It Ends With Us

  I laugh, but I let him. My hair is long enough that I can cover it, and I've never had a hickey before.

  His lips remain in the same spot, sucking and kissing until I can no longer feel the sting. He's pressed against me, bulging against his scrubs. I move my hands and shove his scrubs down far enough so that he can slide inside of me. He continues kissing my neck as he takes me right there on the couch.

  *

  He took a shower first, and as soon as he got out, I jumped in. I told him we needed to wash the smell of sex off of us before we had dinner with Allysa and Marshall.

  Allysa is due in a few weeks, so she's forcing as much couple time on us as she can. She's worried we'll stop coming to visit after the baby is born, which I know is ridiculous. The visits will just grow more frequent. I already love my niece more than any of them, anyway.

  Okay, maybe not. But it's close.

  I try to avoid getting my hair wet as I rinse off, because we're already running late. I grab my razor and press it under my arm when I hear a crash. I pause.

  "Ryle?"

  Nothing.

  I finish shaving and then wash the soap off. Another crash.

  What in the world is he doing?

  I turn off the water and grab a towel, running it over myself. "Ryle!"

  He still doesn't respond. I pull my jeans on in a hurry and open the door as I'm pulling my shirt over my head. "Ryle?"

  The nightstand by our bed is tipped over. I move to the living room and see him sitting on the edge of the couch, his head in one of his hands. He's looking down at something in his other hand.

  "What are you doing?"

  He looks up at me and I don't recognize his expression. I'm confused by what's happening. I don't know if he just got bad news or . . . Oh, God. Allysa.

  "Ryle, you're scaring me. What's wrong?"

  He holds up my phone and just looks at me like I should know what's happening. When I shake my head in confusion, he holds up a piece of paper. "Funny thing," he says, setting my phone on the coffee table in front of him. "I dropped your phone by accident. Cover pops off. I find this number hidden in the back of it."

  Oh, God.

  No, no, no.

  He crumbles the number in his fist. "I thought, 'Huh. That's weird. Lily doesn't hide things from me.' " He stands up and picks up my phone. "So I called it." He tightens his fist around the phone. "He's lucky I got his fucking voice mail." He chunks my phone clear across the room and it crashes against the wall, shattering to the floor.

  There's a three-second pause where I think this could go one of two ways.

  He's going to leave me.

  Or he's going to hurt me.

  He runs a hand through his hair and walks straight for the door.

  He leaves.

  "Ryle!" I yell.

  Why did I never throw that number away?!

  I open the door and run after him. He's taking the stairs two at a time, and I finally reach him when he's at the landing of the second floor. I shove myself in front of him and grab his shirt in my fists. "Ryle, please. Let me explain."

  He grabs my wrists and pushes me away from him.

  *

  "Be still."

  I feel his hands on me. Gentle. Steady.

  Tears are flowing and for some reason, they sting.

  "Lily, be still. Please."

  His voice is soothing. My head hurts. "Ryle?" I try to open my eyes, but the light is too bright. I can feel a sting at the corner of my eye and I wince. I try to sit up, but I feel his hand press down on my shoulder.

  "You have to be still until I'm finished, Lily."

  I open my eyes again and look up at the ceiling. It's our bedroom ceiling. "Finished with what?" My mouth hurts when I speak, so I bring my hand up and cover it.

  "You fell down the stairs," he says. "You're hurt."

  My eyes meet his. There's concern in them, but also hurt. Anger. He's feeling everything right now, and the only thing I feel is confused.

  I close my eyes again and try to remember why he's angry. Why he's hurt.

  My phone.

  Atlas's number.

  The stairwell.

  I grabbed his shirt.

  He pushed me away.

  "You fell down the stairs."

  But I didn't fall.

  He pushed me. Again.

  That's twice.

  You pushed me, Ryle.

  I can feel my whole body start to shake with the sobs. I have no idea how bad I'm hurt, but I don't even care. No physical pain could even compare to what my heart is feeling in this moment. I start to slap at his hands, wanting him away from me. I feel him lift off the bed as I curl up into a ball.

  I wait for him to try and soothe it out like he did the last time he hurt me, but it never comes. I hear him walking around our bedroom. I don't know what he's doing. I'm still crying when he kneels down in front of me.

  "You might have a concussion," he says, matter-of-fact. "You have a small cut on your lip. I just bandaged up the cut on your eye. You don't need stitches."

  His voice is cold.

  "Does it hurt anywhere else? Your arms? Legs?"

  He sounds just like a doctor and nothing like a husband.

  "You pushed me," I say through tears. It's all I can think or say or see.

  "You fell," he says calmly. "About five minutes ago. Right after I found out what a fucking liar I married." He places something on my pillow next to me. "If you need anything, I'm sure you can call this number."

  I look at the crumpled up piece of paper by my head that holds Atlas's phone number.

  "Ryle," I sob.

  What is happening?

  I hear the front door slam.

  My whole world comes crashing down around me.

  "Ryle," I whisper to no one. I cover my face with my hands and I cry harder than I've ever cried. I am destroyed.

  Five minutes.

  That's all it takes to completely destroy a person.

  *

  A few minutes pass.

  Ten, maybe?

  I can't stop crying. I still haven't moved from the bed. I'm scared to look in the mirror. I'm just . . . scared.

  I hear the front door open and slam shut again. Ryle appears in the doorway and I have no idea if I'm supposed to hate him.

  Or be terrified of him.

  Or feel bad for him.

  How can I be feeling all three?

  He presses his forehead to our bedroom door and I watch as he hits his head against it. Once. Twice. Three times.

  He turns and rushes at me, falling to his knees at the side of the bed. He grabs both of my hands and he squeezes them. "Lily," he says, his whole face twisting in pain. "Please tell me it's nothing." He brings his hand to the side of my head and I can feel his hands shaking. "I can't take this, I can't." He leans forward and presses his lips hard against my forehead, then rests his forehead against mine. "Please tell me you aren't seeing him. Please."

  I'm not even sure I can tell him that because I don't even want to speak.

  He stays pressed against me, his hand wrapped tightly in my hair. "It hurts so much, Lily. I love you so much."

  I shake my head, wanting the truth out of me so he'll see what a huge mistake he just made. "I forgot his number was even there," I say quietly. "The day after the fight in the restaurant . . . he came to the store. You can ask Allysa. He was only there for five minutes. He took my phone from me and he put his number inside of it, because he didn't believe I was safe with you. I forgot it was there, Ryle. I've never even looked at it."

  He breathes out a shaky breath and begins nodding with relief. "You swear, Lily? You swear on our marriage and our lives and on everything that you are that you haven't spoken to him since that day?" He pulls back so he can look me in the eyes.

  "I swear, Ryle. You overreacted before giving me the chance to explain," I say to him. "Now get the fuck out of my apartment."

  My words knock the breath from him. I see it happen. His back
meets the wall behind him and he stares at me silently. In shock. "Lily," he whispers. "You fell down the stairs."

  I can't tell if he's trying to convince me or himself.

  I calmly repeat myself. "Get out of my apartment."

  He remains frozen in place. I sit up on the bed. My hand immediately goes to the throbbing in my eye. He pushes himself up off the floor. When he takes a step forward, I scoot back on the bed.

  "You're hurt, Lily. I'm not leaving you alone."

  I grab one of my pillows and throw it at him, like it could actually do damage. "Get out!" I yell. He catches the pillow. I grab the other one and stand up on the bed and start swinging it at him as I scream, "Get out! Get out! Get out!"

  I toss the pillow on the floor after the front door slams shut.

  I run to the living room and dead-bolt the door.

  I run back to my bedroom and fall onto my bed. The same bed I share with my husband. The same bed he makes love to me on.

  The same bed he lays me on when it's time for him to clean up his messes.

  Chapter Twenty

  I tried salvaging my phone before I fell asleep last night, but it was no use. It was in two completely separate pieces. I set my alarm so I could get up early and stop and get a new one on my way in to work today.

  My face doesn't look as bad as I feared it would. Of course, it's not something I could hide from Allysa, but I'm not even going to try and do that. I part my hair to the side to cover up most of the bandage Ryle had placed over my eye. The only thing visible from last night is the cut on my lip.

  And the hickey he gave me on my neck.

  Fucking irony at its best.

  I grab my purse and open the front door. I stop short when I see the lump at my feet.

  It moves.

  It's several seconds before I realize that lump is actually Ryle. He slept out here?

  He pulls himself to his feet as soon as he realizes I've opened the door. He's in front of me, pleading eyes, gentle hands on my cheeks. Lips on my mouth. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

  I pull back and scroll my eyes over him. He slept out here?

  I step out of my apartment and pull my door shut. I calmly walk past him and down the stairs. He follows me the entire way to my car, begging me to talk to him.

  I don't.

  I leave.

  *

  It's an hour later when I have a new phone in my hands. I'm sitting in my car at the cell phone store when I turn it on. I watch the screen as seventeen messages appear. All from Allysa.

  I guess it would make sense that Ryle didn't call me all night, since he knew what kind of shape my phone was in.

  I start to open a text message when my phone begins ringing. It's Allysa.

  "Hello?"

  She sighs heavily, and then, "Lily! What in the hell is going on? Oh my God, you can't do this to me, I'm pregnant!"

  I start my car and set the phone to Bluetooth while I drive toward the store. Allysa is off today. She's only got a few days left before she gets a jump start on her maternity leave.

  "I'm okay," I tell her. "Ryle is okay. We got into a fight. I'm sorry I couldn't call you, he broke my phone."

  She's quiet for a moment, and then, "He did? Are you okay? Where are you?"

  "I'm fine. Heading to work now."

  "Good, I'm almost there myself."

  I start to protest, but she hangs up before I have the chance.

  By the time I make it to the store, she's already there.

  I open the front door, ready to field questions and defend my reasons for kicking her brother out of my apartment. But I stop short when I see the two of them standing at the counter. Ryle is leaning against it and Allysa has her hands on top of his, saying something to him that I can't hear.

  They both turn to face me when they hear the door close behind me.

  "Ryle," Allysa whispers. "What did you do to her?" She walks around the counter and pulls me in for a hug. "Oh, Lily," she says, running her hand down my back. She pulls back with tears in her eyes, and her reaction confuses me. She obviously knows Ryle is responsible, but if that's the case, it seems she would be attacking him, or at least yelling.

  She turns back to Ryle and he's looking up at me apologetically. Longingly. Like he wants to reach out and hug me, but he's scared to death to touch me. He should be.

  "You need to tell her," Allysa says to Ryle.

  He instantly drops his head in his hands.

  "Tell her," Allysa says, her voice angrier now. "She has the right to know, Ryle. She's your wife. If you don't tell her, I will."

  Ryle's shoulders roll forward and his head is fully pressed against the counter now. Whatever it is Allysa wants him to tell me has him so agonized, he can't even look at me. I clench my stomach, feeling the angst deeper than my soul.

  Allysa spins toward me and puts her hands on my shoulders. "Hear him out," she begs. "I'm not asking you to forgive him, because I have no idea what happened last night. But just please, as my sister-in-law and my best friend, give my brother a chance to talk to you."

  *

  Allysa said she'd watch the store for the next hour until another employee comes in for their shift. I was still so upset with Ryle, I didn't want him in the same car with me. He said he'd send for an Uber and meet me at my apartment.

  My entire drive home I agonized over what he could possibly need to tell me that Allysa already knows. So many things went through my head. Is he dying? Has he been cheating on me? Did he lose his job? She didn't seem to know the details of what happened between us last night, so I have no idea how this relates to that.

  Ryle finally walks through my front door ten minutes after me. I'm sitting on the couch, nervously picking at my nails.

  I stand up and start to pace as he slowly walks to the chair and takes a seat. He leans forward, clasping his hands in front of him.

  "Please sit down, Lily."

  He says it pleadingly, like he can't take seeing me worry. I return to my seat on the couch, but I scoot to the arm, pull my feet up, and bring my hands to my mouth. "Are you dying?"

  His eyes stretch wide and he immediately shakes his head. "No. No. It's nothing like that."

  "Then what is it?"

  I just want him to spit it out. My hands are starting to shake. He sees how much he's freaking me out, so he leans forward and pulls my hands from my face, holding them in his. Part of me doesn't want him touching me after what he did last night, but a piece of me needs the reassurance from him. The anticipation of what I'm about to find out is making me nauseous.

  "No one is dying. I'm not cheating on you. What I'm about to tell you isn't going to hurt you, okay? It's all in the past. But Allysa thinks you need to know. And . . . so do I."

  I nod and he releases my hands. He's the one up and pacing now, back and forth behind the coffee table. It's as if he's having to work up the courage to find his own words and that's making me even more nervous.

  He sits in the chair again. "Lily? Do you remember the night we met?"

  I nod.

  "You remember when I walked out onto the roof? How angry I was?"

  I nod again. He was kicking the chair. It was before he knew marine-grade polymer was virtually indestructible.

  "Do you remember my naked truth? What I told you about that night and what caused me to be so angry?"

  I lean my head down and think back to that night and to all the truths he told me. He said marriage repulsed him. He was only into one-night stands. He never wanted to have kids. He was mad about a patient he'd lost that night.

  I start nodding. "The little boy," I said. "That's why you were mad, because a little boy died and it upset you."

  He blows out a quick breath of relief. "Yes. That's why I was mad." He stands up again and it's like I see his entire soul crumble. He presses his palms against his eyes and fights back tears. "When I told you about what happened to him, do you remember what you said to me?"

  I feel like I'm about to cry
and I don't even know why yet. "Yes. I told you I couldn't imagine what something like that will do to that little boy's brother. The one who accidentally shot him." My lips start to tremble. "And that's when you said, 'It'll destroy him for life, that's what it'll do.' "

  Oh, God.

  Where is he going with this?

  Ryle walks over and drops down to his knees in front of me. "Lily," he says. "I knew it would destroy him. I knew exactly what that little boy was feeling . . . because that's what happened to me. To Allysa's and my older brother . . ."

  I can't hold in the tears. I just start crying and he wraps his arms tightly around my waist and lays his head on my lap. "I shot him, Lily. My best friend. My big brother. I was only six years old. I didn't even know I was holding a real gun."

  His whole body begins to shake and he grips me even tighter. I press a kiss into his hair because it feels like he's on the verge of a breakdown. Just like that night on the roof. And while I'm still so angry at him, I also still love him and it absolutely kills me to find this out about him. About Allysa. We sit quietly for a long time--his head on my lap, his arms around my waist, my lips in his hair.

  "She was only five when it happened. Emerson was seven. We were in the garage, so no one heard our screams for a long time. And I just sat there, and . . ."

  He pulls away from my lap and stands up, facing the other direction. After a long stretch of silence he sits down on the couch and leans forward. "I was trying to . . ." Ryle's face contorts in pain and he lowers his head, covering it with his hands, shaking it back and forth. "I was trying to put everything back inside his head. I thought I could fix him, Lily."

  My hand flies up to my mouth. I gasp so loudly, there's no way to hide it.

  I have to stand up so I can catch a breath.

  It doesn't help.

  I still can't breathe.

  Ryle walks over to me, taking my hands and pulling me to him. We hug each other for a solid minute when he says, "I would never tell you this because I want it to excuse my behavior." He pulls back and looks me firmly in the eyes. "You have to believe that. Allysa wanted me to tell you all of this because since that happened, there are things I can't control. I get angry. I black out. I've been in therapy since I was six years old. But it is not my excuse. It is my reality."

  He wipes away my tears, cradling my head against his shoulder.

  "When you ran after me last night, I swear I had no intention of hurting you. I was upset and angry. And sometimes when I feel that much emotion, something inside of me just snaps. I don't remember the moment I pushed you. But I know I did. I did. All I was thinking when you were running after me was how I needed to get away from you. I wanted you out of my way. I didn't process that there were stairs around us. I didn't process my strength compared to yours. I fucked up, Lily. I fucked up."