Come Break My Heart Again by C.W. Farnsworth

Chapter Twenty-One

Ipick up my legal pad and start out of the conference room, tapping a pen against the paper in time with each step.

“Hi, Eleanor.” Josh Andrews, one of the junior partners, falls into step beside me. “How have you been?”

“Good, Josh. How about you?”

“Not bad, not bad.”

“Great.”

There’s a pause. We’ve never done more than exchange pleasantries before. This is uncharted territory.

“I was sorry to hear about you and William.”

“Thanks. Good to know we surpassed associate-level gossip.”

Josh smiles. “Yeah… nothing to worry about there.”

“That’s what I figured.” It’s not that big of a firm, and both our fathers work here. People were bound to talk about mine and William’s break-up. “Probably why you’re not supposed to date co-workers.” I let out a small, wry laugh.

“So, you’d say you’re opposed to dating co-workers now?” Josh asks. I’m hoping I’m imagining the flirtatious tone in his voice, but when I glance over, he’s sporting a sly smirk.

“Yeah. I’d say I’m pretty opposed,” I reply, giving him an apologetic smile.

“Maybe you haven’t met the right co-worker yet.” His answering smile is confident.

I’ve learned my lesson about not being up-front with people. “I don’t think that’s it.” My tone is polite, but firm.

We round the corner that leads to the summer associate cubicles, and I stall in place. Josh gives me a questioning look. He hasn’t noticed the figure leaning against the fourth one down. Against my cubicle.

“Nice talking to you, Josh,” I say robotically. My eyes are locked on the tall frame looking down at the papers on my desk. I don’t wait to see if Josh replies. I walk forward hesitantly, right past William’s accusing eyes.

“What are you doing here?” I ask as soon as I reach him.

Ryder straightens and turns. He doesn’t say anything at first, just studies me. I’m well aware I don’t look great. It’s been five days since Eliza and Tommy’s wedding. Since I woke up early, heaped apologies on both of them, and then left the hotel two hours before the post-wedding brunch was set to start to avoid seeing anyone else. I’ve spent most of the past few days here, returning home only to sleep. Or rather, to toss and turn and replay the words I screamed at him in an endless loop in my head. I don't regret what I said. I do wish it had gone down in private. I’ve gotten an endless stream of texts from my friends checking in on me ever since. I also wish Ryder had said a single thing in response.

“Here.” Ryder holds the stack of manilla folders he’s holding out for me. I accept them hesitantly. They’re worn. Faded. Scribbled on. Torn.

“What is this?” None of them are clearly labeled.

“My case file. All of it they’d give to me, at least.”

I stare at him. “What? Why?”

He shrugs. “You were right. You deserve to know. But—” His expression hardens. “It’s not going to change anything, okay?”

“I don’t want to read a police report.” I hold the papers back out to him.

A muscle works in his jaw as he takes them. “Have you or have you not been badgering me about telling you what happened that night for the past three months?”

“Yeah. You telling me what happened. Not a stack of folders.” I’m done treating Ryder like a traumatized animal. I’m no longer desperate for any bit of affection or acknowledgement from him. If he refuses it will just make it easier to finally move on. I hope.

He seems to realize the same, and his jawline moves furiously. “Fine.”

My heart leaps, but I take a page out of his book and keep my expression inscrutable. “Fine.”

“Not here.”

He wants to be able to bolt if this goes badly. I consider arguing, but don’t. This is a conversation best had in a neutral space.

“Okay. Just let me grab my stuff.” I dump the legal pads I’m holding on my desk and retrieve my purse from the floor, double-checking my phone is inside. “Ready.”

Ryder’s already in motion, heading in the direction of the elevators. I roll my eyes and follow. He’s got the button pushed by the time I reach him.

“How did you get up here?” I ask. “They’re supposed to call up with any visitors.”

Ryder holds up the stack of folders. “Said I was a messenger from Lane, Street, and Avenue and had an urgent delivery for you.”

I wasn’t planning to smile, but it slips out anyway. “Lane, Street, and Avenue? What’s your address?”

“We’re centrally located on I Didn’t Think He’d Ask That Drive.”

I roll my eyes as the elevator dings and we step inside. “Lobby, please,” I tell the attendant.

The descent down to the lobby is silent. The only sound is the wild beat of my heart. It whooshes in my ears. Answers. I’m about to get answers. We walk through the lobby side by side. My heels click on the marble. Then, we’re outside. On the busy, hot street. There’s a hot dog cart parked just outside the building’s entrance, and the scent of cooked meat permeates the air. Ryder sets off for the raised bed of flowers that lines the entrance to the building, and I trail after him. He stops once he reaches the cement edge, and I stall to a halt as well. Sweat drips down my spine, both in response to the heat and what is about to happen.

“What do you remember? About that night?” Ryder asks without preamble. When not ardently attempting to avoid a subject, he’s pretty direct.

I glance at him and then back to the sidewalk. “Not… much. I was annoyed with you, from the argument we had about you playing football. For not telling me you’d decided to play. I drank more than I normally did. We flirted. Danced.”

A small, involuntary smile twists my lips upward. Even after all the horrible things that followed, those moments still matter to me.

“I told you to meet me upstairs,” I whisper, remembering this recollection doesn’t have a happy ending. “I ran into Paige and then Danielle. Got delayed. Someone yelled the cops were here. Things got chaotic, and then that’s all there was. Chaos.”

“I went upstairs to wait for you,” Ryder tells me. He clears his throat, and I tense, reacting to what I know is coming. “I opened the door to one of the bedrooms, and Liam was on top of her. I—” He clears his throat again. “Do you remember what you were wearing that night?”

A sickly, heavy realization slithers its way into my stomach. “You thought it was me,” I whisper.

Ryder nods. “There was just one lamp on. I couldn’t really see her. I just saw that dress and I—I lost it. I got in a couple good punches before I even realized it was Liam. One of the football guys—Steve—heard the commotion and came in. Kennedy wasn’t even conscious. It was pretty obvious what had happened to her. Other people started coming in, trying to wake her up. The cops showed up, and it was chaos for a bit. Someone told them Steve, Liam, and I were the ones in the room with her. We got taken to the station. I was there for hours until a couple of detectives came in. Started asking me all these questions about Kennedy: how I knew her, if we’d ever had sex, stuff like that. That’s when I realized they thought I’d done it. They told me both Steve and Liam said they’d seen me assaulting her. They also had all these files on me, shit from Florida. They told me no one would believe I hadn’t done it, and I believed them.”

“I would have believed you.”

“I know. It wouldn’t have changed anything. Would have only dragged you into it.”

“There was a rape kit, Ryder!”

“Because physical evidence always gets tested? You’re a lawyer, Elle, come on.”

“You didn’t even want to try?”

“I’d done plenty of illegal shit, Elle. It probably would have caught up with me one way or the other.”

“If they’d had any evidence of that they would have charged you with that, too.”

“Maybe,” Ryder admits. “I didn’t know if they did or didn’t. Wasn't exactly in a position to be making demands.”

“So you just gave up.”

“I could have rolled the dice and gotten forty, or take the ten.”

“But you didn’t do it!” I explode.

“I spent my whole life being told I’d probably end up in prison, Elle. The truth doesn’t always matter in a courtroom. It was my decision, and I can’t change it.”

“You decided wrong.”

“It’s my life.”

“But it affected mine. A lot, Ryder. Then. Now.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that the other night.” And… apparently that’s the only response screaming at him on the sand is going to get me. Glad I didn’t opt for a subtler approach.

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

“What do you want me to say?”

I huff out a sigh that’s almost a sob. He meant it when he said it wouldn’t change anything. I told him I couldn’t move on until I knew the truth, and now that I do, I know he was right at all along.

How it happened doesn’t really matter. It happened and neither of us can change it.

I thought he needed to tell me in order for me to move on.

He already has.

“Nothing,” I answer. The solitary word hovers between us. “I don’t need you to say anything at all.”

I turn to start walking away, but Ryder surprises me by grabbing my arm. “Elle…”

I whirl back around. “Do you blame me? For being the reason you were at that party? For asking you to meet me upstairs? For being the reason Liam had it out for you? For not visiting you in jail?”

Ryder’s head snaps back. “What? No. Of course not.”

“Then why have you been pushing me away every chance you get?”

“You were engaged.”

“I’m not anymore.”

“Our lives are too different. Especially now.”

“What about what I told you at the beach?”

This time I get a reaction. Ryder pulls in a shaky breath accompanied by a flash of what looks an awful lot like uncertainty in his green eyes.

So, I press on. “You broke my heart. Maybe that means you’re the only one who can put it back together again.”

“Or it means I’m the last person who should.” Pressed too far, clearly.

“Shouldn’t that be my decision to make?”

I’m not sure why Ryder stopped me from leaving a minute ago, but I’m fairly certain he’s regretting it right now. I’m bracing myself for another rejection, so I’m surprised when he finally responds. “I don’t know.”

But it’s not enough. I yank my arm out of his grip. “Well, I’m sick of waiting for you to figure it out.”

I stride back toward the entrance to the building.

Wishing I wasn’t so reluctant to leave.

* * *

The entirety of my afternoon is taken up by a deposition that stretches into the early hours of the evening. I’m prepared for it, but I go off-script for several of the questions I ask. Oftentimes depositions are a predictable recitation of facts we already know, but the ones with curveballs are my favorite. I’m good at thinking on my feet, and the third-year associate I was partnered with compliments me as we leave the conference room we’ve spent the past eight hours in.

“Thanks, Mary,” I reply. “Have a good night.”

“You, too, Eleanor.”

I retrieve my belongings from my cubicle and head for the elevators. I try not to think about standing here with Ryder this morning as I wait for the doors to open. My phone buzzes in my bag, and I pull it out. It’s Paige.

“Hey, how are you?”

“Shitty.” I laugh. “You?”

“Um, I feel like I should say fucking terrible to stay on this depressing kick with you, but I actually met a really cute guy at Campbell last night, so pretty good.”

“I saw Ryder earlier.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, he came to the office, actually.”

“To grovel, I hope.”

“I was the one who exploded on him at the beach, Paige.”

“One of your finer moments.”

“Gee, thanks,” I reply.

“I’m serious. You had no problem telling him off in high school, but ever since he’s gotten back you haven’t confronted him at all. Just given him longing stares.”

“Yeah, you’re doing a great job at making me feel better.”

“So… the conversation didn’t go well?”

“He brought his case file. Told me what happened.”

“And?!”

“He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Liam lied to the police. Steve Hastings backed him up. The cops had some file from other stuff he’d done. Threatened him with other charges. He… he was just a kid, Paige.”

“Yeah, I know,” she replies.

“I guess I thought when he told me it would all make sense. That it wasn’t just that Liam is capable of even worse things than I ever imagined and if we’d stayed downstairs, it never would have happened.”

Paige is silent. “So… that’s it?”

“That’s it,” I confirm as I step inside the elevator. “I told him how I feel.”

“Actually, you shouted it at an impressive volume using swear words I didn’t even know were in your vocabulary.”

“Right. Thanks for that clarification,” I droll.

“Are you home? I can come over for a bit.”

“No, I’m leaving the office right now.” I step out into the parking garage.

I can practically hear Paige rolling her eyes through the phone. “Right. Of course.”

“Do you want to meet at NoMad?”

“Eleanor Clarke? Suggesting we go out drinking? On a weeknight? Hell yeah, I’m in.”

I smile. “Okay. I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes.”

* * *

Scout starts barking excitedly as soon as we stumble through the front door. I had the dog walker walk and feed him earlier, but he hasn’t seen me all day. I sprawl down right in the entryway, letting him climb and lick all over me.

“Gross,” Paige comments. “That mutt is not sleeping in bed with us.”

“Okay,” I agree.

She rolls her eyes. We both know he will be.

The two of us trip and slip our way up the stairs into my bedroom. I’m too tired and tipsy to do anything more than wash my face and brush my teeth before falling into bed, still in the sheath dress I wore to work this morning. Paige strips off her top and jeans and drops down beside me in her underwear. She smiles at me drunkenly.

“You’re going to be all right, Eleanor Clarke. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” I smile back. “I know that.”

“Good.” Paige lies down beside me. “Now keep the dog on your side of the bed.”

The last thing I can remember before falling asleep is laughing.

* * *

A blaring alarm wakes me up the following morning.

“Shit.” I sit straight up in bed, shoving Paige’s arm off me. Her preferred sleeping position is starfish. I wonder how her endless slew of one-night stands feel about it.

I hop out of bed, wincing as I stand. Right. That’s why I don’t usually have three drinks on a weeknight. I sprint for the shower. Being doused by hot water for ten minutes helps, but I don’t have time to prolong it. I down a couple painkillers between brushing my teeth, styling my hair, and applying a light layer of make-up.

Paige is sitting up in bed petting Scout when I emerge into my bedroom wrapped in a towel. She eyes me. “How are you feeling?”

“Headache and I’d kill for two more hours of sleep.” Pretty sure she meant emotionally, but she lets my answer slide with a nod before heading into the bathroom.

I head into my walk-in closet to change into a dress and heels.

“Coffee?” I ask the bathroom door as I pass it.

“Please!” Paige calls back.

I rush downstairs, starting the espresso machine as I pull a blazer on over my dress. I let Scout out in the backyard, feed him breakfast, and then pour the coffee into two mugs. Paige is ambling down the stairs as I walk into the entryway, cups in hand. I hand her one as I grab my bag and make sure I have everything.

“Ready?”

“Do you give all your one-night stands the boot like this?” Paige teases as she grabs her purse from the hook by the door. I’m impressed she had the presence of mind to actually hang it up last night.

“Just my favorites,” I smile at her as I open the front door and head out on the front stoop. And then freeze. Paige’s sharp intake of breath tells me she’s right behind me.

I descend the stairs slowly.

“Morning.” Ryder gives me a small smile. Not the detached one I usually get. This one has a hint of emotion. Also a touch of nerves, if I’m reading it right.

“Morning?” It comes out like a question. Because the way we left things yesterday did not leave me with the impression he’d be casually stopping by anytime soon. Or ever.

“I can’t stay for very long. I’ve got work. Guessing you do too.” He eyes my blazer. “I just wanted to give you this.”

I register what he’s holding for the first time. He offers a brown paper bag out to me. I take it hesitantly, eyeing it like it might explode.

“Uh, thanks?” I shift my work bag so I have a hand free, unrolling the top of the bag so I can peek inside. The scent of fruit and butter hits me, and if I weren’t already motionless it probably would have made me so.

“I’m not sure if they’re edible,” Ryder warns. “I’m shit at baking, and neither Mom nor Chris were any help at all.”

I have to swallow several times before I can say anything. “You made me blueberry scones?” I whisper.

“Looks that way, doesn’t it?”

“Why?”

“Because you seem to be under the impression I’m not affected by our past, and this is the best way I could think of to prove you wrong.”

“Uh, Eleanor?” I startle, turning around to watch Paige descend from the stairs. She gives me and Ryder a small smirk. “Super sorry to interrupt, but I kind of feel like maybe I shouldn’t be standing here awkwardly watching this. So I’m going to go…”

I smile. “Yeah, okay.”

She gives me a quick hug, and Ryder another smile. “Good to see you, Ryder.”

“Yeah, you too, Paige,” he replies, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets. She disappears down the street, but Ryder and I stay put, staring at each other.

He takes a deep breath. “You said I haven’t given you anything. And you were right. Because I didn’t think you’d want anything from me. I got out, and you were exactly where I expected you to be. You’d accomplished things. Met another guy. I thought maybe you’d have questions about what happened. But I wasn’t even sure of that. I figured you would have written me off a long time ago. Then, we spent that weekend together. It seemed like you were struggling, but with stuff that had nothing to do with me. That I was an escape, or a distraction, just like in high school.”

I laugh.

“What?” He’s clearly confused by my response.

“It’s just weird hearing you say that,” I respond. “I feel like I’ve spent the past couple months walking around wearing a shirt that says I’m in love with Ryder James.”

Ryder smirks, then sobers. “Well, I had no idea you felt that way until you told me on the beach. Kind of hard to miss it when it’s said at that volume.”

“Righttttt.” It’s going to be a while before I live the beach meltdown down. In my defense, alcohol and intense emotions were involved. Often a bad combination.

“And I didn’t realize until the Fourth you didn’t know how I felt about you. Feel about you. When you said I was humoring you…” He laughs. “Fuck, Elle. You really had no clue how far gone I was for you?”

I shake my head silently.

“I thought it was obvious, just like you said. Tommy and the rest of the guys certainly thought so.” He chuckles, obviously recalling jokes made at his expense. About his feelings for me.

“You never said anything.”

“Yeah, I know.” He rakes his hand through his hair, and I almost smile. “I was trying to play it cool, I guess. I figured we’d be temporary anyway. Thought I’d have a chance to say it later.” His hand drops. “Things worked out differently. Obviously.”

“You could say it now,” I suggest. Because he may be fessing up about high school, but he’s dancing around how he feels about me at this moment. Half-hearted honesty isn’t enough to move forward on.

“I’m in love with you, Eleanor Josephine Clarke. Pretty sure I have been ever since you kissed me in that treehouse while I was trying to explain Newton’s Third Law to you for the fourth time.”

I smirk and take a step forward. “You’re pretty sure, huh?”

“Completely certain, actually.” He picks up a piece of my hair and winds it around his pointer finger. “And it seems to get harder and harder to ignore every time I see you.”

“Are you going to stop trying to?” I ask.

“Yeah, it would be great if my mom and Chris would stop glaring at me all the time.”

I roll my eyes. Ryder grins, but then turns serious.

“I didn't know you started your charity just for her. Or about the scholarship.”

I shrug. “I didn’t tell you.”

Ryder’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out and glances at the screen. I know what he’s about to say before the words leave his mouth. “I have to go.” He looks apologetic, at least.

“Yeah, I’m probably at least fifteen minutes late by now.”

Neither of us move.

“Thanks for these.” I wave the bag of scones. “You know I… thank you.”

“I thought—thought that maybe you might like to get some other food with me sometime.”

I raise both eyebrows. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah,” Ryder confirms. “I am.”

After all we’ve been through, maybe I should have to think about my answer. Or maybe it’s because of all we’ve been through I know my answer immediately.

“Okay, I’ll go on a date with you, Ryder James.”

He smirks, but it transforms into the genuine, crooked grin that’s my favorite sight in the whole world. “Just wait until you see what I have planned.”

“Our last date consisted of you feeling me up in a treehouse. Pretty sure there’s nowhere to go from there but up.”

Ryder laughs. “Damn.”

“Are you going to kiss me before you go?”

“I was thinking about it,” he replies, still grinning.

“Oh, yeah? You were thinking about—” I’m cut off by the feel of his lips on mine. There’s none of the urgency and desperation of our last kiss. This one is a languid exploration. A reacquaintance.

I’m pressed against him, so I feel his phone vibrate. Again. And again.

“Shit,” he whispers against my lips. “I’ve really got to go. I’m sorry.”

“You’re going to come back, though. Right?” Vulnerability fills my voice, and I know it’s because I’ve got something to lose now.

His green gaze softens. “Right.” He bends down to give me one more soft kiss. “I’ll call you later. Okay?”

I nod. He smiles, then turns and starts down the street. I can see his truck parked a couple doors down from mine.

“Please don’t break my heart again,” I whisper.