Page 51 of The Only Thing That's Real

Nick is sitting next to me. We chat about the guitar lessons Matt has been giving him. I’ve heard him practicing our song “Goodbye’. He’s a talented kid. I bet he has it down in the next few days. An idea strikes me, and I text the guys while we chat. Four sets of eyes hit me after my message goes through and a nod of the head from each of them is a promise between us.

When the appetizers have landed on the table, Ryan still isn’t back. My lesson in restraint breaks. My gut says wherever she’s gone, she needs someone to find her and that someone is gonna be me.

Excusing myself from the table, I don’t think about where I’m going when I walk out the front entrance of the restaurant. My feet take me to a small walkway between buildings to my left. My stomach knots when I see her sitting on the concrete, her arms wrapped around her legs, her forehead resting on her knees.

The usual pull between us gives me a tug I gladly follow.Once I reach her, I slide down the wall and sit. She doesn’t look in my direction, doesn’t acknowledge my presence, but she knows I’m here. Knows it’s me.

Minutes pass, neither of us speaking. We simply breathe the same air, and I luxuriate in the vanilla that is her signature scent. Eventually, she releases her legs, lengthening them out in front of her and her hands drop to her lap.

Not overthinking things, I take one of her hands in mine. There’s no way she doesn’t feel the way my body tenses for a split second when her fingers interlace through mine causing my heart to miss a beat. Her acceptance of my touch sinks in, all the muscles in my body relax one by one. My thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of her hand.

“My father hates me. He hates every single thing about me. I’ve been the family outcast since before I was born.”

My thumb halts. I must have heard her incorrectly, because the Jamesons are the family everyone back home wants to emulate.

“Excuse me?”

“How about a secret for a secret?”

“Ryan, that’s unnecessary. Really.”

“I know, but I need you to know that I know what shame feels like. I know what it feels like to think you aren’t worthy.”

I’m not sure where this is going, but I have a sinking suspicion I’m going to want to hurt someone if she tells me more.

“My parents were high school sweethearts. Teenagers when they got married. They had my sister before they were twenty. They had a rough patch and separated for a short period before I was born. My mom met someone from a couple towns over and started the process of filing fordivorce. When my dad found out, he, of course, had to have her back. He couldn’t stand the thought of her with someone else, even if he had been out sowing his wild oats. It killed him because she was madly in love with Beckett Staley.”

That’s where her pen name comes from. Damn.

“Sadly, Beckett died in a motorcycle accident. A few weeks later, Mom discovered she was pregnant. My dad was so desperate to get her back he actually showed up at Beckett’s funeral. He was relentless, from what I hear. Mom needed stability. She was already raising one daughter on her own. I think she figured she had loved my dad once upon a time. Maybe that love would return. She didn’t tell a soul she was pregnant. My dad thought the baby was his.”

“Shit.”

“Right? All was well at first. I was born completely bald. Shocking considering how much I have now, but once my hair started coming in red, just like Beckett’s, Dad put two and two together and let’s just say he wasn’t happy about it. But because the Jamesons were small town royalty, appearances were everything, so he sucked it up.”

I can tell the other shoe is about to drop, and I squeeze her hand in anticipation.

“I’m not sure how or why, but when I was in first grade, my dad found out that my birth father’s middle name was Ryan. My mom had honored my biological father without anyone knowing. Needless to say, Dad blew a gasket, and my life changed forever because of this piece of information. My sister and I shared a room, and I remember lying in bed, listening to them fight. Becks stared at me from across the room like she didn’t know me. That was how the two of usfound out we were half-sisters. Lying in bed listening to our parents’ fight.”

“Jesus, Ryan.”

She doesn’t acknowledge my reaction and continues her story that I know is only going to break my heart for her even more.

“From that night on, hugs and kisses were reserved for my sister only. Initially, Dad ignored me, while Mom gave me attention when Dad wasn’t watching. By the time I was a preteen, I was nothing but a disappointment. Never enough. Every time he looked at me, he saw the other man my mother had loved. The sight of me disgusted him, so I did everything in my power to stay out of his way. Mom was so concerned with keeping him happy and the family together that she never stepped in. It was his world, and his feelings were the only ones that mattered. So, I kept busy with sports and friends. When I was home, I did my chores, then stayed in my room and read. I disappeared into my books, letting them take me away. Fictional fantasies swept away the heartache and disdain I felt. Books were the life raft that rescued me and carried me through the rough waters until I was old enough to chart my own path.”

None of this reconciles with the perfect family my mom talked about during our call. They say to never judge a book by its cover. The Jameson family is proof of that.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I learned a lot. Mostly, what I don’t want in my life. Like marriage. Watching my mom fade to the background of her own life while sacrificing a relationship with her daughter, all to keep her marriage together because shewas dependent on a man…. That will never be me. I wouldn’t be me if I hadn’t had the experiences I’ve had.”

“So, what happened today?”

“Dad answered when I made the mistake of calling home today, and things hit me a little harder than usual. But I’m fine.”

“It’s not right you’ve been made to feel less than for something completely out of your control. But it’s true our experiences do make us who we are.” I bump her shoulder with mine. “I happen to like who you are.”

She still hasn’t looked at me, but I’ve been watching her profile this entire time and my heart melts when the corner of her mouth lifts with the hint of a smile.

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