Rend (Riven 2)

The words were climbing over each other in my head like helpless animals that couldn’t find a way out.

“Take a breath, Matty. Just try and talk to me. We have time.”

I closed my eyes and breathed in through my nose. I could smell Rhys, our bed, the fresh scent of the tree outside our bedroom window.

“I’m afraid it’s gonna sound like I’m blaming you for something,” I said with my eyes still closed.

“Okay,” Rhys said.

I squeezed my eyes so tight light burst behind my eyelids.

“I don’t blame you. It’s me. I’m . . . not brave.”

A rough hand brushed my cheek and then it was gone.

“Just do your best.”

I nodded.

“When we first met. When we talked at the diner? You were so, um . . . light. The way you looked at me, the way you smiled. You were, like, delighted. With life. And then it turned out that you really were that way. And I loved that about you. Love it. It makes me so happy that you get to be that way. But it also . . . sometimes it m-m-makes it really hard to . . .”

I squeezed my hands into fists. My whole body was shaking.

“Fuck. Can you— Ugh.” Rhys tipped my chin up, eyes searching mine. “Can you maybe . . . can you hold my hand? I—”

Rhys pulled me against him and took my hands in his. Peace. Peace even in fear. Fuck, I couldn’t lose this.

My voice wavered and sounded high and scared.

“When you look at me and you love me so much, it . . . I can’t . . . I can’t tell you ugly things sometimes because I don’t want to ruin it for you. I don’t want to, like, infect your beautiful world with all my shitty stuff. Or—no, it’s . . .When you look at me, I see how much you love me and how much you want me to be happy and there’s this moment when if I say something bad then your face crumples and it makes me too sad and I just . . . I can’t.”

Rhys didn’t say anything but I could feel his attention. He was practically vibrating.

“You think that you need to protect me?” he said finally. “Like I’m a child? Like I can’t handle the real world?”

His hurt knifed through me and I cringed. It was that, that feeling. I couldn’t stand it.

“No, I— Well, not the child part, but I . . . I guess I do want to protect you.”

I could feel Rhys wrestling with that. Feel him turning it over and over in his mind. He thought of himself as the protector. He always had, and it was how others had always treated him. Big, strong, capable Rhys always took care of people.

“I don’t mean it as an insult,” I said. “You . . . you try to protect me too, don’t you?”

I leaned back so I could see his face and watched confusion transmute into fierceness.

“Yeah, of course. You’re my husband and I want to take care of you. I want to protect you from everything.”

“Me too. I want to protect you, and I . . . I can’t stand the feeling of you being hurt. I can’t stand it for me. It’s selfish. I told you, I’m not brave.”

Rhys ran a hand through his hair and frowned at me.

“This is not what I was expecting you to say.”

And even though we’d fought, and even though we were having a serious conversation, I laughed. Because it was so very like Rhys to be open to hearing my darkest secrets and also think he should know what they would be.

“That’s my whole point,” I said, laughing.

“What?” There was a smile in his eyes. He wanted to laugh. Rhys would always choose laughter when he could.

“You expect these things. That the world’s a certain way. And I don’t ever want to . . . disillusion you.”

Rhys gaped. “Well . . . well . . . well, stop it,” he said finally. I dropped my head back onto his shoulder. If only it were that easy.

“Okay, will you promise me something?” Rhys said after a while. “I need to think more about what you just said. But I want you to promise me no more lies. I know that some things are private, and I’ve never wanted to push you to tell me things that you don’t want to share. But now I think maybe in not pushing you, I made you think I couldn’t handle hearing about things. And that’s not true.”

My heart pounded. No more lies meant stripping myself bare before him and hoping he could live with what he saw. I flinched at the thought of the moment his eyes would dim and his face would fall. In those moments, instead of making him happy, I made him sad. And I couldn’t stand making him sad.