“Alright, then I’ll go get us some cookies to eat while we watch.” He winks at me, and I swear I have one of those moments you only see in Hallmark movies where my knees become weak, and I flop myself onto his couch with a sigh.
Annabelle places her tiny hand into mine, scooting in close beside me. She turns, looks at me, and from her expression I expect her to ask a serious question. However, I can’t hide the laugh that escapes me as she asks, “Okay, if you had to choose between marrying Aladdin or Kristoff, who would it be?”
“Most definitely Aladdin,” Ryland says to her, winking at me as he sets down a plate of cookies.
“Good, because I wanted Kristoff.” Annabelle crosses her arms and gives me a proud smile before shoving a cookie into her mouth, much like her father does at the same time.
Ryland leans back against the couch, making sure his arm is across the back so he can place a hand on my shoulder. Annabelle is squeezed in between us. He hits play on the movie, and Annabelle wasn’t lying about Ryland knowing every song. I haven’t laughed this hard in a long time, but watching him mimic the Genie, word for word, including the gestures, is the best thing I’ve ever witnessed. I make sure to record a video to watch later.
Once Aladdin sinks to the bottom of the water, we hear soft snores coming from Annabelle. Her head is leaning against Ryland and her hand is still wrapped in mine. Ryland notices and gives me a gentle smile as he whispers, “I’ll get her into bed. Want to hang out on the porch?”
“I mean, I’d like to see you finish your performance, but I guess we can save that for another time.”
“Another time,” he repeats before pulling Annabelle into his arms. “There’s some Ale-8’s in the fridge. Why don’t you grab us some, and I’ll meet you on the porch?”
I grab two bottles from his fridge and make my way to his back porch. I take a seat in one of Ryland’s wooden rocking chairs, and as I take my first satisfying sip and inhale the scent of the forest, nostalgia hugs me. I’ve always loved it here, being surrounded by these woods and the lake, a teenage boy deciphering my dreams and promising to make them come true.
Ryland slides the back door closed behind him and scoots his chair closer to me before picking up his drink. We hold our bottles out, clink them together, and say, “Cheers!” like we used to do. He pops open the lid and takes a big glub. I shamelessly stare as he closes his eyes, throat bobbing with each gulp, a joyful, “Ahh,” sound escaping his full lips afterward. He looks at me, his smile moving slowly across his face like a moonrise.
“So,” he says, rubbing his hands together and leaning his elbows onto his long legs.
“You’ve done a great job with Annabelle,” I tell him before taking a swig of my drink, savoring the familiar flavor.
“Thank you. I can’t take all the credit, of course. Mom helps a lot. She’s had great influences in her life. Pops, Zane, your grandparents…” His eyes glance over the lake, looking as if his mind is far away in the past.
I finally ask the question I’ve been dying to have an answer to. “What’s the story with Annabelle’s mom?”
He lets out a whistle and pushes himself to lean back against his chair, his hazel eyes lightened by the reflection of the moonlight. He hesitates for a moment before looking at me.
“If you feel comfortable sharing it with me,” I add, pulling my legs up to hug them close to my chest.
He drags a palm down his jaw, exhaling deeply, and his shoulders drop from the weight this topic must bring him.
“When you left, my whole world fell apart. I was depressed. Any free moment I had, I’d drown my pain with alcohol. Whiskey was easier for me to swallow than accepting that I messed up and you weren’t coming back.”
My breath hitches at his words, not expecting him to start the story with us.
“Raine, you were everywhere. Everywhere but physically with me. And ithurt. I couldn’t go to certain places without memories of you coming to the surface. I couldn’t listen to certain songs. Even certain scents brought you back to me. And it broke me over and over again.”
There are some memories that are unforgettable that remain vivid. I can tell this is one for Ryland. His choices after I left took a toll on him. It’s hard accepting how badly we broke each other.
“I met Maggie, Annabelle’s mom, two summers after you left. She was staying at the rental cabin with her folks, but we met at one of those bonfire parties people like to throw at the lake. I had no intention of finding someone else, but once we started talking and I realized she was just as broken as me, we bonded over our shared love of whiskey. I didn’t know it at the time, but we were very toxic to one another. Thankfully, she was only visiting for a short time—or so I thought.
“After Maggie left that summer, we had no plans of keeping in contact, but after a few months had went by, she found me on Facebook and messaged me to call her. It seemed urgent, so I did, and that was when she told me she was pregnant.”
Ryland’s face falls, and he runs a hand through his hair. His eyes find mine again, and my chest tightens. Ryland places his elbows on his legs, his hands folded together, as he continues.
“I was so scared. I kept thinking, who am I to try to raise a kid? What if I ended up just like my father?”
“You’ll never be like him,” I say, my voice sounding small.
“I was very close to being like him back then. But after I told Pops and Mom, they reminded me that it wasn’t about me anymore and that I needed to get right in every aspect of my life. They basically gave me an intervention, and after a lot of prayer and guidance from the man upstairs, I drove all the way toColorado and begged Maggie to come live in Covewood with me.
“Her family was not supportive of her decision, but my family was. So, Mom and Zane moved in with Pops and they gave this cabin to me and Maggie to live and raise Annabelle in.”
“Did you love Maggie?” the question leaves my lips. I’m not sure why I need to know, but I feel it in my core. I have to know if he loved her. I want to know everything I’ve missed in his life since I left.
“I cared. I had respect for her, but I don’t think I ever allowed myself to fall in love with her.I couldn’t.” His eyes pierce my own.
