Page 91 of Just Forever

He looks at me, all imploring eyes and anxiety, and I don’t understand what he’s saying or why he looks so guilty.

He shouldn’t.

Ishould.

He shouldn’t.

“I’ll come out,” he says.

Now I can’t seem to breathe at all. I try to be calm, but the words still come out loud and even a bit unhinged at this point. “You can’t. I don’t want that. None of it. You don’t have to do any of this for me.”

By the time I’m done speaking, I’m shaking my head frantically. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I understand that it doesn’t make sense to feel this kind of panic right now. That if I look deep down inside me, this is what I actually do want. For us to be out. Not loudly or with fanfare, but him and me free to be ourselves without anybody else giving it a second thought.

Thing is, right now, he’d be doing it because of me and not because he feels it’s the right time, and that’s not something he should do.

I take a deep breath that ends up sounding like a panicked wheeze, and frankly that’s not too far off, despite my better intentions.

“It’s not a good idea,” I say, and in a bout of infinite arrogance, I figure that’s it. Case closed.

Ryker’s gaze stays on me, and he crosses his arms over his chest. There’s the familiar stubborn set of his jaw to deal with now.

My husband is an easygoing man. Unless he wants something. Then he turns into a literal shark.

“Why?” he asks.

“It’s not a good idea.”

“That’s not an answer.”

I’m lost for words for a moment because my head is a mess, and it’s difficult to figure out what I even want to say. What are my real thoughts and what is this panic taking over and speaking for me? I’m barely holding my head up in an ocean of fear, and there’s no lifeboat anywhere in sight and it’s all my own fault.

I should have told Ryk about the mess with Scott right away, because now when I open my mouth, the words aren’t coming. My vocal cords are paralyzed. Frozen.

It’s suddenly all too much. All of it. I just need a moment to think.

“We’re doing good. Why do you want to rock the boat?” I blurt out instead of taking that moment.

He stares at me for an endless second. “Because you’re not happy,” he says slowly. “And don’t try and argue. You’ve been getting quieter and more withdrawn for weeks, and I can put an end to it, so why wouldn’t I?”

“I haven’t. I’ve just been busy with stuff. These things happen.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he says. “You have. And I’ve been waiting for you to talk to me, but I’m starting to wonder if you ever will.” He takes a step closer. And another one. Until he’s standing right in front of me.

“Talk to me,” he says.

Tell him.

Tell him.

I open my mouth.

Nothing comes out.

He takes my face between his palms. His thumb traces over my cheek.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says. “I promise.”

Only he can’t make that promise. Nobody can. That’s a tiny piece of reality and for some reason it makes me feel just a tad bit more grounded.

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