Bring Me Back(47)

“How can I be proud when all I want to do is scream?” I confess.

Ryder’s lips twitch. “Then scream if that’s what you want to do. Stand on the chair, lean your head back, and scream, Blaire.”

I pale. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” He stands up and scoots his chair back before standing on it. “Come on, Blaire,” he coaxes, “you want to scream? You scream. You want to cry? Then cry. And guess what? If you want to laugh, or smile, or be happy, you can do that too. Don’t hold yourself back from feeling whatever it is you need to feel.” He speaks with so much emotion, like he’s giving a speech to a room full of people and not me and a toddler. “Up,” he says, pointing at me. “I’ll stand here all day if I have to.” He sticks his hands on his hips and tips his head down at me.

After one more second of hesitation, I push my chair back and stand on it.

“Hey, Cole?” Ryder says, and the little boy angles his head up to his dad. “Wanna scream with us?”

“Yes!” The little boy smacks his fist against the highchair tray. “Scream!”

Ryder looks at me. “We’re ready when you are.”

“This is silly,” I say, still nervous.

“No, it’s not.” He shakes his head. “It’ll make you feel better and there’s nothing silly about that.”

I nod. He’s right. It will make me feel better.

I close my eyes, tilt my head back, and scream.

And it’s the greatest feeling in the world, like I’m emptying all the sadness and anger out of me. I scream and scream and scream. I’m aware of Ryder and Cole screaming with me, but it suddenly doesn’t matter. I no longer feel silly for screaming. It’s what I needed to do. When I finally stop, I lower my head and I smile—no, I grin—at Ryder. He smiles back.

Since we’ve stopped screaming, Cole does too, and he looks disgruntled, like he wants to keep going.

“Feel better?” Ryder asks me.

I smile and bite my lip. “Much better.” I step down off the chair and so does he. We both take a seat once more and it’s like the previous moments never happened. Ryder resumes eating his sandwich, I take a sip of my tea, and Cole throws a piece of muffin at Ryder. The chunk of muffin lands in Ryder’s hair.

Ryder’s dark eyes flit to me and with a straight face he says, “I want to laugh so bad right now, but if I do it’ll only encourage the demon.”

“Demon?” I laugh.

He shrugs with a grin. “I mean that with the utmost of fondness.” He reaches over and ruffles Cole’s dark hair.

“How long did it take you?” I ask him suddenly. “To … move on?”

He winces and presses his lips together so they’re nothing but a thin straight line. “I don’t know that I’ve ever truly moved on. I still miss Angela every day, but there’s not this aching, gaping wound in my chest anymore. I think I’ll always miss her and think about her, but maybe it’ll get to the point that it’s not every day and only occasionally—but I hope that’s not the case. I’m good now, great most days, but I don’t want to ever forget her.”

“How … never mind.” I shake my head and look away.

“How’d she die?” he asks for me. He flicks a dark piece of hair away from his eyes, waiting for me to answer.

“You don’t have to tell me.” My words are no more than a whisper.

“That question doesn’t bother me, not anymore, at least.” He shrugs and takes a sip of coffee before clearing his throat. “It was breast cancer,” he answers. “She was young to get such an aggressive form and she didn’t find out until she was four months pregnant.” He looks to Cole with a forlorn smile. “Her doctors wanted her to get an abortion, but she refused. She wouldn’t have given up this little guy for anything.” His smile grows and he reaches over, poking Cole’s cheek lightly. The little boy giggles in response and then looks at me shyly.

“And what about you?” I ask. “Did you … agree with her decision?”

“Honestly? No, not at first. It’s different for guys. We don’t have a child growing inside us, so we don’t feel that immediate bond. We argued a lot about it. We both knew she was giving up her life for our child’s by not undergoing treatment, and I constantly reminded her that she could get better and we’d have other children.” He sighs. “But Angela was stubborn, and she refused to do it. She wanted him no matter what. Watching her grow weaker and weaker through her pregnancy was hard. It was even harder watching her prepare the nursery and knowing she wasn’t going to be here to use it.” His eyes fill with unshed tears. “And then Cole was born and they placed him in my arms and I got it. I finally got it. I never questioned her decision after that. She died two weeks later, and even though she was so tired and weak, I think those were the happiest two weeks of her life.”

Ryder’s story crushes my already aching heart. He surprises me by not asking about how I lost Ben, but I’m even more surprised by the fact that I want to tell him. He understands the kind of heartache I feel and it’s nice to be able to talk to someone who gets it. I’m sick of being looked at with pity and being told, “I’m so sorry,” or “It’ll be okay.” Neither are things I want to hear right now.