Page 85 of Liberating Bells
“Ever since our trip, I’ve known the truth of what needed to happen, but I was too scared to follow through on that. And I’m sorry.” I shake my head, feeling my eyes prick with tears at the admission. I look at him sincerely, taking in those green eyes that sparkle when he’s happy, and the strong jaw that makes my knees go weak. Ryan is everything to me, and I can’t believe I’ve been so blind. “I’m so sorry. Mark was threatening me, trying to control me. I know that what I want is you. It’s been you this whole time and I?—”
Ryan cuts me off with a strangled noise as he lurches forward and claims my lips with his. His hands come up to cup my face tenderly as he kisses me senseless. When we’re both breathinghard, he breaks our kiss and leans his forehead against mine. His eyes are closed, and he takes a few deep breaths in and out.
“Tell me this is real. I don’t want to wake up from this dream.” Ryan’s words are broken. Every ounce of hurt and pain over the last eight years is now evident in his tone. He isn't hiding, and neither am I. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes as I pull away slightly.
"It's real. It's all real," I whisper. I offer Ryan a smile, and for the first time in a long, long time, I feel like I can finally relax. I stand up on my tiptoes, wrapping my arms around his neck. I kiss his cheek, feeling the scratchy stubble of his five o'clock shadow.
Ryan’s eyes open, meeting mine with vivid green. “So you’ve left him,” he says out loud, not really to me. “What do we do now?”
I bite the inside of my cheek for a moment. “I don’t know. My head is spinning. I don’t know how Mark is going to react. I’m scared he might actually follow through on his threat. I don’t know him anymore… I don’t know what he’s capable of.”
I thought I did. I thought I knew that man so well that nothing could surprise me. I was going to spend the rest of my life with him. But then the bruises started happening. And I felt like I was holding my breath around him every second, afraid to piss him off.
Ryan tucks some hair behind my ear and frowns. “Are you planning on staying here?”
“If that’s okay,” I say hesitantly. “I don’t know where else to go?”
“Of course, it’s okay. I would have insisted otherwise. Do you think Mark will come looking for you here? Or me, if that’s who he’s after?”
I feel my stomach clench with anxiety. “He did threaten you.”
He blinks twice and then his expression morphs into something grim. It’s an intimidating look that I’ve never seen on his face before. “Did he?”
I nod, squeezing my eyes shut and wishing this wasn’t my reality. But it is.
“I didn’t want to risk—I couldn’t.” My voice breaks, and I shake my head, looking down at the floor. “I wanted to leave sooner, but I couldn’t.”
I look at Ryan, hesitant, only to find him studying me. His expression is expectant, like he knows there’s more to the story. But behind that expectation, I recognize the familiar understanding that isso Ryan. And a sense of comfort settles over me, realizing that he’s on the same page. He understands—at least to some degree—of why it took me so long to get here.
As if he can sense my line of thinking, Ryan reaches to grab my hand to comfort me, but then feels the rigid stitches still embedded in my palm. I’m supposed to wait a few more days before I get them out. Ryan lifts my hand and tilts it, observing the cut.
When he glances back up with me, I can see the anger etched across his face. “What happened?” he asks, even though I’m pretty sure he has a good idea. But he surprises me again when he says, “Tell me everything.”
My instinct is to snatch my hand back and hide it, but I force myself not to. This is Ryan. And I don’t want to live like that anymore. I’m ready to face the truth head-on and address it. I'm not naive enough to believe it will be an overnight thing, but I'm ready to move on.
“After I got back, Mark confronted me. I told him no. I swear, Ryan, I was fully set on leaving him and going back to you,” I say, conviction in my tone. Ryan’s expression is still firmly set, his eyes watching me closely. I take a deep breath and continue with a shaky voice. “I told himNo, and then he hit me again.After that, I tried to lay low, stay out of his way. But it was no use. When he finally found out about everything between us, he threw a vase at me. When I tried to clean it up, I sliced my hand open. It wouldn’t stop bleeding, so I had to go get stitches.”
“He hit you?Again?” Ryan growls, and the severity of his tone has my heart racing, though in a different way than what I’ve grown accustomed to. Even though I know Ryan’s raging with anger, I’m assured that none of it is directed toward me.
“Yes. I’m sor?—"
Ryan’s expression darkens even further, and he swears, cutting off my backwards apology, before pulling me into his chest in one swift motion. “He will never hurt you again. I swear.” He pauses, and then squeezes me tighter. “Fuck, Bells, you don’t know how relieved I am right now that you’re here, away from him.”
His arms tighten around my shoulders until he's almost crushing me. I don't feel uncomfortable, though. I feel cherished. It makes me feel inadequate, undeserving. “I’m so sorry, Ryan. How can you be so understanding? How can you still want me?”
Ryan leans down and presses his lips against my hair in a firm kiss. “Stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for. And I’ll always want you. When you love someone as much as I love you, it doesn’t just go away. You don’t just stop loving them.”
“Even after everything I’ve done? Even though people told you, you were crazy for not moving on?”
“Especially then,” he says, his voice a low rumble in his chest.
I snuggle into his chest, feeling a smile stretch across my face. Finally, this is where I’m supposed to be. This feels right.
We stay there for a few moments before Ryan releases me and reaches down to grab my suitcase. He heads down the halltoward the bedrooms, and I follow him. Stepping into the master bedroom, he puts my suitcase down by the dresser.
I stand in the doorway and wring my hands together. He notices my movement and pauses, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you think I could sleep in the guest room?” I ask him timidly. I don’t know why I’m suddenly so nervous.
