The rest of the weekend leading up to heading back to Denver on Monday for the holidays felt like a fever dream. When I'd come back to the apartment after walking Ryder out, Andee had been standing hesitantly in the hallway, almost as though she knew what had just happened.

            She didn't ask any questions, she didn't say anything at all, she just held me when I broke down, collapsing in her arms as I began to cry. She told me it would be okay, she told me not to worry, that Ryder and I could talk tomorrow and maybe things would be different after a night apart.

            But he didn't call or text and neither did I.

            I don't think either of us wanted that to happen. He's afraid of the future, and I guess . . . well, I guess I never thought too far into the future about it. Never considered that this relationship was one that might take us into life together. That I'd be in Denver, like Bex said, studying to get a degree is psychiatry or business while Ryder traveled and played. That our relationship would evolve to essentially revolving around our cell phones.

            So, I spent Sunday in a perpetual gloom, not eating or sleeping that night, and when I finally got home Monday evening, my mother was there with open arms to comfort me too. I'd called her after it happened and Andee had calmed me down a bit, finally confessing everything to my mom that I'd been feeling for so long on a nearly two-hour long phone call. And she'd sat with me through it all.

            Now, at home, I spent all of Tuesday and Wednesday locked up in my room, shifting between watching TV numbly and crying on the bed until my throat felt hoarse. My parents mostly left me alone, knowing I needed time to come out of this trance. My mother occasionally checked up on me, bringing me something to eat or drink, but I never had much of it. I had no appetite.

            It was strange.

            When Miles died, I don't think I cried until nearly a month after the funeral, both Susan and I breaking down together one afternoon after we visited his grave. The pain then was numbing, heavy, like a weight that might pin me down for the rest of my life.

            But now, this breakup, this idea that I'd never be close with Ryder again, that he'd never hold me like he used to, that we wouldn't spend our nights together in the comfort we'd found before . . . it hit me so deeply I couldn't stop crying.

            The irony was through all these months, Ryder had become my best friend.

            It occurred to me that if the roles were reversed, if perhaps I'd dated Emerson and we'd broken up, and it'd left me crying on my comforter, curled into a ball for a whole day, then Ryder would be the first person I would've called.

            He would've told me that I was worth more than Emerson ever could be. That I needed to pull myself together and get on living my life my way because no loser like that should ever keep me down.

            I could almost hear his cool voice in my head.

            Come on Mathews, you're smart, you're hot, and you're young. Don't let that fucker get to you. You're better than that.

            And he'd be right.

            I just never imagined that I'd be the one crying over him and that the worst part about it would be that I couldn't even call the one person who could make me feel better.

            Maybe Bex had been right, maybe I had come to rely too much on Ryder.

            Maybe he sensed that and got scared. Scared that if anything ever happened between us, I'd never come back from it. Like I almost hadn't with Miles. But he saw to it himself that something did happen between us. And part of me might hate him for it.

            Thursday when I wake up, I shift between the sadness that had consumed me for nearly the past week and anger. I was so mad that I had no say in being broken up with. That Ryder didn't respect me or trust me enough to know my own mind and the choices I made.

            But that anger was enough to get me out of bed and into the shower. And when I emerged in the kitchen, I can see the relief in my mother's expression almost instantly.

            "Good morning!" She hums, a wide smile spreading across her face. I glance to the clock above the stove, registering that it's only 9 am. Time had lost all meaning for me recently.

            "Hey." I manage, smiling briefly before moving to the tea kettle, which already has steam coming out of the spout. I grab a mug and a tea bag before pouring the hot water over it and then moving to sit with my mother at the kitchen nook.

            "How are you feeling this morning?"

            "Alright," I shrug slowly, twisting the string of the tea bag around my right pointer finger. I reach up, tucking a long lock of still-damp hair behind my ear. "I mean, I got out of bed."

            "It's Christmas Eve." My mother says softly, and I glance up to her, realizing this is usually my favorite time of year.

            "I'm so mad at him mom," I whisper, swallowing hard when I feel hot, angry tears in my eyes. "I mean, he . . . thought he was doing the right thing, and he wouldn't even let me get a word in. I know what's right for me. Not him."

            "I know sweetie," she sighs. "I've been thinking, and I don't want you to overreact, but I was thinking maybe you should see someone, you know, to talk to, once the holidays are over."

            "What? Sick of dealing with me finally?" I scoff and hurt flashes behind her eyes. Suddenly I feel horrible, shaking my head instantly. "I'm sorry mom, I—that, I didn't mean that."

            "It's alright," she says, smiling again. "I just think it's time you start dealing with certain things, with all the things you told me about over the phone."

            I consider her proposal for a moment, remembering my confessing all the time I'd spent after Miles's death trying to escape. Using anything from alcohol to any of the drugs that Noah always seemed to have on him. And when I wasn't escaping, my anxiety and panic attacks seemed to rule my life, bringing me back to that night repeatedly.

            But then there was Ryder.

            And even though I'd always known him. Even though we'd always had this little back and forth interaction between the two of us. When he was there this time, it was different. I wanted him there, he understood me, comforted me, shook me awake.

            Brought me back to myself.

            Only for him to leave me too.

            "Maybe you're right." I sigh, part of me wondering then if it might finally be time to take care of myself, by myself. 

            "There are some great therapists that I've been looking at this past week," she smiles. "I'll send you the information when you're ready, and of course, if you want to do your own research, I'll respect whoever you choose to see."

            "Thank you." I mumble, blinking back another round of tears and taking a deep breath.

            "Now," she says, lifting her own mug of tea up and taking a sip. "What do you say to a spa day? We could go to the little AsLars place downtown, get a massage and a facial?" 

            "Yeah," I smile. "Yeah, that'd be really nice."

            My mom and I decide to go to lunch before our massages too, enjoying salads at a little bistro downtown. It was nice, and I realized I had been hungry after not eating for the past few days. I couldn't quite finish the salad, but I did get something in me and by the time we returned home that night, I was feeling more relaxed . . . and a bit more like myself.

            The relaxation doesn't last long though, as we return home to discover that my brother and his family have arrived for the holidays, along with my uncle and aunt. My aunt Carol by my side in an instant to attempt to comfort me along with Marissa, both of whom insist I am better off without stupid boys. Even though both couldn't stop gushing over Ryder when they'd met him at Thanksgiving.

            Eventually I manage to get away, reassuring everyone that I am alright as I escape to my room for a bath and some alone time. I'd have to deal with enough of their pressure and questions tomorrow. Only Spencer seemed to understand, just giving me a quick hug, and telling me he sees it's a lot more complicated than everyone else seems to think.

            True enough, it gets even more complicated while I soak in the tub, gazing up at the ceiling until the sound of my phone vibrating startles me. I reach over, drying my hand on the towel I set out next to the tub on the counter and then tap my phone screen.

            My stomach flips, seeing a message from Ryder on the screen.

            Slowly, I open my phone, clicking into the messaging app and staring at the two messages there, one sent right after the other.

I'm sorry I got in my head.

I wish I could take it back.

            I hesitate, re-reading the messages repeatedly, unsure how to respond. Everything still felt so fresh. I'd just began to be able to think about there never being an 'us' again without crying. But I'd still have to see him at parties and with our other friends. I'd have to figure out how to be civil with him.

Me too.

            It's the best I can manage. And it's honest.

How are you doing?

Not great, but I felt a bit better today.

Yeah, my sister is mad at me.

She's ignoring me & I don't blame her.

Lol what can I say, Rory & I are tight.

How is it being home otherwise?

It's not bad. My stepmom is paying a bit more attention to me.

You know now that I'm an invalid.

No, you're not.

You'll be back on the court in no time, I promise.

Can I call you?

I wanna hear your voice.

            I pause. Contemplating how smart it would be to talk to him so soon, but part of me didn't care. Not when I was dying to hear his voice too, to hear him tell me it'd be okay, that we could still be friends despite everything.

            It's like Spencer said, it's more complicated than any of them know.

Yeah, that'd be nice.

            It'd only a few more moments after I send the message that my phone rings, his contact picture flashing across my screen. I almost want to laugh, it's a picture I'd taken of him one sunny afternoon when we'd been hammocking together in North Boulder Park. He's wearing a pair of clout goggles that Justin had laying around their house and grinning at me like an idiot.

            I slide my thumb across the screen, answering it and holding the phone up to my ear.

            "Hey." His voice sounds tired and scratchy, but it soothes me almost instantly.

            "Hi." I murmur back, running my fingers through the bubbles sitting on the surface of the warm water around me.

            "Damn," he says. "I've been wanting to call you since last weekend, but I . . . I didn't think you'd wanna hear from me."

            "At first," I admit slowly. "I didn't. But I don't know, I was thinking yesterday about how if some other guy had . . . well, if the situation was different, you'd be the first person I'd call."

            "Really?"

            "Yeah," I sigh. "The worst part of all of this is that you became one of my best friends."

            "I know," he says, taking a deep breath. "I've been feeling the same way."

            "Well, then," I whisper, swallowing hard to stop the tears that I already know are trying to surface. "Um, what should we do about that then?"

            "I never wanted us to break up Jourdan," he says instantly, voice sincere. "Really, I just fucking got scared that you were going to regret not having time to yourself and that . . . I don't know that I'd regret it too. Even though I've been alone for so long."

            "But it's not that simple," I sigh, taking a deep breath and blinking rapidly as a few tears roll down my cheeks. The memories of the last time we were together still so fresh. "It never was that simple between us. I never felt like I lost myself with you . . . it was the opposite."

            "I know." He mutters.

            "I never thought that our relationship was anything like what I'd been through in the past," I tell him, choking back a sob and trying to muffle the sound with my free hand.

            "Awe baby," his voice sounds pained. "Don't cry, please."

            "I'm sorry—it's just," I sigh again, breathing in gently. "It's just, I miss you."

            "I miss you too."

            There's a beat of silence between us, our words soaking in as we both realize whatever this is between us is far from over. It can't be, not when we'd gone barely a week without speaking to one another and it'd been beyond miserable for both of us.

            It felt pointless. To resist something that I know made me better. That I know made him better.

            "So, how's your family?" I ask softly after another moment, I feel calmer now, the tears subsiding as I take another slow breath.

            "Pretty good," he tells me. "My dad is also being pretty attentive. We had a nice talk the other day actually."

            "That's good." I say, smiling to myself. Thinking of all that he'd shared with me about their relationship and how layered it'd become since his dad remarried all those years ago.

            "Yeah," he says, voice lighter. "Yeah, um, we just kind-of talked about everything, you know. We were both really honest with each other and I don't know, I think it'll be better moving forward."

            "I'm so glad to hear that." I say genuinely. "Really, that's important Ryder. I know how much your dad means to you."

            "I wanted to tell you about it the second we finished talking." He admits. "But, then I . . . well, I remembered how I fucked it all up."

            "It's okay Ryder," I reassure him. "It wasn't all you. I walked away too."

            "See, this is also what I was afraid of," he murmurs. "You're too good for me."

            "Stop saying that," I tell him. "Please, this . . . there's no moving forward if you don't stop buying into this narrative that you're not a good guy."

            He's silent for a moment, allowing my words to sink in.

            "Okay." He agrees. "Okay, I'll try and work on that."

            "Good." I smile to myself.

            "How's things in the Mathews household?" He asks then and I shrug.

            "You know," I grin into the phone. "The same as they've ever been. Chaotic and loud and full of people."

            "I miss it just hearing that." He jokes and we both laugh easily then.

            "It overwhelms me a bit," I say honestly. "I mean, I love them, but I also need some time alone. I am currently hiding out in the bath."

            "Oh?" I hear something familiar in his voice then. "Oh, I remember that bathtub."

            "Shut the fuck up." I joke, and he chuckles.

            "What? I didn't say anything crude." He insists and now it's my turn to giggle, he joins me, his laughter warming my senses as it floats to me through the phone speaker. The laughter eventually fades though, and it's quiet again then, I think both of us wishing in this moment that we'd never hit the speedbump that threw everything off course before.

            "Ryder, I—"

            "Look, I need to know—"

            We both stop, having spoken at the same time. I pause, waiting for him to continue.

            "You go." He insists, waiting for me to say whatever I'd been planning to before. Now that I'd been interrupted though I almost think better of it but plow onward even still.

            "I was just gonna say that I don't," I pause again. "I don't wanna not see you or talk to you or be around you or . . . I don't know, be without you in my life."

            "Yeah," he agrees quickly. "Me too."

            "So, let's keep talking then, okay?" I ask. "I still need some time, but . . . I want us to move forward together."

            "I'd love that." He says softly. "Whatever you need. And I'm, look, I'm just, I'm really sorry for freaking out and then fucking it up."

            "I don't wanna say it's okay," I mutter. "But I get it, so it is. It's okay."

            "Alright, well, I gotta go watch a movie with my family," he tells me then. "It's a holiday tradition on Christmas eve to watch Elf."

            "That's sweet." I say quietly.

            "Have a Merry Christmas tomorrow." He answers me.

            "You too."

            "Maybe, let's plan to talk when we're both back in Boulder after the holidays?"

            "Sounds good." He agrees.

            "Have a good night." I murmur then, smiling to myself again as he tells me the same. I hang up after that, setting my phone down on the counter next to the tub again as I sink back into the water and take a deep breath. That soothed me, calmed me, made me feel like I might be able to enjoy Christmas as usual tomorrow.

            I don't know what's going to happen now, but at least I know it's not quite over.

            Not yet.

* * *

Hey there :)

I hope everyone is having a good time wherever you're at right now! This chapter was better than the last but still a little sad. Let me know your thoughts & predictions for what's coming next!

See ya Thursday!