Fading Out (24 page)

Again, I nod. “Thank you. I promise, I’ll try.”

His bushy gray eyebrows bunch. “There’s no reason to impress me, Ari. A pat on the back from me won’t save your life. And
try
is not an option. Get that out of your vocabulary. If you really want this, there is only
do
.” He gives my arm a squeeze, a tight smile carved into his weathered face, before he leaves the room.

With a sigh of exertion, I push the back of my head against the pillow. It’s going to take years of reprogramming—or
de
programming—not to seek constant approval. The desire to always rise to please everyone still thrums through me, but I’m aware of it. That’s at least something.

My door opens again, and I clear my throat of the rasp, expecting Ryder. But the person who steps into my room, as if she owns the damn place, makes my heart skitter to a stop. “Mel?”

“Well, who else,” she says, shutting the door behind her. She walks toward my bed and lays her hand atop mine. “Someone had to kick your boyfriend’s ass into gear.” She winks, but I know she’s serious.

“Just how hard did you kick his ass?” I smile up at her.

She shrugs. “He’s not as dumb as most jocks. But you were all too right about his smoking body.” She fans a hand in front of her face, and I laugh. “You did good, girl.”

“I know.” I lace my fingers through hers as she sits in the chair beside my bed. “I almost blew it,” I admit.

“You could never blow it with that boy. He’s madly in love with you. It’s sickening, actually.” She shakes her head. “Any guy that faces off with a girl’s dad…he’s a keeper. And”—she cocks her head toward the door—“I spied a couple of nice tats beneath his tee out there. I knew you had a little rebel in you somewhere.”

“God, Mel. I’ve missed you. I can’t believe you’re here.”

She pats my hand before grabbing the cup with a straw and offering it to me. “I love you, too, but you’ve got to get some fluids in you. You look like hell.”

I laugh. I think she’s the only one who could ever say that and not destroy me. Our months spent at Stoney linked us more closely than anyone else in my life. Well, until Ryder—but I never thought I’d have realness like this; people who would be honest with me. And that honesty wouldn’t break me.

“You know,” Mel says as she accepts the cup back, “I have this friend. She actually reminds me of you. She’s a big ol’ know it all, too.” She sticks out her tongue, and I flip her off. She laughs. I knew she’d appreciate that.

“Anyway,” she says. “You remember before I came back to Stoney the second time? That big ordeal I thought was so dire between me and Boone?” I nod, and she continues. “She told me something that helped me put things into perspective. And I know that you’ve gotten most of this worked out on your own, but hey, it can’t hurt to have more info, right? I mean, smart college freaks dig that shit.”

“Just tell me, Mel. God.”

She smiles, and I can’t help but think how beautiful she is now. She’s a transformed woman. Clean and sober and happy in love.

“You’re like this hollow shell,” she begins, and I quirk an eyebrow.

“Thank you?” I say, hesitant.

Waving her hand, she says, “Just listen. You ever heard of the heartwood of a tree?” I shake my head. “It’s beautiful. But before it’s cut and polished and turned into a work of art, it’s death. It’s hard and decayed, and the darkest part of the tree. Flawed.” She reaches out and takes my hand. “The heart of a tree is so full of imperfection, that the tree kills it off.”

I look down at our connected hands. “I know what you’re trying to say, Mel.”

“I figured you would. You’re a smart cookie.”

“I’ve been killing myself trying to be perfect, but no one’s supposed to be perfect.” I glance up into her brown eyes.

“Yeah,” she says. “And it’s the imperfection that makes you,
you
. Don’t kill off your heartwood—the imperfect, flawed, dark part of you…because even a tree needs its heart to live, Ari. Without it, it would just be a hollow shell.” She twists her lips into a smile. “Besides, without the bad, you can’t enjoy the good. It’s all about balance.”

I nod slowly, processing her words. “And your friend gave you this speech?”

She hikes one shoulder in a half shrug. “I may have altered it just a bit for you, but it’s good stuff.”

I laugh a little, blinking away the gathered tears. “Got it. And is that how you’re living these days? Balanced?”

“Yeah. I’ve finally found some balance.”

“I’m assuming Boone has a little to do with that.” I wriggle my eyebrows at her.

“Shit. He has everything to do with it. That boy is one fine piece of heartwood, let me tell you.” I laugh, and she smiles easily. “I’m glad you sent me that message.”

I reach over, and she meets me halfway for a hug. I suppress a wince, my body still angry at my mistreatment.

“All right,” she says, pulling back and fanning her hands in front of her eyes. “I don’t do tears. Stop with all that.”

I sit up a bit. “Where is Boone, by the way? You didn’t ditch him on the road or anything to be with me, did you?”

She shakes her head. “We were cruising through the Keys when I got your text. He tailed me up here, and he’s at a hotel now. I wanted to see you on my own.”

My chest pangs. “Thank you,” I say, because I know she probably didn’t even take a pit stop in order to get here as quickly as she did.

“You’d have done it for me.” She mock punches my arm. “And I was really curious about this Bobcat you snagged. Had to make sure he was treating my girl right.”

“He’s perfect for me,” I say.

When the nurse forces Mel to leave and declares visiting hours over, I throw back the covers and push the call button. She reenters quickly.

“I need to see my boyfriend,” I demand.

She holds up her hand. “I can’t do that—”

“It’s an emergency,” I say. “Are you a football fan?” Like most people around here, I’d be surprised to hear her claim otherwise.

She raises her eyebrows, and I say, “If you don’t let me talk to him, there are going to be a lot of unhappy Braxton fans.”

T
he right words
. I need them this second to convince Ari to look at me. To make her understand that nothing has changed for me—that there’s nothing she can ever do to remove my feelings for her.

What kind of writer never has the right words?

“Don’t do that.” I lean over and press a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“Do what?” she asks, but I suspect she knows exactly what I’m calling her out on.

“Avoid. There’s no reason to feel ashamed around me.” I brush her long layers away from her face. “Three weeks ago…we’re never going to talk about it,” I say. “It’s forgotten. It’s a blip, a fumble. This right here is our official start of forever, Ari. So, please, look me in the eyes.”

She blinks, then her gaze flicks up to meet mine. I want to fall into those bottomless amber irises and
not
have to go through this part. I just want her to know that I’m not upset, and that I’m not judging her. What she’s battling takes precedence over my injured ego. I’m not broken, and I’m far from scared off. She doesn’t owe me an explanation, or even a promise. I only need to know that she’ll let me be here for her.

But before I can voice any of these thoughts, she stuns me speechless.

“I love you,” she says. Those three words that are so often taken for granted…coming from Ari’s lips…for me, are everything. I will always desire to hear them. I will do whatever it takes to help her through this so she can voice them freely.

“You love me,” I say, and she nods. “Then that’s all that matters.”

She shakes her head against the pillow. “But it’s not, Ryder. I need you to do something for me.”

The jolt in my heart knocks the air from my lungs. “What?”

“Win the championship.”

Running a hand through my hair, I suck in a deep breath. “Ari, I made my choice—and I don’t regret it.” I widen my eyes, unblinking, to hold her stare. “And if I had to do it again, I’d trade the past four years of perfect passes and touchdowns if that’s what it took to be here with you now.”

Taking my hand, she laces our fingers together. I love the feel of her soft, delicate hands. I want nothing more than to wrap myself around her and shield her from this pain so that she doesn’t have to face it.

“But I told you before”—she reaches up to rest her palm against my face—“with me, you don’t have to choose. There’s time, Ryder. I’m not asking out of guilt; I’m demanding out of love. I want you to win this game for yourself…and maybe a little bit for me.” She bats her eyelashes dramatically, and I laugh.

“Oh, so we’re demanding things now.” I shake my head, but the truth of her words crash over me, liberating. “I don’t want to leave you,” I admit.

“You’re not. Not really.” She points to the flatscreen. “I’ll be watching the whole time. But you need to go. Like, now. You can make it, and I’ll be here safe and ready to have all kinds of revelations and uncomfortable conversations when you get back.”

Hesitant, I stay rooted in the chair.

She sighs, sending a yearning through me, then, “If you don’t play your ass off, I’m going to have a whole university—not to mention every diehard Bobcat fan—planning my demise.” She wrinkles her cute nose. “I’m not sure my Jag could survive a large-scale condom bombing.”

I stand and, cupping her cheek, my fingers securing the back of her neck, I angle her face to me. Then I lean over and kiss her. Her soft lips yield under my greedy need to feel connected to her, and I savor each caress they gift me. I’m tempted to wrap my arms around her and steal her away, but the feel of her tubes pressing against my stomach has me releasing her. I pull back.

“To be continued,” I say. “And when I get you back, there’s a whole bunch of making up we’re due for.”

Despite her weakened state and the darkened half moons beneath her eyes, there’s still a heat smoldering in her gaze, and that passion claws at my chest. She’s beautiful even when she’s sick. She’s strong even when she thinks she’s not. After we defeat Engleton, I’ll make it my mission to never see her in a hospital bed again.

I glance at my phone. “Hell. There’re only minutes before the start of the game.” Dread creeps through me; Coach is going to put a hurt on me like I’ve never felt.

Ari smiles and points toward the door. “Run.”

My chest swells with pride. As hard as I’ve fought in the past to prove myself to my father, my brother, everyone… There’s only one person I have to prove anything to.

Myself.

Ari—my smart girl—gets that, and she’s demanding that I do it right now.

“I love you,” I tell her, paused at the door.

Her bright smile fills me with confidence. “Go,” she says, laughing.

And I do. I bound right through the door and race out of the hospital with one goal in mind: creaming Engleton. My girl wants me to win the game. Our rivals will never face off against a more determined quarterback.

V
ee mutes
the hospital room TV. “I’m going for it,” she announces.

“That nurse is going to get you,” I say, accepting the remote from her. “Maybe I can get Markus to sneak us in some popcorn.” My stomach revokes this idea, but I’m trying to keep the mood light, even though I know Vee sees right through my lame attempt.

Regardless, she gives me a sweet smile. “Popcorn won’t cut it. I cannot watch Gavin on that field without anything less than chocolate. That last tackle about killed me.” She frowns, and I offer her my best commiserating sigh.

Mel groans at the both of us. “All right. I’ll make a run for it. I’ve got plenty of experience dodging feisty nurses.” She winks at me before popping out of her chair.

“We should both go,” Vee says, pushing herself up with a stretch. “If one gets caught, the other can go for help.” Mel nods on a shrug at this idea.

As they creep toward the door, preparing to be sneaky, I smile. Soon as they’re gone, I allow my features to relax, smile fading, and adjust the tube connected to my forearm to a more comfortable position.

I tried to convince Vee to go with Ryder, because I know just how badly she wants to be there to root for Gavin, but she refused. She wouldn’t even debate me on it. She and Mel insisted we all watch the championship together.

For the first half of the game, I’ve been casual, as cheerful as possible. Serene, even. For Vee and for Mel. But I’m so exhausted. The overwhelming draw to pull into myself, to shrink away and hide, frays at my nerves. It’s making me agitated, and I can sense the anxiety trying to suck me under.

My secret isn’t a secret any longer.

I love my friends and Ryder, and I just want to be well so they’re not worried—but that pressure in itself is causing me to stress.

And I know, it’s not going to magically get better in a night. In reality, the hero doesn’t swoop in and save the heroine, the story ending on a kiss. Or a group hug. Tah-dah! Everyone’s happy and healthy. The end.

This is real. And it’s going to take real work and patience, and even screwing up along the way, until actual recovery is achieved. That much I learned in rehab, but it’s also just common sense. Mel can validate the process; she’s still battling her own demons. I have the most supportive, nonjudgmental people in my corner, and I need to allow them to be here for me—to help. Only it’s difficult to relinquish that control.

The low dose of anxiety meds that Dr. Brant gave me is helping some to curve my neurotic thoughts. And watching Ryder tear up the field is giving me hope that we’ll get back to normal. Hell, better than normal. But the fear of tomorrow—the realization that I can’t just fake my way through it all—is pounding at the edges. Bleeding into this moment of contentment.

Breathe. I just need to breathe. In and out. In. Out.

I start to count down, needing to center my racing mind, and hear the door squeak open. Pulling myself together, I get ready to watch the second half of the game with Mel and Vee. But when I look over, managing a smile, my features go lax.

My father stands at the door, one hand tucked into the pocket of his gray suit. “Is it all right if I visit?”

The fact that he’s asking my permission—
for anything
—makes me blink. Shocked, I nod him inside, worried my voice will give away my unease.

“I was going to tell you this when we got back to New York,” he says, striding forward. He stops a foot before my bed. “But I was only trying to stall. I probably should’ve told you long ago. There was just never a right time, and you seemed to be doing well enough…I didn’t want to burden you.”

My eyebrows press together. “Well enough?” This, from him, sounds so foreign.

“Yes, Ari. I might not have voiced how proud I was, but that’s only because my father never offered praise easily.” A tentative smile touches his lips. “I never could please that man, and I suppose that mentality is passed down. A Wyndemere tradition.”

When I don’t comment, he clears his throat and takes a seat. “What you said about your mother…” He trails off.

“Dad, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s the truth.” His intense gaze locks on me, disarming. “I loved your mother.” My breath stills, the steady, low hum of machines filling the stark silence. I’ve never heard him voice that. Ever. “It was a marriage of love, not suitability. I fought your grandfather tooth and nail to marry Bethany, and defied him in the end. He didn’t carry out his threat to cut me off. He believed my marriage would fail, and that was all the punishment I needed. The shame in admitting he was right.”

I swallow hard, waiting—but I’m not sure I want to know.

“I didn’t lie when I told you this life was too much for your mother,” he continues. “But there was more, and I couldn’t bear you knowing. I still can’t…but it seems my life lessons may be of some use, after all.”

“Dad, it’s okay,” I say. “Whatever it is.”

He nods, then looks down at his hands. “Bethany struggled with terrible anxiety. After you were born, she fell into a depression. We sought doctor after doctor, and she tried different medications, but the strain of being in the public eye, managing this lifestyle, raising a child within it… She decided it was too hard. She didn’t want the burden.”

Nausea roils in my stomach. My mother left because of me. “She didn’t want to be a mother,” I state simply. He doesn’t need to sugarcoat it.

“No, darling. Your mother was just simply too…weak, for lack of a better word. She left because, for her, it was easer to give up than to fight to succeed. With her background…” He sighs heavily. “She came from a life where people accepted defeat, Ari. It’s difficult for me to explain this, but she wouldn’t even try.”

Looking at my father now, seeing the vulnerable man rather than the looming authority figure, my life suddenly comes into focus: the pressure to strive for perfection, to never display weakness, always demanding excellence. More than the expectation to rise to his standard, he feared me falling to my mother’s failure.

“I would’ve left everything behind and gone with her wherever. Be whoever. I would’ve done anything to keep her with us.” He can’t mask the shame in his eyes. “But it wasn’t enough. She didn’t want the responsibility of a family. And in the end, she asked for money.” His face pales.

Oh…no. The truth crashes into me, unstoppable. Like a wreck you see coming, but you can’t look away from. “Dad, I’m sorry.” More sorry for him than me. I never knew the woman.

“I’m not,” he says, taking my hands in his. Mine so tiny compared to his large ones. “She gave me you, and that was worth it all. My father never said I told you so, mercifully. Your grandfather did have some grace in his mean old bones.” I smile at his inflection. “But I was devastated for a long time. Until Becca. Your grandfather arranged that marriage, and I didn’t fight him on it. It wasn’t passionate like in my youth, but I do love her. That’s why… Ari, I’ve only ever wanted the best for you, and to steer you away from the pain and grief of this world.”

God, but how do you argue with that logic? Still, it’s my right to live through my own pain and struggles. As intelligent as my father is, he has to realize that. “Ryder isn’t like that. I know, it’s probably like hearing an echo of yourself, but it’s true. And even if everything is against us, and it’s difficult and we fight…it’s up to me to figure it out. I love him. I can’t marry Lucas, or anyone else who I don’t love. Ryder already has my heart.”

He inhales deeply. “I know, love.” His eyes capture mine. “You’re not your mother. You have to trust that I do know this. Unfortunately for you, I believe you’re more like me than you know. I’m sorry I never allowed you to see that.”

I feel tears well in my eyes, and I groan. “God, I’m sick of crying for one day. Doctor Brant is not going to be happy with all the loss of fluids.”

Despite the serious moment, my father chuckles. The sound is such a comfort, I revel in it. “Ryder did prove one thing to me. He put you first, so that’s a start in his favor. But he has exactly one chance with me—” he holds up a finger, his tone darkening “—he ever hurts you… Let’s just say, he better not dare.”

I don’t take my father’s warning lightly. But I also know that where history repeats itself, it also offers a chance for rebirth. Ryder and I have been given an opportunity to create something new. All of our own. A life for ourselves away from either of our pasts.

Voices travel into the room from the hallway, and I startle into motion, wiping the tear marks from my face. As Vee and Mel enter, followed by Becca and a nurse, all carrying plastic bags and sodas, I hike my eyebrows.

“What have you done?” I say, not addressing any one of them in particular. All their faces convey a touch of guilt and mischief. Although, I have some clue as to who was the culprit. I pin Mel with a look, but she immediately points to Becca.

Becca clears her throat and lifts her chin. “Well, it was hardly an easy task to get decent refreshments for a Super Bowl party at the hospital cafeteria.” She places her bag on the table, and I gape openly at her. “So, we went to the grocery store.”

I am shock. Shock is me. Becca went grocery shopping. My father’s lips twist into a smirk, and I know he’s thinking the same thing. The fact that this doesn’t disturb me is just the first step on a long route to our own personal recovery.

Difficult. But not impossible.

“It’s not the Super Bowl, dear,” my father says, rising and offering his chair to Vee. “This is college football.”

Becca stares blankly at him. “And? It’s on the flatscreen.” She says this as if it proves her point. “Regardless, I was disappointed they didn’t have quiche, but I did find some canned caviar.”

Mel makes a face. “I wouldn’t chance that, if I were you.”

Vee laughs, but I think Becca’s going to have to discover this mishap all on her own. I know my stomach definitely can’t take that kind of abuse. “Thanks, Becca,” I say, and she gives me a hesitant smile.

The nurse waves at the screen. “Turn it up,” she instructs. “My shift is over and I’m not missing my team take Engleton. I’ve been waiting for this for years.”

Vee nudges my arm. “Watch out for that one”—she nods to the nurse—“she might have a meltdown when she finds out we’re dating two of the players.”

I snort. “I can’t believe she’s actually, like, partying here. In my hospital room. With my stepmother and canned caviar.” I shake my head. “What’s next? The doctors and a beer keg?”

“It’s football.” Vee says this as if it clarifies everything.

“Of course,” I say, loving the light banter. Just moments before, I was ready to crawl under a rock. Now, even with the championship riding on Ryder, and people filling my room at the worst possible time in my life, I’m okay. I’m not one hundred percent, and I sure don’t feel like going to any after game parties—but I’m grateful to my friends and family for making me feel normal.

And oddly enough, I never thought that I’d aspire for normality. But it sounds pretty damn good.

“Look at your man,” Mel says. “Damn, girl. I need to call Boone over here immediately before I punch you with envy.”

“Oh,” Vee says. “Well, that one right there.” She points to a blip on the screen that she somehow knows is Gavin. His number isn’t even showing. “That one’s mine.”

Mel sputters. “Yeah, not a fan of bulk. He’s all yours.”

Vee tosses a popcorn kernel at Mel’s head.

This, right here, is perfection. It’s messy and flawed and complicated—but life is supposed to be. And on the screen, looking like he was born to play this game, is my future. The fact that I know what he looks like wearing glasses, and how good he feels on top of me, and that he’s the most intelligent and charming jock—that’s just a huge perk.

At three seconds to go, Ryder sends the ball spiraling through the air. It’s caught and run home for the winning touchdown. Braxton University wins the championship, and this one, defining moment will forever change Ryder’s life.

Our life.

He found me. He chose me. When I was fading, his love shone bright enough to chase away my darkness. He was willing to sacrifice his future—all because he believed in us.

Sometimes love means fading out so another shines brighter, but our love means never having to dim; we burn for each other.