Ryder sits quietly for a moment, his eyes jumping around mine. “When was this?” he asks.
“About three weeks ago. Everything was good, then I stopped hearing from him. For over a week he ignored me. So, I went to confront him and see what was going on. He told me to leave, that it was over. That was last week. Remember when I came home and you thought something was wrong?” He nods, dropping his eyes to his hands. “That's when he broke it off.”
“So a few weeks back he just stopped talking to you?” His eyes are moving between his hands, his voice almost sheepish.
“Yeah.”
“Oh.” He says it as if he knows something I don't.
“What, Ryder? What is it?”
“I'm not sure if this has anything to do with it, but I ran into Branson at the bar about the same time. . .” His voice fades out as his eyes slowly lift to mine.
“What did you do?”
“I might have told him to back off and leave you alone.”
“You what?” I say loudly, my jaw dropping open. “Why? Why would you do that?”
“Mel, it's just that with his age and his history, I thought he was bad news. I mean, he's ten years older than you—”
“So? Who the hell cares, Ryder? Dad was almost ten years older than Mom and they were happy together.”
“Well those were different times, and honestly, I forgot about that.”
“You forgot about that? Different times? How convenient that rules should be different for me. You had no right to meddle in my life, Ryder!” Jumping up from my seat, I press my palms into the table and lean closer to him. “You can't keep doing this. I'm not a little kid anymore, I don't need you to protect me!”
“I'm sorry, Mel. You're right. I need to back off. Maybe I'm not what set this off, but if I am, I'm really, really sorry.”
Dropping back down into the chair, I rest my head in my hand. “It's doesn't matter now, it's over anyway.”
I'm so hurt over the breakup, I'm not even really mad at Ryder. I should be super pissed at what he did, but I know deep down he thought what he was doing was right. And who knows what role Ryder played in all this. Branson wouldn't give me an answer, so his reasons are still a mystery.
The room is quiet. I can hear the blood pumping between my ears as I stare at the table. There isn't anything else to say. Ryder knows now, he got what he wanted all along.
“Were you happy?”
“What?” I ask, letting my eyes drift up to his.
“Were you happy with him?”
“It doesn't matter. You got what you wanted didn't you? He's staying away from me.”
“That's not an answer. I asked you if you were happy?”
“Yeah, I was.” Fiddling with a thread on the tablecloth, I shrug a shoulder. “But what does it matter now?”
“You said I wouldn't understand, but I do. I felt the same way about Jenna. I know the pain.”
He's right. I remember my brother the day after Jenna just vanished to the city. He walked around in a daze for months. And then that hurt turned to anger, and he wasn't the same.
“Yeah, I guess you do know what I'm feeling.”
“Look,” he says, reaching across the table and squeezing my hand, “if you really like this guy, and he makes you happy, I support you. All the rumors floating around out there might not even be true. Who am I to judge?”
“Are you serious?”
“I am.” He smiles. “Do what makes you happy, Mel.” The doorbell rings, and his eyes light up. “But first, you and I need to demolish this pizza.”
Smiling at him, I feel emboldened. I should do what makes me happy, and if Branson makes me happy, why should I just give up?
It's easy to walk away and not try, but you never get what you want in life by waiting for it. I need to tell him how I truly feel. I need to tell him exactly what he does to me. How he makes my heart explode and my body go up in flames.
Bran needs to know that good things in life don't always come easy, but I'm willing to take a chance if he is.
Maybe my brother did scare him away. Or maybe he got scared himself, deciding it was easier to let me go than to face what he's feeling too.
All I know is that I'm not ready to give up on us.
I want the truth, but I want him more.
13
Branson
The fire flickers in the darkness, lighting up the very edge of the tree line. Hot sparks float up like tiny sky lanterns, disappearing as they slip into the blackness above. It's chilly out, but the fire creates enough warmth to heat my face.