Page 26 of Lost Without You

Chapter Eight

Ryan

My hands itched to take her face and make her look at me. Make her understand what she meant to me.

Her words drove daggers into my heart.

There was a real pain in the center of my chest, listening to her tell me how she wanted me to be happy, and how she wanted to be happy when I found my wife, and have my kids, and lived my life.

As if she were going to be a bystander.

If I couldn’t hold her face and make her focus on me, then I wanted to hold her hand, but even that seemed to be too many steps forward. I ought to take this at her pace.

But I’d been taking it at her pace and because of that, I enabled any and all negative self-talk she had.

Because of my bruised ego, I let her walk away. I let her put space between us.

It was time to fix that.

“Do you know the first thing I noticed about you?” I asked softly, my eyes locked on hers.

When she shook her head, I continued, “Your smile. You’d just moved basically across the country, but you were happy doing your thing. You were drawing on the driveway, smiling to yourself, absolutely content with yourself and the life you had. Where did she go? Where is that Savannah?”

She opened her mouth, but quickly closed it, averting her eyes at the same time. This time, I allowed myself to guide my hand to her face, and bring her attention back to me. “I’ll tell you where. She gets tucked away until you’re comfortable. Until everything around you is in the boxes and spaces that make you feel safe. Whenever your world started to crash around you, I knew that I could bring you back to her. I knew that I could bring my Savannah back. It gives a man, or even a boy back then, a sense of pride, to know he can do that for someone. It became my one goal in life. Make Savannah smile. Bring the light to her eyes. And for a long damn time, I was successful. But I made one giant mistake.”

Savannah shook her head. “No, you didn’t.”

“I did.” I brought my other hand up so I was framing her face. “That morning, I was riding a high.” I didn’t need to specify the morning. She knew. “And then you looked over at me and freaked. Told me it had been a mistake, that we’d been too drunk. But Savannah, I was with you one hundred percent that night. And if the blush on your cheeks is any indication, you remember as much of that night as I do.

“That night had been a long time coming. Drinking was an excuse. It was too dumb to try and broach the subject without an excuse, and when I brought you back to my place and kissed you, and you whispered that you wanted me...” I shook my head lightly, “It was like my entire world finally connected. The puzzle pieces that were there, finally connected. Savannah Slate, I have loved you since I was ten years old.”

Her brown eyes widened and her mouth dropped. When she brought her hands up to my wrists, I pushed on. “So that morning... After the best night of my life, you pushing away... God, Savannah, it was an ego thing. And I let you stay away because I was licking my own wounds, and then when we finally started to hang out again and you pretended like everything was cool, well, it killed me but I followed your lead.

“Ask me why I don’t drink,” I added, changing the subject abruptly.

Savannah swallowed hard before whispering the question that was seemingly left-field. “Why don’t you drink, Ryan?”

“Because without fail, I get drunk and I think of you. I remember that night. I remember you in my arms. I remember your taste, your body, your moans. Ask me why I wasn’t pissed at Mitch for signing me up for the show.”

Her voice still soft and unsure, she did as I asked. “Why weren’t you angry with him?”

“Because that week at the bar, you wouldn’t look at me but flirted with five different guys, including Jake.” Jake was another bartender that we worked with. One who happened to be happily married, but it had still stung. “You could work with him and be happy, but you couldn’t work with me and be happy.” I lowered my voice, the emotion stirring in my heart and gut making it increasingly harder to get the words out. “Ask me—”

“Why did you tell Bella no?” Savannah interrupted. Rather than be annoyed that she broke my train, I was so damn proud of her for finding her voice.

“Because Bella isn’t you.”

“But you told her—”

“I know what I told her. I heard you replaying the clip last night,” I confessed. That damn clip was the reason we were having this conversation.

She gasped lightly but I shook my head.

“I don’t know how to prove it to you, but Savannah, I was thinking of you. I know that’s a bullshit answer, and it makes me look like an ass, but I was trying to feel something for her. The further along I got in the show, the more I’d dream of you. The more I’d see you. If anything, being in that environment showed me that it’s you that I want. That I crave. That I need. But I did it because I thought that we were on different wave lengths. We didn’t want the same thing.

“Savannah, if you tell me that the most we can ever be is friends, now with everything out there, I will respect that. I will hate it, but I will respect it.” I shook my head slightly, “But I don’t think I can be a good friend, watching you marry the man of your dreams, because you are the woman of mine. I can’t be happy watching you have babies, because I want you to have my babies. So I’m pretty sure that makes me the terrible friend.”

Her mouth worked but words didn’t come out. She did, however, drop her hands from my wrists and I felt that loss as if she were stepping miles away.

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