Ryan's Bed

I shook my head. “Why did you tell me you were leaving us for another woman?”

“Because it made sense. That’s what you thought, so I just let you.” He took a breath, started to say something, and took a second breath. “I was working yesterday with Mallory, but that’s all it was. Work. And your mother and I are separating, but I’m not leaving her for anyone. I’m here for work, only for work. And I am moving closer to Robbie, at least until your mother and I work things through.”

I could feel Willow railing inside me, but I had enough clarity to know it wasn’t really her. It was me. It was the part of me that was still connected to her.

“None of this makes sense,” I snarled. “You aren’t making sense. You or Mom.” I leaned forward. “I get it. I’m not talking, but neither are you. Why is no one talking?”

I was yelling.

“Fucking start talking! Talk TO MOM! TALK TO ME! TALK TO—I DON’T CARE! TALK TO A FUCKING COUNSELOR!”

No one told me to lower my voice. No one hushed me.

And if they had, I would’ve turned on them.

This was my anger. It was deep and unhealthy, and I had it in excess.

Calm down, Mackenzie, I told myself.

A beat of silence passed on that porch.

We heard the doorbell ring. Mallory came up the stairs, glancing to us before moving toward the door.

More people were arriving. They flowed in, wearing work suits and business skirts. My dad hadn’t lied. They looked like they’d come straight from the office.

He hadn’t lied.

He hadn’t lied.

Shoving my chair back, I pulled my feet up and hugged my knees to my chest. I rested my head against them and breathed.

He hadn’t lied.

When I didn’t say anything more, Ryan said, “Maybe we should go?”

I nodded, moving my head against the tops of my legs.

“Are you going to be okay, Mac?”

God. He used her nickname—but that wasn’t fair. Everyone in my family had called me that. It’d become her nickname for me since—I felt the anger and hysteria rising up.

“You want to go?” Ryan leaned closer to me.

I lifted my head, feeling raw and stripped bare. I nodded again. “Yes.”

Ryan took my hand and led me back through the house. My dad followed us, saying something to Mallory as he passed. All of their people had gone downstairs where she’d been earlier.

“I’ll be right there,” he told her. “Give me a moment with my daughter.”

He stepped outside to the front steps with us, closing the door firmly behind him. “They ordered food from the office, so we might get interrupted again.” His eyes fell to me.

It was hard not to see my dad’s suffering. He looked closer to sixty than forty.

“If you need me, I’m here,” he said. “I will drop everything and come to get you. I mean it.”

I’d needed him when Willow died. I’d needed him all the months in between, and I would need him until I was an adult. But how could I say that when he was choosing work today? Could I even say that?

Yes, you can.

Fuck it. “I need you at home, with Mom, with Robbie. I need my family back together.”

He winced, but he didn’t look away.

I waited, staring at him.

Then he nodded. “Okay. I’ll call your mother. We’ll make it happen.”

I looked down and saw how white Ryan’s hand was. I’d been squeezing too tightly. Relaxing my hold, I gave him an apologetic look. He shook his head. He didn’t care.

“You’re okay to head back to the house?”

I turned back to my dad, and I felt that fifth piece.

“Yeah. I’m okay.” And like that, a sixth tagged along.

We were starting to go when my dad asked one last question, “Did you troll Mallory’s Facebook account?”

Ryan drove us back to my house.

It was dark, but I knew my mom would still come back tonight. Ryan asked if I wanted company till then, and I told him no. It felt right—the most it had in so long—for me to go inside, do my homework, and hope to get in trouble for still being up whenever my mom came home.

I kissed him and said, “I’ll be okay.” And I meant it. I gave him a smile before heading inside.

The house was cold when I got in, so I kicked up the heat and ordered a pizza. After that, I did what I would’ve done last year.

I did my homework at the kitchen table, paid for the pizza when it came, and I had half of it eaten by the time the garage door started to open. I was getting up, intending to pour a glass of wine to further mess with my mom, but as I reached for the bottle, I heard his voice.

My heart stopped.

“Mackenzie!”

I whipped around, my feet moving before I realized it.