Come Break My Heart Again by C.W. Farnsworth

Chapter Thirteen

I’ve just pulled away from the curb outside my house when my phone rings. I make the risky choice of tapping the green button on the steering wheel to connect the call without checking to see who is calling me first.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Elle. Hi.”

“Hi, Tommy.”

“You busy?”

“Not really. Just driving.”

“To the cottage?” A touch of nervousness enters his voice.

“Yes…” Did Eliza not tell him she changed the location of her bachelorette party? Am I supposed to tell him we’re not going to Vegas after all?

There’s commotion on the other end of the line, then absolute silence. “That’s where I was planning on having my bachelor party,” Tommy tells me.

“Um, okay? Do you want me to try to talk Eliza out of it? She’s only changing the location last-minute so Jess can still come since she can’t fly anymore.”

There’s a long pause. “I invited Ryder,” Tommy finally says. “Both this weekend… and to be in the wedding.”

My heart leaps; my stomach drops.

Now I’m the silent one. “Oh,” I finally manage to expel a sound. “Does—does he know I’ll be there this weekend?”

“No,” Tommy admits. “You weren’t going to be. At the time.”

“He’s not going to be expecting me to have any involvement in your wedding, Tommy.” I wouldn’t—if not for the fact he’s marrying one of my best friends. There’s no way Ryder will be anticipating that after a seven-year absence. I’ve never asked Tommy about whether he visited or spoke to Ryder during that duration of time, but if he did, I’m certain he wouldn’t have brought me up.

“I know,” Tommy states. There’s a sigh saturated with dread. “I’ll tell him.”

“I went to the garage,” I admit. “As soon as I heard he was released.”

“I’m guessing it didn’t go well?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” I huff out an unamused laugh.

“He… it’s…” Tommy gives up. “You need to just let him go, Elle.”

“Yeah, I got that message loud and clear. It would be easier if he’d just tell me why,though.”

“He’s not going to,” Tommy replies.

“Yup, he said that, too.” Suspicion dawns. “Wait, did he tell you?”

“Why he didn’t fight it? No. That he saw you? Yes.”

“Guessing he put it a lot less pleasant than that,” I mutter, and Tommy laughs.

“You did just show up at the garage.”

“I happened to be in town.” I choose not to share the fact I went to Fernwood just to see him. I’m pretty sure Tommy already knows. “And I… needed to.”

“Have fun this weekend, Elle. Don’t let Eliza do anything crazy.” Tommy’s obviously unwilling to discuss Ryder with me anymore, and I can’t say I blame him. The lines blurred in Ryder’s absence, largely thanks to his relationship with Eliza, but he was Ryder’s best friend long before the two of us had ever spoken. His loyalties are clear.

“You won’t be going to the cottage?” Stupid, annoying disappointment saturates my voice.

“I’m guessing… not,” Tommy replies tactfully. Ryder’s lucky to have him as a friend.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” I respond dryly. “Bye, Tommy.”

“Bye, Elle.”

The remainder of the trip passes quickly. It takes me another hour to reach the small seaside town where Eliza’s family’s cottage is located. It’s charming and picturesque, pretty much the polar opposite of the bustling city I just left behind. I roll my windows all the way down, letting the salt breeze whip through my hair. I exhale and inhale deeply as the sparkling water of the sea appears on my right.

I pull into the clamshell driveway, parking behind Eliza’s car. I climb out, grabbing my carry-on suitcase from the backseat of my sedan. Scout lets out a joyful bark when I unlock the crate before leaping out to sniff around the hydrangea bushes. A seagull caws in the distance as I head toward the stairs leading up to the wraparound porch. Six rocking chairs move slightly in the summer breeze. I walk through the screen door that’s already propped open and am greeted by chaos.

Eliza is standing on the coffee table in the center of the living room, wearing a sash that reads Bride To Be and waving her arms around. “No! Cooler on the back deck!” she calls out.

Then, she spots me. “Eleanor!” She jumps off her makeshift stage and runs over to me, giving me a massive hug as she rocks me back and forth. “Thank God you’re here. I need some help keeping the boys in line.”

That’s when I realize there’s not just the five other women in the bridal party here. There’s a decidedly masculine back hauling the cooler out through the screened door onto the back deck.

“The boys?” I repeat.

“Yeah,” Eliza rolls her eyes. “Tommy was already planning to have his boys’ bash here, so I figured why not just combine things?”

“Why not?” I echo, looking around for Tommy. Does that mean he talked to Ryder? Is he seriously going to miss his best friend’s bachelor party just to avoid me?

Scout skitters in through the doorway, finally figuring out I went inside.

Eliza glances down with a tentative expression as he gives her a dismissive sniff and then sits on my toes. “Oh. You brought Scout.”

I roll my eyes. “I had to. William is working all weekend, and… well, you know.” William is not a fan of Scout’s, and the hatred is most certainly mutual.

“Come upstairs,” Eliza demands, grabbing my suitcase and heading for the stairs. “I saved my maid of honor the best room.” I follow her. I’ve been here before, but not since college. The whole house is decorated in relaxing shades of pastel, but I’m the furthest thing from calm. My mind is racing. I don’t even know if Tommy has told Eliza about his history involving Ryder. My guess is not. Which means she has absolutely no idea about my history with Ryder.

The room Eliza shows me to is gorgeous. It’s on the third floor, with a private balcony that overlooks the beach.

“Wow. You sure you don’t want this room?” I ask, only half-kidding.

“Nope. I snagged the master. Get changed out of those fancy clothes, and then come back downstairs. Paige is making margaritas!”

“Okay,” I agree, smiling at her exuberance. Scout finishes sniffing around the room and promptly leaps onto the bed. Eliza rolls her eyes. “He’s house-trained,” I promise.

“If you say so. Hurry up. I’ve only met Tommy’s high school friends a few times, and they’ve all been talking about how excited they are to see you.”

That’s news to me. I’m a tenuous, frayed string extending from the past. My acquaintance with Tommy’s groomsmen—who I know are all former or current residents of Fernwood—is tied to Ryder. I figured I’d be an unwelcome reminder of what happened to their friend, not an anticipated arrival.

“Okay,” is all I say again before Eliza rushes out into the hall.

I change out of the suit I wore to the office this morning into a gauzy blue sundress and pad back downstairs. I encounter Tommy at the bottom of the stairs.

“You’re here,” I state, eyebrows raised.

Tommy nods once, glancing around. No one is paying attention to our conversation. “He didn’t answer any of my texts or calls. I guess he decided not to come. And Eliza was all excited about a joint thing already, so I figured why not?” The words are casual, but I can hear the hurt underneath.

“I’m sorry, Tommy,” I tell him.

Tommy shrugs. “He’s been through a lot.”

“So have the rest of us,” I reply, before I continue down the stairs.

“Hey!” Paige rushes over to me when I enter the kitchen. “What took you so long to get here?”

“Meeting ran late,” I respond, accepting the glass she holds out and taking a sip. Potent.

“Imagine that.” Paige rolls her eyes. “So, you’re working at your dad’s firm after all?”

I nod. “Just for the summer. While I prep for the bar and do other interviews. I’ll decide in the fall where I’m going to start work officially.”

“Eleanor! Hi!” Jessica waddles over to us, rubbing her swollen belly.

“Hi, Jess,” I greet, giving her a hug. “How are you feeling?”

“Badly. I can’t believe Eliza cancelled the trip to Vegas just for me! You all should have gone without me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Paige replies. “We can’t have a bachelorette party without the full bridal party.”

I nod in agreement. “This will be just as fun as Vegas.”

“Especially if Elle has more than one drink.” Paige smirks. “Drink up, dear.”

I roll my eyes at her but take another sip of the margarita. “How much alcohol did you put in this? It tastes like straight tequila.”

“Just balancing quality and quantity,” Paige replies, which I take to mean she took some liberties with the measuring. I won’t even need a second drink. I rarely have any alcohol. Two sips of this, and I already feel buzzed.

“I miss drinking,” Jessica says forlornly. “I need something to distract me from the fact I can no longer see my feet. Been hoping you’d call me for another favor, Eleanor.”

I gulp some more of my cocktail so I don’t have to say anything.

“Favor?” Paige asks.

“Eleanor needed me to look someone up for her pro bono case.”

“I didn’t know you were working on any pro bono cases,” Paige tells me, eyebrows raised.

“Probably because you tune out anything I say about work. There was just the one. It’s over now.” I emphasize the last three words.

Paige nods once. Yup, she’s put it together. She goes home more than I do, and I’m sure the whole town of Fernwood is buzzing about Ryder’s return.

Jessica misses our side conversation. “Oh no, it is?” she asks, sounding disappointed. “Did you guys win, at least?”

“Yup. We won. Excuse me guys, I need some water to wash down all this liquor.”

I fill a glass as I greet the rest of the bridal party, then move on to the guys. Eliza was right. They do seem excited to see me, asking questions about living in Boston and attending law school. The social hour melds into evening as the sun sets above the sea, sending skitters of orange and pink sunbeams sparkling across the surface of the waves.

Everyone gravitates to the formal dining room for dinner. Eliza ordered take-out from a local restaurant, and there’s a delicious array of food that’s been transferred to ceramic serving dishes.

We’re halfway through eating dinner when the front door opens, halting the amiable chatter. Thanks to the open floor plan, there’s a clear line of sight to the entryway from the table.

“Hey, Tom—” Ryder appears in the foyer, spots me, and stops talking.

I hate how I’m not annoyed he’s so late. Pissed he showed up at all. Nope, I’m experiencing a wave of excitement that he’s here.

“What are you doing here?” Ryder asks, looking straight at me. Guess we’re going antagonistic right out of the gate. Not that I’d expect anything less.

“Same thing as you would be my guess.” I take a sip of margherita, just for something to do. Scout jolts to attention from his spot on the living room rug when I speak, racing over to the intruder.

“Scout. Leave it!” I call. But my dog’s not listening. Or barking. Or jumping. He’s wagging his tail and rubbing against Ryder’s legs. “Scout!” He ignores me completely, too enthralled by encountering another human he likes. I grit my teeth. Of course it would be Ryder.

“Ryder! You made it!”

Tommy leaps up from the table in an overdone attempt to dismiss the tension and confusion swirling through the room. He bounds over to Ryder’s side. Ryder stops petting Scout and says something to him that causes Tommy to shift uncomfortably. I’d bet my newly minted law degree it was about me. The rest of the men all head over to greet Ryder as well.

I can feel Eliza’s eyes on me. Along with the rest of the women. Especially Paige’s. And Jessica’s. Guessing she’s put together who the Ryder I called her about is. I keep my gaze focused on my linguine as I swirl strands of pasta around my fork.

Footsteps near the table.

“Hi, Eliza. It’s nice to finally meet you,” Ryder says. “I’m Ryder.”

I finally look up. Eliza is glancing between the two of us, questions written all over her face. “Hi, Ryder. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Ryder continues introducing himself around the table, even to Paige. He skips me entirely.

I drain my glass and grab the wine bottle, only to discover it’s empty.

“I’m going to get more wine,” I announce unnecessarily, grabbing my empty glass and heading into the kitchen. I set the glass down on the kitchen island and open the fridge to survey the chilled bottles. I grab a rosé and shut the stainless-steel door. Ryder is standing on the other side.

“Finally going to introduce yourself?” I snap, twisting the top off the wine and filling my glass with a generous helping.

“Did you come down with amnesia in addition to becoming an alcoholic?”

“Fuck you, Ryder.” I can be confrontational, too.

“Rough day at the office?”

“Nope. I had a lovely day.” I take a large gulp of wine. “Mostly because I was looking forward to this weekend with my friends. Which you just ruined.”

“By not introducing myself to a girl I’ve known since I was fourteen?!”

“By showing up here!”

“At my best friend’s bachelor party? I still don’t know what the fuck you’re doing here!”

I sigh deeply. “Eliza was my freshman year roommate. She visited me and Paige in Fernwood one summer. It’s how she met Tommy.”

Ryder shakes his head a couple of times before he rakes a hand through his hair and then walks over to the cabinet, pulling a plate out. I stalk out of the kitchen, bottle in one hand and glass in the other. Based on the awkward looks I’m getting, I’m pretty sure everyone overheard our kitchen conversation.

Ryder follows me out of the kitchen and fills his plate with food.

“So, Ryder. You grew up in Fernwood, too?” Eliza takes a stab at polite conversation.

“Yes.” His tone isn’t the unpleasant one I was met with in the kitchen, but it’s not inviting, either.

“Did you like it?” Eliza tries again.

“It had its moments.” Ryder doesn’t elaborate on what those were—which of course makes me wonder if I was part of any of them.

I’m distracted from musing when the conversation shifts to me.

“How’s the gala planning going, Eleanor?” Jessica asks, interrupting the silence that’s fallen.

“Fine,” I say quickly, hoping she’ll drop the subject.

“Oh, yeah! That’s next weekend, right?” Eliza asks, jumping on board with the topic. I’d love to leap overboard.

“Right,” I confirm.

“What gala?” one of the groomsmen, Mike, asks.

“For the charity Eleanor started,” Eliza explains. “It helps women find long-term employment.”

“You started a charity?” This from Ryder. To me.

I take another sip of wine. “Yup. Don’t worry. My life is still meaningless.”

“I didn’t say your life was meaningless. Just part of your job.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first fucking time, Ryder.” I’m pretty certain I’ve never sworn in front of anyone at this table besides Ryder before, and wide eyes everywhere I look is proof of it.

“Why did you start it?”

I hold his gaze. “I wanted to.”

He nods, accepting the non-answer.

The conversation continues from there, seamlessly swerving away from me. I don’t contribute anything to the discussion on what activities should take place tomorrow. This trip is ruined for me. And more exciting than I ever could have anticipated. I’m worried that the spectacle that Ryder and I have caused has made that abundantly clear to everyone else here.

Because the real reason I started the charity?

Is sitting across from me.

* * *

Everyone disperses after dinner, most of us tired from a full day of work followed by the journey here. I know I am. I carry my plate to the sink, watching Ryder head for the porch with the rest of the men. Despite our disagreements at dinner, he seems relaxed now as he flashes Tommy a carefree grin in response to whatever he just said. I’m torn between petty relief he’s just as affected by our encounters as I am, and jealousy that that’s all I elicit. There wasn’t any casual camaraderie present when we were talking earlier.

The men disappear, and I shove my plate in the dishwasher next to the rest of the dirty dishes.

“Guessing there’s a story there?”

Eliza comes up beside me, studying me curiously as she rinses off a glass.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “There’s a story there.”

“He’s why Tommy acted so strange when I suggested combining things?”

“Yes,” I confirm. “He couldn’t reach Ryder. We assumed he wasn’t coming.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. I’ve probably said enough tonight.” I cringe as I run through some of the comments I’ve made so far. Why couldn’t I have just smiled and ignored him? I know the answer. Because some small part of me—that I hoped was gone but clearly isn’t—has always craved Ryder’s attention over anyone else’s. His disinterest has always been my kryptonite.

“You’re different around him,” Eliza observes.

“I know. Meaner.” I stick my own glass in the dishwasher and wash my hands.

She laughs. “That’s not what I was going to say. But, yeah. A little.” She pauses. “Not in a bad way, though.”

“Can someone be mean in a good way?”

Eliza shrugs. “Mean means you care.”

I don’t deny it. “I’m trying not to,” I confess.

“Seems to be going well,” Eliza comments.

I flick some water at her, and she laughs. “I don’t think I’ve ever even heard you swear.”

“What are you two discussing?” Paige comes up behind us, and I shut down like an overheated computer. Discussing Ryder with Eliza is one thing. She never knew me pre- or during Ryder. Only after. Paige knows exactly how invested I was. Has a sense of just how snarled my feelings for him truly are. Not something I want to discuss now.

“Nothing,” I respond, hoping Eliza will follow my lead. “I’m going for a walk down to the water.” I head for the sliding door that leads out onto the back deck, only stopping to snag the half-full bottle of wine from the kitchen counter.

Scout’s asleep on the living room rug, so I leave him be, heading out into the darkness solo. I cross the wooden boards of the deck and descend the stairs that lead right onto the beach. I stumble out into the sand. Not because I’m drunk, although I’m getting there, but because I can barely see a few feet ahead of me. The closer I get to the ocean, the brighter it becomes. Moonlight reflects off the waves pounding the sandy shore.

I plop down atop the millions of grains, planting the bottle of wine upright beside me. I’m a pool person. I like the predictability and the cleanliness of a constrained body of water. Where you can see through the clear water and hear the gurgle of its contents being filtered. But staring at a pool is nothing like staring at the ocean. It’s like observing an animal in the zoo versus in the wild. You can see the benefits: the controlled environment, the increased level of safety, the ability to bring the habitat to you versus having to travel to seek it out.

Benefits don’t outweigh experience. Can’t compete with the raw, overwhelming devastation of the wild.

A pool is calming. Enjoyable. The ocean is formidable. Staggering.

Salty waves pound the sand, churning in foamy swirls visible even in the limited moonlight. The horizon is invisible, providing the impression the water in front of me stretches endlessly. That it’s infinite. Fathomless.

“Contemplating a swim?”

I startle at the sound of his voice, then scoff. “Nope.”

Feelings froth inside me the same way as the foam in front of me as Ryder takes a seat in the sand beside me. He doesn’t sound combative right now, and it has the horrifying effect of not eliciting any negative emotions in me for the first time since he burst back into my life. I feel… giddy. Unsteady. Swamped with the shaky sensation of being around someone whose opinion really, really matters to you.

“So, the supermarket job? That was you.”

I manage a nod in response, although it wasn’t really a question. He’s simply acknowledging a fact.

“She likes it. Seems… stable.”

“Good.” Ryder’s family obviously didn’t give him any indication of the role I’ve played in their lives during his absence. I won’t be the one to fill him in. I can see it going poorly for a number of reasons.

Ryder doesn’t make any further attempt at conversation, and I stay silent as well. I don’t know what to say to him. How to act around him. His refusal to clear the air when it comes to our past is maddening. It leaves me in a constant state of uncertainty because I can’t begin to sort through my emotions for him with so many puzzle pieces missing.

Stubbornness has always been a strength of Ryder’s. If he doesn’t want to tell me what really happened that night; he won’t. And he’s the only one who can tell me the real reason he played the role he did.

He was right at the garage. What happened that night affected his life a lot more than it did mine. Lingering curiosity is one thing, but I know my motivation is a lot stronger. Maybe he does, too.

I take a swig of wine, just for something to do. Sitting in the sand next to Ryder in silence feels intimate. Meaningful. Confusing.

He grabs the bottle when I set it back down. I think he’s going to try some, but instead, he studies the label in the light being cast by the moon.

“This looks like an awfully nice wine to be chugging by yourself. From the bottle.”

“I’m not by myself,” I retort. “And I know it’s a nice bottle. I brought it for Tommy and Eliza as a gift.”

Ryder snorts. “Thoughtful.”

“What’d you bring from the prison gift shop?” I snap. And immediately regret the words. “Sorry,” I say grudgingly. “That was rude.” And mean.

I thought acting like a hormonal teenager was just an unfortunate side effect of seeing him again for the first time. This evening is strongly suggesting that’s not the case. My control keeps slipping, and it terrifies me. I’m concerned he’ll see how much I care. Worried about how much I care.

Ryder catches the panic that must be apparent on my face. He gives me a wry, mocking smile. “It’s fine. I already know you aren’t perfect, Eleanor.”

Then he stands and starts walking back toward the house, leaving me sitting there staring at the sea.

Wondering if he still thinks I’m imperfectly so.