods in agreement as he begins to unwrap his candy. “I don’t know that I could’ve gone on had that happened. Had you…,” there’s an uncomfortable shifting of his frame, “killed yourself.” He wedges the candy into his mouth. “Probably would’ve been some Romeo and Juliet shit.”

“You know that story is not nearly as romantic as they make it out to be,” I playfully poke, successfully lightening the mood.

“You just say that because you think Shakespeare is a hack.”

“He is a hack. That shit was a bunch of toilet humor we warped into believing is classic. Do your homework.”

“Fuck, I can’t believe I’m probably gonna have actual homework again soon,” my boyfriend lightly laughs.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll make studying even more fun than I used to.”

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