Page 13 of The Downside of Love
“You know where it is, Stryder.” Ryan rolls her eyes. “And you’re not going to use it until you tell us what’s going on.”
“Nothing is going on. But I’ll tell you this, if I don’t use your bathroom soon, I’m going to be peeing all over your floor, and I’m pretty sure you won’t like that.” Taking off without another word, I make it to the bathroom and relieve myself, eyes closed, my mind spinning.
Shit, I don’t feel good.
They are right to be concerned.
Hell, I’m concerned.
I know I’m plunging headfirst without a parachute into a downward spiral. Every day I wake up full of self-loathing. Every day I go to a job I hate, a job I never thought I’d ever have. And every day, I go home to a father who won’t spare me a glance because I’m so repulsive to him, a failure not worth his time anymore.
And it’s not even my fucking fault.
I know it’s not.
It can’t be.
I did everything I had to. I might have fucked around a little, but I still pulled good grades, did all the extracurricular activities needed, and I was damn good at flying and landing the glider. Right up there with Colby, who was top of most classes.
From day one, I noticed some of the officers sneering at me, and it wasn't until the final year I had a clue why. Of course, by then, it was too late. Excellent grades had been obtained. Hours had been accumulated skydiving. Glider experience had been executed. Every fucking drill mastered. But it wasn't fucking enough. Turns out, my dad was an asshole.Not exactly new news . .. Or rather, my father had believed that fucking other men's wives when they were serving overseas was perfectly acceptable.Yeah. Great example.It's the only thing I can think of that could have guaranteed my non-acceptance into flight school.And he’s the one who can't look at me.
And now I pay the consequences for his actions. They shamed him by shaming me. They used me as a fucking pawn in their political game and the life I thought I would have, the life I never knew I actually wanted, is no longer available.
And that’s a painful realization to have to swallow.
That I’ve missed my mark.
And sure, I could reapply to flight school. Every year, I have a shot, but every year I don’t make it my chances of not getting in increase tenfold. So if I didn’t get in while attending the Academy, there is a slim chance in hell I’ll get in next year.
I’m a fucking officer in the US Air Force. Air Fields Command Officer. Big fucking whoop. I ensure the safe takeoff and landing of aircraft. It’s goddamn torture.
I flush, zip up, and wash my hands, sparing a look in the mirror. I don’t need to take in my appearance. I know what I’ll see. It’s the face of a bitter and disappointed man with nothing but a memory of gliding through the sky to live on.
I dry my hands, the softness of the hanging towel doing nothing for my bitter mood. And when I open the bathroom door, I come face to face with a very concerned Rory.
It’s the same look me she gave me when we were in the locker room of the private airport where we went skydiving. At the time, she was Colby’s, and she was concerned forhisfriend . . . the friend he was worried about.
Now, I wonder where she stands. Is she still concerned because I’m Colby’s friend, or because she believes we’re friends?
Does she feel a sense of responsibilityto make sure I’m okay?
“Can we talk?” she asks carefully.
I press my arms against the doorframe, my chest stretching past the threshold, my grip strong, my muscles rippling. I’m fascinated as I watch Rory quickly glance up and down my abdomen, taking in my six-pack and then traveling up to my well-defined pecs.At least I haven’t let my body go. I might be weak emotionally, but I won’t allow my physical strength to fail me too.
She is not very subtle when it comes to checking me out.
And I really don’t mind. It gives me a sense of pride that she can see me as something more than Colby’s friend, as a man. Although, I don’t like the guilty look on her face.She still loves Colby . . .
“I’m all ears.”
She takes a quick look around and then says, “Can we sit in the living room?”
I shrug and head out to the living room where I strip the blankets from the pullout mattress and fold it up, replacing the cushions so there’s a place to sit. I gesture for her to sit just as Ryan comes into the room, wearing something a little less revealing.
Did Rory tell her to put something else on? If so, what the hell does that mean?
Taking my coffee in hand again, I sit on the end of the couch and take a sip, waiting for Rory to do her thing. The concerned talk she gives everyone because that’s the type of kind and caring person she is.
