Battered Not Broken (34 page)

Ally nodded.

“Anyway, it’s nice to have the group for support, and my family’s been great too. Mike and I are even thinking of going on a honeymoon eventually, whenever he feels up to it. Maybe sometime this summer.”

“Where are you planning to go?” Ally asked.

“We’re considering a cabin getaway in the Poconos, but we’re not really sure yet.”

“That sounds romantic,” Ally said. “I’ve heard it’s really nice there.”

“Speaking of romantic,” Melissa said after a brief stretch of silence, “how’s it going with Ryan?”

Ally’s stomach plummeted. It was a question she’d been expecting and dreading since she’d chosen to visit the gym after work. She’d known Melissa would be there – she rarely worked Monday nights. And she’d suspected the topic would come up, though for a brief while she’d thought that maybe Melissa wouldn’t ask since Trisha was there.

But maybe it was for the best that she was present. After all, she was the only person Ally knew who was at all familiar with what Ryan was going through. “Not so good.” She told Melissa and Trisha as briefly as possible about Ryan’s injury and the way he’d rejected her when she’d tried to help him afterward.

“Wow,” Melissa said. “And you haven’t heard from him since then?”

“No,” Ally admitted, thinking of the cell phone she’d left in her locker, inside her duffel bag. “Today is his birthday – I sent him a text this morning, but he hasn’t replied.” It sounded lame when she said it.

“Are you going to call or stop by his place tonight?”

“I don’t know.” Both were possibilities she’d been contemplating all day. The resulting mental conflict had nearly driven her crazy as she’d trimmed, filed and polished clients’ nails at the salon. Should she call, or even show up at his doorstep? Or would doing either only anger him further? She let her gaze dart back and forth between Melissa and Trisha. “Do you think I should?” Trisha’s words about giving her husband Mike space rang in Ally’s ears.

“I mean,” she continued, “I think he was frustrated mostly by the way I’ve been treating him. I thought I was helping, but I guess I went overboard.”

“It can be hard to find the right balance of being there and giving space when needed,” Trisha said. “I’m still trying to figure it out with Mike.”

Ally nodded. “Ryan doesn’t usually say things like that or have outbursts like you said Mike does.” At least, not as far as she knew. “He’s actually usually pretty clear-headed. I think his reaction had to do mostly with the way I reacted to finding out about his TBI.” She was no doctor, but that was the way it seemed. And recognizing that felt like swallowing something sour. She chewed the inside of her lower lip. “Since Saturday morning I haven’t stopped wondering if he really meant what he said about not wanting me around.”

“Sometimes people are too afraid or ashamed to admit what they actually want, or they just don’t know how to say it.” Melissa spoke up, dropping the striking bag from under her arm and letting it dangle from one handle. “I mean, I’m no expert on this stuff, but that much can be true for anyone, not just guys like Ryan and Mike.”

A memory flashed through Ally’s mind in vivid detail – one where she stood naked in front of Ryan, his hands on her bare body. “
I wanted to touch you like this.”
He’d caressed her with his hands and lips, his breath hot against her skin as he’d spoken. “
But I didn’t know how good it would feel. I couldn’t have imagined it, just like I couldn’t have imagined the silver lights and god-awful pain before I saw and felt them for the first time.”
He’d certainly seemed to want her then.

Which was exactly why it had stung so badly when he’d ordered her to leave, telling her there was no reason for her to be at his home. Anyone in his position could’ve used a helping hand. Why would the man who’d told her that her touch eased his pain reject her when he was in so much of it? “Maybe you’re right. When he told me to leave, it just came so far out of left field. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Melissa shrugged. “Two days have gone by. Maybe he’s cooled down.”

Ally turned to Trisha, questioning her wordlessly with her gaze.

Trisha shrugged. “I don’t want to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do, especially when I’m new to all this too. But maybe you could try getting in touch with him and see how he’s feeling. Especially since he’s got that broken wrist – I don’t think it would hurt to check in.”

“Yeah. I think I’ll do that.” Ally glanced toward the doors and the descending evening beyond. Soon it would be dark, and Ryan had spent all of his birthday alone so far. “Thanks, Trisha. Thanks, Mel. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to work up the courage if not for you two.”

“No problem,” they both said, nearly in unison.

“Good luck,” Trisha echoed.

“Thanks.” Ally’s gaze was irresistibly drawn to the doors again.

“You want me to put this back?” Melissa held up the striking bag and gave Ally a knowing look.

“Yeah, sorry.” They hadn’t even started on the kicks they’d intended to practice on the bag. They’d planned to take turns holding it for each other since the gym was busy and all the hanging bags were being used.

“It’s okay. I can work out on my own. Or maybe Trisha will hold the bag for me.” She shot her sister a devilish grin. “Let us know how things go.”

Ally promised to do just that as she hurried to the locker room, intent on dressing as quickly as possible. Luckily, she’d hardly broken a sweat and didn’t need to shower. When she pulled her phone from her duffel bag, there was nothing from Ryan. Her heart sank a little but was buoyed by the knowledge that she’d be seeing him soon – for better or for worse.

* * * * *

Standing on the concrete outside Ryan’s apartment door felt like standing on ice of indeterminate thickness. Ally gripped her purse’s strap tightly, more for something to do with her hands than any other reason. The edge of the strap bit into her palm and she repaid it by digging her fingernails into the leather. She’d already knocked – now it was a matter of whether Ryan would answer the door.

He probably – hopefully – hadn’t gone anywhere. Had he? Ally’s stomach dropped at the thought that she might be standing outside an empty apartment, waiting for someone who wasn’t there to either let her in or turn her away again.

Her heart skipped a beat as the sound of the deadbolt being undone came from inside.

Slowly – agonizingly slowly – the door swung inward.

Ryan stood at the threshold, his hand on the knob. He wore a pair of jeans that might have been the same ones he’d had on at the hospital and, of course, the plaster cast on one forearm – nothing else. Maybe he’d gotten tired of struggling into shirts. His eyes were still red around the edges, their pupils focused on her as he stood, his mouth firmly closed above a jaw that was darkened by stubble.

“Can I come in?” Never had she been so intimidated by four simple words.

“Yeah.” He took a step backwards.

Before he could change his mind, she stepped over the threshold, her heart pounding in relief, flooding her veins with a substance that made her limbs feel faintly weak.

She kept her jacket on but forced herself to give up her death-grip on her purse handle. Setting her handbag down on the nearby island’s countertop felt daring, but she did it anyway. “I sent you a text this morning. Did you see it?” Too naggy – she sounded like she was upset with him for not replying. “It’s not a big deal if you didn’t. I just—”

“I didn’t see it. My phone is broken.”

“Oh. The message I sent – it was just to tell you happy birthday.” Poor timing – he looked anything but happy. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she stop sabotaging the conversation?

“Thanks.” He raised a hand to the back of his own neck, rubbing just above where she knew his tattoo started, unmarked skin merging into black ink on the meeting ground of one slightly-raised vertebra.

Her instant fuck-up was snowballing, threatening to ruin the reunion she’d spent the walk to his place hoping to God he’d allow them to have. “I’m sorry. About last time. I didn’t mean to be so pushy.” She fought the urge to drop her gaze to the floor as he stared at her, the two yards of space between them seeming as vast as the Atlantic Ocean.

“Don’t be sorry.” There was a faintly gravelly undertone to his voice. It was hard to tell whether it was because he was emotional or just needed something to drink. “There’s no reason for you to be sorry.”

“No, I mean it. You didn’t even want me to come to the hospital and I ignored that – I didn’t listen and now that I look back on it, I didn’t have any right to force my presence on you like that.”

He surprised her by laughing – a short bark of unhappy laughter, but still. “You didn’t force yourself on me – you were just being kind. That’s the thing, Ally – you’re so damn nice and self-sacrificing, sometimes it makes me feel like shit.”

She stood there, still in her jacket, tensing beneath its zipped-up front as if she were expecting a blow to the gut. “Sorry.” Apologizing for being so damn nice didn’t feel as stupid as she might have imagined.

“No, I mean – it
shouldn’t
make me feel that way. But it does because you’re always worrying over me, always trying to help. And it’s nice of you and everything, but it makes me feel pathetic. I wanted to take you on dates, wanted to make you happy and have a romantic goddamn time – not sit around in my apartment or a hospital room thinking things like
fuck, I hope I’m not going to puke from the pain, because that would be fucking gross and she might leave then
.”

“I wouldn’t leave because of that.”

He pulled his hand from his neck and made an exaggerated gesture of exasperation. “See what I mean?”

“Once, at the gym, Melissa nailed me in the solar-plexus with a really beautiful kick. I puked right there on the mat, in front of her and half a dozen guys. We were in the ring – everyone saw. It was humiliating.”

Something flashed in Ryan’s eyes – what, exactly, it was impossible to tell.

“Melissa felt bad and insisted on cleaning it up while I rested. I tried to stop her but she wouldn’t listen. And then Cameron came out with some janitorial supplies, freaking out over his precious mat. And so he and Melissa cleaned it up right in front of me and everyone. I felt pathetic.”

“Yeah, well…”

“So if one of your migraines ever makes you puke in front of me, just think of me sitting there on the floor next to the ring like an idiot while Cameron and Melissa talk about whether the mat will be slippery where I threw up my lunch on it and everyone stares at me while pretending to work the bags.”

The silence that followed her confession wasn’t exactly the reply she’d been hoping for, but Ryan appeared to be thinking – hopefully not about how she’d looked when she’d puked in the ring.

He shook his head. “I know I’ve been a dick. Sorry. I just… I was already pissed at myself for fucking up half our other dates, and I wanted to make up for it. Then I fell at work and now I can’t.” He lifted his damaged arm. “I can’t do the things I need to do to be with you and that makes me so mad I can’t stand it.”

It was almost impossible to resist the urge to cross the space between them, to reach out and touch him. Her fingertips tingled with the urge, hungry for the heat and texture of his skin. But fear of frustrating him further held her back. “There’s nothing a broken bone prevents you from doing that you need to do in order to be with me.”

“It’s not just my arm. It’s everything. I’m just… I’m fucking broken. There are all these things that are wrong and I can’t fix them. Maybe time will make a difference – I don’t know. But you know now and the act is over.”

Something inside her snapped – her last reserve of inhibition, maybe. She took a couple steps forward and dared to touch him, pressing her palm against his jaw and liking the roughness of his stubble against her skin. “You’re not broken. Maybe a little battered, but definitely not broken.”