Page 32 of When You Stayed
“What do you mean anymore? Royce and I haven’t interacted in years.”
Taryn glanced to the side, “Royce has always…” She trailed off. “Never mind, I’m just protective of her.”
I was getting distracted, and I didn’t need to know anything more intimate about the Quinn family while my jaw still ached and my pride seemed completely eviscerated. With my hand on the door handle, I met her gaze. “Your sister declared war with me a long time ago. You want me to be nicer, then she’s the one who needs to wave the white flag.”
EIGHT
ROYCE
AgeFifteen
The Christmas party was beautiful.
The Ryans always knew how to dress up their tree and decorate their home in such a way that it made me feel like we were in a storybook. Covered in gold and white ribbons, bulbs, and twinkle lights, the tree had to be fifteen to twenty feet tall. With it set against the huge window, we could watch as the snow fell.
It would have been perfect if Ford Ryan weren’t attending. He’d told me I should try letting Connor breathe once in a while at the start of Christmas break. Then, when I saw him again, he had touched my hair, and when I asked him why, he told me because it looked fake.
I’d harbored a small crush on him since we were nine years old, after the one Christmas where he’d kissed me on the cheek. I kept thinking I could convince him to do it again. So, year after year, I’d make a total fool of myself trying to get his attention. I’d do just about anything to have him look at me. Which included sleepovers with Ellie, even though she was Taryn’s friend. I had also asked his mom if she’d let me come over and clean the house for a few bucks. I never needed the money; I just wanted to see Ford.
By the time I was thirteen, I finally got over the crush and let him go then fell headfirst in love with Connor. Which was infuriating because as soon as I released my crush on Ford, he started paying attention to me. He was alwayswatching me, always trying to sit next to me in the car if we were going somewhere, but never talked to me. He always snuck up to see what Ellie and I were doing, and when I hung around Connor, he acted like I had the plague.
Now at fifteen, I just wanted him to disappear because he was so cruel to me.
He walked into the living room wearing a black turtleneck and tan pants. It was the nicest I had ever seen him dressed. He held a card to his chest while he nervously watched the group. Connor had made a joke that I laughed at, then Rook said something funny. Ryle was off playing with Nova or Ellie, and Taryn was trying to prank Connor as usual. Ford held the card so tightly we all made fun of him, saying it had to be his letter to Santa.
Then he extended his arm to me. The card said “Rose” across the front.
Rook and Connor watched us, even going as far as to make kissing sounds. Ford’s face was pink, and I realized that was my moment of vindication. I didn’t take the letter from his hand.
I let it hang there until Connor barked out a laugh and Ford dropped it to the table next to me. Turning my back on him, I flicked my hair over my shoulder and began laughing with Rook and Connor once more. When I finally glanced back at Ford, the card was gone, and so was he.
The memory of when I was fifteen played in my mind while I wrapped the basket in cellophane. A painful jolt rattled my heart as I combed back through the memory. The heartbroken look on Ford’s face, the way his hand had extended, but shook. I couldn’t bring that version of things and line it up next to the pain he’d caused me back then. I had felt so justified in how I snubbed him.
Perhaps he didn’t care, but maybe he did. Maybe he’d clung to how I treated him that Christmas all these years and used it as a way to punish me. I let out a heavy sigh, breathing through my nose as I added a dark green bow to tie off the crinkly plastic.
Once I finished, I stepped back to inspect it. Ford was probably going to hate it, and not even open it, but I had to do something to apologize for what happened. It had been two days, and I hadn’t seen or heard from Ford. Which was fairly normal, since we barely ran in the same circles, but for some reason ever since this thing with Rodney happened, it felt like I was seeing Ford all the time.
Not seeing him suddenly felt unsettling.
Butterflies swarmed my stomach as I paced my bedroom. What if he didn’t want to see me, or he laughed in my face? What if he tossed it in the garbage?
Worrying my lip while staring longingly at the gifts secured inside the gift wrap would not magically solve this. I had to try.
My phone pinged with a text, drawing my attention.
Dad: Can I talk to you, honey? I’m in the garage if you have a second.
We also hadn’t really talked in two days. He was at the club, and when he wasn’t, he was on a ride or off somewhere. I was mad at how he’d handled everything, even though I was the one to set it up…he didn’t have to punch Ford. I never thought he’d hurt him. Then there were things he’d said to me that had dug a hole and planted a seed of bitterness in my heart.
But I loved my dad, and I didn’t want this wedge between us.
After pulling on a hoodie and jeans, I ventured toward the garage.
When I opened the side door, I heard a basketball game playing on his television while Dad was half inside the hood of the older Chevy that he’d been restoring. My gaze flicked up to the wall, where several framed photos hung. Shaded images with outlined drawings, made up of erased material. It was like reverse art, and I loved it. I couldn’t draw, so I tried doing what my dad did with shading paper only to erase designs into them, mine never turned out like his did. His were beautiful. The one he did of my mother was my favorite.
Running my finger along the gold paint of the car, I dropped to my elbows. “How’s it coming?”
Dad lifted his head, his green eyes so severe and sad as he took me in.
