FADING (A novel)(90)

“Babe, please don’t hide from me.”

Trying to take in some air through my cries, I choke on my breath, and when I do, he pulls me close, and I just fall into him. His arms are so tight around me, and I know it’s only him.

I don’t know what I was thinking not taking my pills anymore. How could I be so stupid to think I was strong enough to be okay without them? Now I’m consumed with worry and dread. What the hell is Ryan going to do or say? What am I going to do or say? What do I do?

God, what do I do?

I’m curled up tight in Ryan’s lap, and he is stroking my hair with his fingers. I’m so embarrassed. But, he doesn’t give me a choice from eluding this when he leans back to look at me.

Closing my eyes, he says, “You have to look at me. Please.”

When I feel the heat of his hands on my face, I blink my eyes open and slowly shift my eyes to him. His expression is worried as he scans my face.

“You okay?”

I nod my head.

“What happened?”

I drop my head and rest it on his chest as he rubs my back. I just want to hide and not have to look at him.

With hesitation, I ask, “Can you please call Jase?”

“What?” he says in disbelief, and I don’t blame him. “Shit, Candace, no.”

A new round of tears begin to flow, and I hear the desperation in my voice when I urge, “Please.”

“Candace, no. You can’t always run to him. Need me for change. Talk to me.”

“I can’t,” I cry out.

“Yes, you can.”

“No, I can’t. Please. I just can’t”

“But you can with Jase?”

I’m sobbing now, but Ryan never lets go of me.

“I want you to need me,” he says.

“I do.”

“You don’t; you cling to him for everything.” He takes my hands and presses them against his bare chest, over his heart. “Look at me,” he demands, and when I do, he tells me, “Cling to me. Love me enough to need me.”

“I can’t . . . I . . .”

“Why?”

I know he’s not going to drop this, and I begin to get angry. Angry that I’m even in this position right now.

“Because, you’d leave me.”

“Not happening, babe.”

“Ryan, please,” I plead.

“I’m not leaving you. Nothing you could say would make me want to leave you.”

“I’m just too f*cked up.”

“We’re all f*cked up,” he says. “I want you to let me in.”

I know there is no way out of this. But how? How do I do this?

He grabs my hands again when I try to cover my face as my cries quake through me.

“I can’t! You’ll never look at me the same. You’ll run away.”

When I say this, he slides his hand around the back of my head and pulls me against him as he sighs out. I cry in his chest as he says, “I promise you, nothing will change the way I look at you. Nothing will change what you do to me when you’re next to me. You make my heart beat in a completely different way—nothing will ever change that.”

I finally wrap my arms around him, hanging on with everything I have. “I’m so embarrassed,” I confess around my cries.

“God, babe.” I can hear the pain in his voice. “Please, don’t be.”

I have never said the words. Not ever. Not to anyone. Not even to myself. Maybe I foolishly thought if I didn’t say it, then maybe it wasn’t really real.

When he strengthens his hold on me, I let it out on a whimper, “I was raped.”

Releasing a heavy sigh, he lays his head on top of mine, and I continue to cry. I feel so weak and tired, like I’m drowning. I keep treading water, but I can never seem to get my head high enough out of the water to take in a full breath of air. I’ve been drowning since that night. There are times I feel like I can make it, but then I’m pulled right back under.

Ryan says nothing as we sit here on the floor. I feel guilty for the lies and mistruths I’ve told him to try and hide this. When my sobs soften into whimpers, I speak.

“I’ve been lying to you,” I say quietly.

“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.”

“I feel horrible.”

“Candace, don’t do this. You have every right to lie.”

But I need to tell him.

“I can’t go to see you at work because . . .”

“Shhh . . .”

“Because it happened in your parking lot. By the dumpster. That’s why I freaked out. I didn’t know where I was until I saw the dumpster.”

When I tell him this, I feel a breath thud in his chest. I loosen my hold and pull back. I break when I see the tears streaming down his cheeks. Looking into his eyes, as the tears begin to fall from mine again, I cry, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t ever f*ckin’ say that again. Don’t ever be sorry for anything again.”

“I’m just so far from what you thought.”

“You’re not.”

“I am. Every day is a struggle. Everything. I’m scared every day.” I drop my head for a moment, and when I look back up at him, I finally admit what I’ve been feeling for the past six months. Ever since that night, the night Jack left me broken and desperate. The night he took everything from me: my trust, my peace, my security, my faith—my light. He took it all and left me with nothing.