Rider grimaced as he closed his eyes.
I sucked in a shaky breath. “Did you ever fill out those SAT forms I picked up for you?”
He didn’t answer.
“Did you?”
“No,” he whispered.
My heart shattered. “The boy that you keep painting—the one at the warehouse and at the art gallery? That boy is you, isn’t it?”
Rider didn’t say anything.
“It’s not you from the past,” I whispered. His handsome face blurred. “That’s still who you are.”
He closed his eyes.
“And you know what? This whole time I’ve thought I was the one who was messed up. That I was the one who walked away from that damn house damaged and screwed up. I thought it was me.” My voice broke as I backed away. “And it wasn’t. It was you. It’s always been you.”
His gaze rose to mine and the pain in his eyes was a punch to the gut, because he was doing this to himself. And God, that hurt more than anything else. This was on him. Not me.
It was always on him.
He put that weight on his shoulders; he found guilt and responsibility wherever he could and he hugged that mess close. This wasn’t me giving up on him. This was always him giving up on himself. It struck me then, and it took everything to swallow down the sob.
“You’re stuck,” I whispered.
Rider stiffened.
“It’s true.” I smoothed my hands over my hips. “You’ve had years—eighteen years of feeling this way. No conversation is going to undo years of feeling like you’re nothing, of ignoring all those around you telling you that you do matter. The Lunas couldn’t fix that. Oh my God, I can’t undo that. I can’t fix that. I would’ve tried—” My breath caught again. “I would’ve tried, because I love you, I love you so very much, but you have to be the one to change it. Not me.”
“Mallory.” He stood and took a step toward me.
“No.” I held my hand up and tried not to see how it shook. “You—you need to leave.”
He blanched. “I’m—”
“Please. Just leave. Go.” I could feel my face start to crumple. “There is nothing else I can say. Go.”
Rider hesitated, and for a sweet, hopeful second, I thought he was going to ignore me. I thought that maybe something I said reached him, triggered something in him and he was going to fight for us, for him.
But he didn’t.
He turned and walked toward the door, and in a daze, I followed him. I wanted to keep following him. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted him to see what I saw in him, what I knew Rosa and Carl would see if given the chance. But I didn’t, because how in the world could I fight for him when he wouldn’t even fight for himself?
So I did what I never thought I would.
I closed the door on Rider.
Chapter 36
My chest was a hollow, empty shell.
Okay, maybe I’m overreacting a tad, I thought as I stared at the ceiling of my bedroom. But that was how it felt since I’d closed the door on Rider yesterday. I’d holed myself in the room. I didn’t go to school Wednesday. Lame, but I just couldn’t do it.
The last couple of days had been too much. Every high and every low that could happen had been experienced. Love. Loss. Love. Loss again.
I needed a break. I needed quiet time. So I took it.
That was something I’d learned from my time with Dr. Taft. When things got overwhelming, when you were stressed and stretched too thin, it was time to take a breather. He was all about mental health days. I remembered him ranting once about how if someone coughed, they were given time off from work, but if someone was mentally fatigued, they were expected to suck it up.
I’d told Rosa I wasn’t feeling well, and considering she didn’t take my temperature or force cold meds down my throat, I figured she knew that what kept me in bed wasn’t something she could treat.
My chest ached. It felt empty, but the emptiness hurt. I hated that Rider had done this right now, when he had to be hurting so deeply over the loss of Jayden and I couldn’t be there for him.
Clutching the pillow to my chest, I rolled onto my side and squeezed my eyes shut. I finally realized that I’d changed and at the same time I discovered that Rider hadn’t.
I curled my knees up against the pillow as I thought back to the first day of school, to the first time I’d seen Rider. I replayed all the times we’d hung out and the things we’d told each other. The signs had been there. I’d noticed them then, but I didn’t know how deep the scars ran in Rider. I’d been so wrapped up in everything that I had going on and in how Rider was making me feel. Could there have been something I could’ve done weeks, months ago?
I wasn’t sure.
It had taken four years for me to begin the process of changing and even though I wasn’t the same girl I used to be, I was still a...a work in progress. Rider hadn’t even taken the first step.
Keira texted in the afternoon, asking if I was okay. I let her know that I wasn’t feeling well and then dropped my cell on the bed beside me.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow I would get up and go to school. I couldn’t stay in bed forever. Saturday I would go to Jayden’s funeral, and I would be there for Rider if he needed someone to talk to. I couldn’t not do that, but that was as far as I could go. I was willing to fight for us to be together, but it couldn’t be one-sided. Rider would have to fight, too.
And he had chosen not to.
My eyes were damp, but the tears didn’t fall as I whiled away the day in bed. The sun had begun to set when there was a quiet knock on my door before it opened. I sat up as Carl walked in, wearing pale blue scrubs.