She wipes away a tear. I briefly close my eyes and try to show her respect by not allowing myself to pull her to me again, but it’s so hard. I never knew she came for me. Brennan never told me, and right now, I’m struggling with wanting to let him know how pissed I am that he kept quiet and how much I love him for informing Maggie of how I felt.
“I fell in love with you during that year of waiting for you. I fell in love with your loyalty to Warren. I fell in love with your loyalty to me. I fell in love with your patience and your willpower. I fell in love with the fact that you didn’t want to start things out wrong with us. You wanted everything to be as right as it could be, so you waited an entire year. Believe me, Ridge. I know how hard it was, because I was waiting right along with you.”
I lift my hand and wipe a tear from her cheek, then let her finish.
“I swore I wouldn’t allow my illness to interfere with us. I wouldn’t let it prevent me from completely falling in love with you. I wouldn’t let it be my crutch to push you away. You were so adamant that it didn’t matter to you, and I was so desperate to believe you. We were both lying to ourselves. I think my illness is the thing you love the most about me.”
My breath catches in my throat. Those words hurt me more than any words ever have. “Why would you say something like that, Maggie?”
“I know it sounds absurd to you because you don’t see it that way. It’s who you are. You’re loyal. You love people to a fault. You want to take care of everyone around you, including me, Brennan, Warren . . . Sydney. It’s just who you are, and seeing how Warren treated me back then made you want to jump in and become my hero. I’m not saying you don’t love me for me, because I know you do. I just think you love me the wrong way.”
I run my palm over my forehead and try to squeeze the pain away. My head can’t take another second of listening to how incredibly wrong she is. “Maggie, stop. If you’re about to use your illness as an excuse to leave me, I won’t listen to it. I can’t. You’re talking like you’re about to just give up on us, and it’s scaring the living hell out of me. I didn’t come here for you to give up. I need you to fight with me. I need you to fight for us.”
She tilts her head to the side, slowly shaking it in disagreement. “I shouldn’t have to fight for us, Ridge. I fight every goddamned day of my life just to survive. I should be able to revel in us, but I can’t. I’m constantly living in fear that I’m going to upset you or make you angry because you want so badly to form a protective bubble around me. You don’t want me taking risks or doing anything that causes me one iota of stress. You don’t see the point in my going to college, since we both know my fate. You don’t see the point in me having a career, because you think it’s better if I just let you take care of me while I take it easy. You don’t understand my yearning to experience the things that give people that rush of adrenaline. You get mad when I bring up the idea of traveling, because you don’t think it’s safe for my health. You refuse to go on tour with your brother, because you want to be the one to take care of me when I get sick. You give up so much of your life to make sure I’m not having to give up any of mine, and sometimes it’s so suffocating.”
Suffocating?
I’m suffocating?
I stand up and pace the room for several moments, attempting to breathe the air back into my lungs that she’s repeatedly knocking out. After I’m calm enough to respond, I return to the couch and face her again.
“I’m not trying to suffocate you, Maggie. I just want to protect you. We don’t have the luxury of time like every other couple. Is it wrong that I want to prolong what we have for as long as we possibly can?”
“No, Ridge. It’s not wrong. I love that about you so much, but I don’t love it for me. It always feels as though you’re trying to be my lifeguard. I don’t need a lifeguard, Ridge. I need someone who is willing to watch me brave the ocean and then dare me not to drown. But you wouldn’t be able to let me near the ocean. It’s not your fault that you can’t give me that.”
I know it’s just an analogy, but she’s only using it to make excuses.
“You think that’s what you want,” I sign. “It’s not. You can’t tell me you’d rather be with someone who would allow you to risk the time you have left than have someone who would do whatever he could to prolong his life with you.”
She exhales. I can’t tell if she’s admitting I’m right or if she’s frustrated because I’m wrong. She looks me square in the eyes and leans forward, then briefly presses her lips to mine. As soon as I lift my hands to her face, she pulls back again.
“I’ve known all my life that I could die at any moment. You don’t know what that’s like, Ridge, but I want you to try to put yourself in my shoes. If you knew all your life that you were going to die at any moment, would you be okay with just barely living? Or would you live as hard as you could? Because you’re needing me to barely live, Ridge. I can’t do that. When I die, I need to know that I did everything I’ve ever wanted to do, and I’ve seen everything I’ve ever wanted to see, and I’ve loved everyone I’ve ever wanted to love. I can’t just barely live anymore, and it’s not in your nature to stick by my side and watch me do all the things I still have left to do in my life.
“You’ve spent five years of your life loving me like no one’s ever loved me. My love has matched yours minute for minute. I don’t want you to ever doubt that. People take so much for granted, and I never want you to feel that I took you for granted. Everything you do for me is so much more than I deserve, and you need to know how much that means to me. But there are times when I feel like our devotion to each other is tying us down. Keeping us both from really living. The past few days have helped me realize that I’m still with you because I’m scared to break your heart. But if I don’t find the courage to do it, I’m scared I’ll just keep holding you back. Holding myself back. I feel like I can’t live the life I want to live for fear of hurting you, and you can’t live the life you want to live because your heart is too loyal for your own good. As much as it hurts me to admit this, I think I might be better off without you. I also think that maybe someday you’ll realize you’re better off without me.”
My elbows meet my knees as I lean forward and turn away from her. I can’t watch her say another word to me. Every single thing she’s saying is not only breaking my heart, but it feels as if it’s also breaking the heart within my heart.
It hurts so much, and I’m so fucking scared, because for a moment, I begin to think there’s a possibility that she’s right.
Maybe she doesn’t need me.
Maybe I do hold her back.
Maybe I’m not the hero to her I’ve always tried so hard to be, because right now, I feel as if she doesn’t even need a hero. Why would she? She has someone so much stronger than I’ll ever be for her. She has herself.
The realization that I may not be what she needs in her life consumes me, and my regret and guilt and shame fold in on themselves, completely devouring the strength I have left.
I feel her arms wrap around me, and I pull her to me, needing to feel her against me. I love her so damn much, and all I want right now is for her to know that, even if it doesn’t change anything. I pull her to me and press my forehead to hers as we both cry, holding on to each other with all we have left. Tears are streaming down her cheeks as she slides onto my lap.
She mouths, “I love you,” then presses her lips to mine. I pull her against my chest as close as I possibly can without crawling inside of her, which is exactly what my heart is trying to do. It wants to embed itself within the walls of her chest, and it never wants to let go.
22.
Sydney
My cable won’t be connected until next week. My eyes hurt from reading too much, and maybe also from crying. I finally put a down payment on a car with my leftover student loans, but until I get a job, I can’t really afford the gas. I’d better find a job soon, because I’m pretty sure I’ve fictionalized how great living alone is. I’m tempted to try to get my job back at the library, even if I have to beg. I just need something to keep me busy.
I’m. Freaking. Bored.
So bored that I’m looking at my hands, counting random things that make absolutely no sense to even be counting.
One: the number of people constantly on my mind. (Ridge.)
Two: the number of people I wish would contract a sexually transmitted disease. (Hunter and Tori.)
Three: the number of months since I broke up with my lying, cheating bastard of a boyfriend.
Four: the number of times Warren has checked up on me since I moved out of the apartment.
Five: the number of times Warren has knocked on my door in the last thirty seconds.
Six: the number of days since I last saw Ridge.
Seven: the number of feet from my couch to the front door.
I open the door, and Warren doesn’t even wait for me to invite him in. He smiles and slips past me, holding two white bags in his hands.
“I brought tacos,” he says. “I was driving by on my way home from work and thought you might want some.” He sets the bags on my kitchen counter, then walks to the sofa and plops down.
I close the door and face him. “Thanks for the tacos, but how do I know you aren’t pranking me? What’d you do, switch the beef out with tobacco?”
Warren looks up at me and grins, impressed. “Now, that’s a genius prank idea, Sydney. I think you might finally be getting the hang of it.”
I laugh and take a seat next to him. “Figures, now that I have no roommates to prank.”
He laughs and pats my knee. “Bridgette doesn’t get off work until midnight. Want to go catch a movie?”
My head sinks into the back of the couch almost as quickly as my heart sinks into my stomach. I hate feeling as if he’s only here because he feels sorry for me. The last thing I want to be is someone’s worry.
“Warren, you don’t have to keep coming by here to check on me every day. I know you’re trying to be nice, but I’m fine.”
He shifts his weight on the couch so that he’s facing me. “I’m not coming by here because I feel sorry for you, Sydney. You’re my friend. I miss having you around the apartment. And I might be coming by here because I feel a tad bit remorseful for treating you like complete shit the night Maggie was admitted to the hospital.”
I nod. “Yeah. You were quite the asshole that night.”
“I know.” He laughs. “Don’t worry, Ridge hasn’t let me forget it.”
Ridge.
God, even hearing his name hurts.
Warren realizes his slip-up when he sees the change in my expression. “Shit. Sorry.”
I press my palms into the couch and stand up, wanting to escape the awkwardness of our conversation. It’s really not a subject I need to be talking about, anyway.
“Well, are you hungry?” I ask as I head to the kitchen. “I just spent hours slaving over the stove to make these tacos, so you’d better eat one.”