"And yet you never visit," I remarked, wishing I hadn't said it as soon as the words were out.
He grimaced, took another long swallow of water, and then placed the glass on the bedside table.
"I wanted to," he said as he turned to face me, lying sideways on the bed, his head elevated by the pillows.
I turned and placed my glass on the table on my side and then reached up and switched the overhead light off. Then snuggled down on my side, letting my eyes adjust to the moonlight, and pulling Ryan down the bed until we were lying flat, one pillow beneath our heads, shared, our faces within inches of each other.
We breathed each other's air for a while, just staring into each other's eyes.
"You wanted to," I encouraged, giving him this chance to get it all out.
I know what it's like to keep something so monumental, so ingrained on your soul, deep inside. Even when there are good memories, the bad tend to grow in size, the longer it's kept locked up and hidden. The bad takes over, and eventually there is no good left to remember.
I have a shoebox of memories, and only recently when I retrieved them from their hiding place at the Salt Water Baths, did I actually remember there had been some good times with Rick, as well as the bad.
Ryan needed to remember the good, to let go of the bad.
He nodded, his hand wrapping around mine as he brought it up between our chests, holding it there. His thumb traced patterns on the back over my skin.
"I don't consider myself a coward, but although I couldn't bear the thought of letting this place go, I couldn't bring myself to embrace it either. It's all I have of her. But it's also the last place I saw her alive."
"The key word there is alive."
"But he owned it," he argued, his brow furrowing with anger and misery.
"He might have paid the bills, Ryan. But was this house ever truly his?"
He blinked.
I went on. "You said so yourself, every nook was her. Why else would you consider this place a link to your mother? If she hadn't imprinted on it, and you hadn't have spent some wonderful memories here with her, it wouldn't be a link. But it is. And not once did he have a part in that. You can possess something, Ryan, but that does not mean it's yours."
"How do you know when it is yours?" he asked, and I had the distinct impression the conversation had shifted somehow.
"When it reflects a part of you back," I whispered, running my fingers along the edge of his jaw, enjoying the sensation of his whiskers scratching the tips.
"What do you mean?"
"Take this house. When you look at the view you remember your birth mother. You remember sitting there with her sharing tea."
He nodded.
"The house belonged to her, legally or not, it reflects her in your memories. It does not reflect him."
He held my gaze patiently, as if expecting there to be more. I sucked in a shaky breath of air.
"What do you see when you look at me?" I asked.
"Beauty," he answered immediately. I smiled. "There, see? Beautiful."
I shook my head, but the smile remained.
"Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?"
His eyes widened fractionally, but his head nodded up and down eagerly.
"I see everything I want to be. I see all that makes up the good side of who I am. Morally upright. Strong. Good. Capable. Everything I strive to be, but don't always attain. I see it in you, and it reflects the part of me I want to be. It reflects the part of me I know I can be. If I have you in my life."
I paused, gathering my thoughts.
"I used to use confidence and an icy distance as a shield to keep me away from anything that could harm. When I look at you I see a new shield, one that embraces life with passion and honesty. I see a warmth that I desperately want to possess, an alternative to the ice and confidence. Something alive and vibrant and real."
I licked my lips and searched his face for a reaction. He was immobile, possibly with shock.
A deep breath in, and then, "When I'm with you, I am all of those things. I am morally upright. Strong. Good. Capable. I use passion, honesty and warmth to shield me from those things that could harm." My voice lowered, became a husky whisper. "Without you, I am ice. With you, I am the power of fire."
"Bloody hell," he murmured. "I so want to make love to you right now."
"Well, that's one reaction to have," I said with a huff of a laugh.
His lips pressed into mine before the laughter finished. It was in no way innocent or sweet. It was hungry, desperate, and alive. Real in the same way I felt when I was with him. It was Ryan showing me what I made him feel. What he saw when he looked at me.
"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, Marie Cox," he murmured against my lips, each word interspersed with a nip or a lick or a nibble. "Inside and out."