Page 230 of The Path to Loving Him
“I don’t . . . I don’t want you here,” he says, his voice shaky.
I slip my arm around his waist and press a kiss to his shirt and feel the tension in his body slightly decrease, so I do it again.
And again.
And when he finally moves to his back and I slide my body over his chest, he allows me to look him in the eyes. I cup his cheek and wipe his tears away.
“I don’t . . . I don’t need you,” he says weakly.
“I know,” I say, still wiping at his tears. “But I’m not leaving. Feel free to make me, but I’m not budging.”
He looks away, his eyes focusing on the stars on the ceiling above us. After a few seconds of silence, he says, “I want to be alone, Gabby.”
“I’m not going to let you be alone.”
He lifts, shifting me to the side, and grabs the bottle of whiskey, uncapping it. He goes to raise it to his lips, but I stop him.
“Don’t.” I try to take the bottle, but he doesn’t let me.
“Gabby, I’m going to get really pissed if you don’t stop.”
“Then get mad. I don’t care,” I say. “I’m not going to let you be alone. Not now. Not ever.”
Now he stands from the bed and turns toward me, bottle of whiskey at his side. “Fine, you want to do this now, then? I was going to give you a fucking second, but we can do this now.”
“Do what?” I ask even though I know exactly what’s coming.
“End this.” Yup, I knew it. Thankfully, I’m prepared for it and not blindsided.
“You want to end what we have?”
“Yeah,” he says, leaning against the wall now.
I take him in—the slouch in his shoulders, his unruly hair, and the deadness in his eyes. This is not the Ryland I know. This is not the same man, and thankfully, I can look at the situation and realize that without getting emotional.
“Why? Why do you want to end this, Ryland? Is it because you don’t love me anymore, because from what I saw today, I’d say that’s the exact opposite. Is it because you feel like you can’t protect me, because that wouldn’t be the case either. Or is it because you’re spiraling and attempting to eliminate everything good from your life?”
His lips twist to the side, and without emotion, he says, “Because I don’t love you anymore.”
I feel my stomach turn from his answer, but I know he’s lying.
So I step up to him, take the bottle from his hand, and set it on the floor. Then I slide my hand up his chest to the back of his head. “You don’t love me anymore? Is that the truth? Or are you lying because you don’t think you deserve anything good in your life?”
“It’s the truth,” he says, looking over my shoulder.
“Then fucking say it to my face, Ryland. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t love me.” I force his eyes to look at me. “Don’t be a coward and look away. Look at me. Say those words to me and mean them. Because I’ll tell you right now, I love you. I love you more than anything, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand here and let you ruin what we have.”
Tears fill his eyes right before they tip down his cheeks.
“Say it, Ryland. Look me in the eyes and say it to me.”
He wets his lips, but he remains silent. So I pull him to the floor with me. He curls against the floor as I lean against the wall. He rests his head on my lap, and he lets out a sob. His bodyshakes. It quivers. And I remain there, holding him, rubbing his back, and making sure he knows that I will not leave him no matter what happens.
And we stay there for a long time. I’m not sure how long, but long enough to see the sun set, to feel his breathing slow down, and to sense his calm.
I run my fingers through his hair. “I need you to know something,” I say quietly. “I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t been there to help me with Nathan. Seeing him, feeling him hold me like that, it terrified me, and I went . . . I went still. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t yell, I couldn’t scream. I went dead inside. If it hadn’t been for you at that moment, I’m not sure what would have happened today. And I need you to know that I’m so grateful for you, Ryland. I’m so grateful for you being there for me, protecting me, making sure that I’m taken care of. That’s who you are at your core. You’re a protector . . . you are not someone who hurts others . . . like your father.” I feel him grow stiff beneath me.
I continue to stroke his hair. “You’re not him. You’ll never be him. You’re not even close to being the same man. You’ve risen above who he was. You stepped up at a young age, taking the brunt of your father’s fists so your sisters were never hurt. You worked hard to take care of them. You gave up on your dreams to be there for them. You are selfless. Your father was selfish, so don’t believe for one second that you are him. You are anything and everything but him. You are the very best of men. In fact, you are the best man I know. And I never want to live my life without you.”
