The Problem with Forever(122)

“Mallory—”

“And you’re doing it to us! You’re giving up on us before we even get started. And worse yet, you’re using me as an excuse. You’re going to do what you always did—protect me when you shouldn’t have.”

“This isn’t like before,” he stated quietly.

“Yes. Yes it is. You have no sense of self-preservation.” I took a step toward him, but stopped. If I got close enough, I might beat him with a throw pillow. “I always thought you had taken on this role as a knight in shining armor, but I was wrong. You’re just a martyr.”

He looked like I had picked up a throw pillow and beaten him with it.

“What is it with you, Rider? You are so freaking smart and so damn talented, but you—you—” I raised my hand and pointed at him “—you don’t try, and the moment something becomes hard, you run. You give up. That wasn’t the Rider I knew growing up. You were a fighter back then, but when it matters most, like with your damn life, you just give up.”

“I don’t...”

“You do.” Tears clawed their way up the back of my throat as I stared at him. God, this wasn’t fair. This was so damn unfair. “I sat in this kitchen yesterday and I told Rosa that I loved you. I told her not to tell me how I felt and begged her to give you a chance. She promised that she would. And now you’re standing here telling me that what you have isn’t real. You can’t just say that about your foster home. It’s also about me—about us. You’re saying what we had was never real.”

Rider grimaced as he closed his eyes.

I sucked in a shaky breath. “Did you ever fill out those SAT forms I picked up for you?”

He didn’t answer.

“Did you?”

“No,” he whispered.

My heart shattered. “The boy that you keep painting—the one at the warehouse and at the art gallery? That boy is you, isn’t it?”

Rider didn’t say anything.

“It’s not you from the past,” I whispered. His handsome face blurred. “That’s still who you are.”

He closed his eyes.

“And you know what? This whole time I’ve thought I was the one who was messed up. That I was the one who walked away from that damn house damaged and screwed up. I thought it was me.” My voice broke as I backed away. “And it wasn’t. It was you. It’s always been you.”

His gaze rose to mine and the pain in his eyes was a punch to the gut, because he was doing this to himself. And God, that hurt more than anything else. This was on him. Not me.

It was always on him.

He put that weight on his shoulders; he found guilt and responsibility wherever he could and he hugged that mess close. This wasn’t me giving up on him. This was always him giving up on himself. It struck me then, and it took everything to swallow down the sob.

“You’re stuck,” I whispered.

Rider stiffened.

“It’s true.” I smoothed my hands over my hips. “You’ve had years—eighteen years of feeling this way. No conversation is going to undo years of feeling like you’re nothing, of ignoring all those around you telling you that you do matter. The Lunas couldn’t fix that. Oh my God, I can’t undo that. I can’t fix that. I would’ve tried—” My breath caught again. “I would’ve tried, because I love you, I love you so very much, but you have to be the one to change it. Not me.”

“Mallory.” He stood and took a step toward me.

“No.” I held my hand up and tried not to see how it shook. “You—you need to leave.”

He blanched. “I’m—”

“Please. Just leave. Go.” I could feel my face start to crumple. “There is nothing else I can say. Go.”

Rider hesitated, and for a sweet, hopeful second, I thought he was going to ignore me. I thought that maybe something I said reached him, triggered something in him and he was going to fight for us, for him.

But he didn’t.

He turned and walked toward the door, and in a daze, I followed him. I wanted to keep following him. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted him to see what I saw in him, what I knew Rosa and Carl would see if given the chance. But I didn’t, because how in the world could I fight for him when he wouldn’t even fight for himself?

So I did what I never thought I would.

I closed the door on Rider.





Chapter 36

My chest was a hollow, empty shell.

Okay, maybe I’m overreacting a tad, I thought as I stared at the ceiling of my bedroom. But that was how it felt since I’d closed the door on Rider yesterday. I’d holed myself in the room. I didn’t go to school Wednesday. Lame, but I just couldn’t do it.

The last couple of days had been too much. Every high and every low that could happen had been experienced. Love. Loss. Love. Loss again.

I needed a break. I needed quiet time. So I took it.

That was something I’d learned from my time with Dr. Taft. When things got overwhelming, when you were stressed and stretched too thin, it was time to take a breather. He was all about mental health days. I remembered him ranting once about how if someone coughed, they were given time off from work, but if someone was mentally fatigued, they were expected to suck it up.