Page 123 of Almost Ours
After a moment, he spoke again. “You just want me to just drop you off?” His voice was casual, like he was asking if I wanted to grab coffee.
I hesitated. A part of me craved solitude–to retreat into the quiet of my house and let my thoughts run their course. But another part of me–the part that had felt safe with Ryan tonight, even with everything tangled inside me–didn’t want to be alone.
“No,” I said quietly. The words felt easier than I expected. “I’d like you to stay. If that’s okay with you.”
Ryan glanced at me, a slow smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Of course, it is,” he said, warm and certain. “I was kind of hoping you’d want me to.”
Something inside me loosened, the weight on my chest lifting just enough to breathe a little easier. He wasn’t just offering comfort–he was offering something steadier, something safer. A kind of security I hadn’t let myself trust in a long time.
As we turned onto my street, I exhaled, the tension inside me unraveling little by little. The thought of having him close tonight, of not being alone with my thoughts, felt like exactly what I needed.
The walk from Ryan’s truck to the house was quiet but comfortable. Ryan’s hand rested lightly on my lower back, guiding me along the driveway. It wasn’t the first time we’d done this, and the familiarity of it felt oddly soothing, like a quiet rhythm we’d both slipped into without effort.
As I unlocked the door and stepped inside, Ryan followed, kicking off his boots and shrugging out of his jacket like he belonged here. And maybe he did. He’d been here enough times that it had started to feel natural, like this place was just as much his as mine.
“Want some water or something?” I asked, moving toward the kitchen.
“Water’s good,” Ryan replied, his tone casual, but I could feel his eyes on me as I grabbed two glasses and filled them at the sink.
When I returned, he was already in the living room, settling onto the couch with the easy confidence of someone who didn’t need an invitation. His long legs stretched out, and his arm draped over the back of the cushions as if he had all the time in the world.
I handed him his glass and flopped onto the armchair across from him, tucking my feet up underneath me. Ryan watched me for a moment, his gaze steady though not intrusive.
“You okay?” he asked, breaking the silence.
I nodded quickly. “Yeah. Fine.” My voice was tight, and I could feel the lie hanging in the air between us.
Ryan didn’t push, but the slight lift of his brow told me he wasn’t buying it.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” he said after a beat, his voice low and even. “But if you want to, I’m here.”
The sincerity in his words made something tighten in my chest. I looked down at the glass in my hands, turning it slowly. “It’s not that simple.”
“Okay,” Ryan’s voice was gentle, his patience unwavering.
I let out a shaky breath, my thumb tracing the rim of the glass. “It’s about Connor’s dad.”
Ryan didn’t flinch or act surprised. He just stayed silent, his presence steady as he waited, listening.
I finally looked up, meeting his steady gaze. There was no judgment there, no pity, just quiet understanding. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you,” I whispered, the words almost slipping out before I could stop them.
His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t press. Instead, he set his glass down and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Whenever you’re ready, Harper. No rush.”
I stared at him for a long moment, the weight of his words settling over me. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something like this. Tonight though, it felt different–more significant. And for the first time, I felt like maybe I could tell him, piece by piece. Maybe I could finally let him in.
“Connor and I have only been on our own since November,” I began, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to control it. “Reid and I were together since high school. At first, it was good… then his temper… it got worse over time. It started off as just yelling. Then smashing things, and then…”
I trailed off, swallowing hard. My hands were shaking, so I set my glass down before I spilled it.
Ryan leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t ask questions–he just watched me, his presence grounding me, steadying me.
“When I got pregnant with Connor, I thought it would calm him down.” I continued, my breath catching. “And for a little while it did. But after Connor was born…” My voice faltered, and I forced myself to push through. “It got worse. A lot worse. He never hit me while I was pregnant, but once Connor came… all bets were off.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the weight of the memories. “I stayed because I thought I could fix it. He’d run off all my family and friends. Everyone had given up on me… I had no one. And I thought I owed it to Connor to keep his dad in his life. But I was wrong. I was so, so wrong.”
Ryan’s jaw tightened, yet he stayed silent, his eyes never leaving me. He let me speak at my own pace, and his quiet support made it easier, even if the words felt impossible to say.
“There was this one night,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Reid was in the living room, watching a game, drinking like he always did.”
