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Ryan sets me up in his bathroom, grabbing my shampoo and conditioner from my own before checking the temperature of the water and leaving me. I take my time, anchoring my palms on the cool shower tile and allowing the warm water to fall over my back. It takes me far longer than normal to wash my body and hair, but I soak in every second, letting the heat of the shower seep into my bones and by the end of it, I feel a tad more like myself.
Finally, once I redress, I open the bathroom door to find him sitting on the floor, his head leaning back on the wall right next to the doorway as if listening to hear if I might need him.
He looks up at me. “Are you okay?”
I nod and he stands, handing me my hairbrush he was holding on to while camping outside of the bathroom.
With shaky hands, I run it through my strands, but I’m tired and weak, and I honestly don’t care that my hair will be a matted mess if I don’t brush it.
Ryan’s brows are creased with concern as he watches me struggle. “Let me do that, Blue.”
I give in without a fight. Ryan ushers me to sit on the ground in front of the chair he has in the corner of his room. He takes a seat behind me, legs spread on either side of my body.
Gently, he begins to brush my hair.
The slight tension pulling at my scalp feels far too heavenly that I can’t help from falling into his leg, resting my head against his knee.
“Why’d you go today?” he softly asks.
“I had to.”
“Why’d you go today, Ind? The real reason.”
“Because.” I close my eyes, leaning into him. “They’re my friends. They were my friends. I don’t know anymore.”
He pauses his movements and I refuse to turn around and see the disappointment on Ryan’s handsome face. He knows, the same way I know that I’m holding on to those friendships as if I’m holding on to the life I had with Alex.
As I replay Maggie’s words of how Alex regrets the way things have played out, an unexpected peace washes over me.
Because I don’t regret it at all.
If Alex hadn't done what he did, I never would’ve had the opportunity to know Ryan the way I do. I never would’ve had the chance to be immersed in this man’s world and realize how right it feels. How at home I feel.
It’s an overwhelming realization to have, that I truly want no part of the life I once wanted.
Softly, Ryan uses the pads of his fingertips to guide my head to lean against his opposite knee so he can brush the other side of my hair.
Ryan doesn’t make me feel like a burden. He doesn’t make me feel like I’m too much.
I’ve offered him absolutely nothing other than exactly who I am, and he’s embraced every part of me, good and bad.
I don’t think I fully understood that until today.
“Indy,” he whispers from behind me. “What you offer in a relationship, as a friend, a woman, a partner, by simply being who you are is more than enough. And if someone can’t see that you’re everything, then it’s them who's missing out. I know you’re faithful. It’s one of my favorite things about you, but there has to be a limit. Some people don’t deserve your unwavering loyalty.”
Tears leak from my closed eyes, partly because I’m sick and partly because I’ve never had someone take care of me like this, body and soul. Today’s realizations are overwhelming me, and in true Indy fashion, crying is my favorite outlet.
“No one has ever taken care of me,” I squeak past the lump in my throat. “Thank you, Ryan.”
He halts once again, so finally, I look over my shoulder at him. “What?”
He shakes his head, resuming his task of untangling my hair.
Ryan doesn’t like faking intimacy, but this, him brushing my hair and taking care of me while sick seems far more intimate than anything we’ve ever done.
I’m certain the fever must have stolen my filter when I ask, “Are you faking it?”
“No, Blue. I’m not faking anything.”
