#pt ryan

Ryan! You’d know that gait anywhere, from any distance, posture slouched more to the left than the right under the burden of his guitar case, long legs talking sure steps towards where you were perched on the covered porch of your father’s house. The second that you saw him you felt a weight shake free of your shoulders, his smile, even from a few yards away, brightening the fading light of the day. You ran down the stairs to wrap your arms around his neck, locking your lips to his as he set his case down to hold you. “Hey, Junebug,” he murmured into your mouth. “Miss me?” Always. 

Your hands moved up to take his face between them, beard longer than you’d seen it last, the hair course beneath your palms. “Missed you so much, Ryan Brenner.” You missed him whenever you weren’t together. It wasn’t often, but it always shocked you how quickly it set in. Missing Ryan was unlike anything you’d felt before, because it wasn’t a hopeless yearning or an empty feeling. It was knowing how it would feel to have him back. You ran your thumbs along his cheek, following the line of his beard, and leaned in for another kiss which he eagerly returned. You felt his hands climbing your back, over your shoulders and up to your wrists, wrapping his fingers around your wrists. He kissed you once more before pulling back, a questioning look in his eyes. 

“What’s this?” He peeled your hand away from his face but brought your thumb back up to his lips, pressing another kiss to the rough, torn skin there. He dragged it across his bottom lip and you closed your eyes, what was left of your breath escaping you in a small puff and you shrugged. You know what it is, Ryan. 

You knew he’d notice as soon as you touched him. Ryan was the most observant person you’d ever known by a long shot. There was no detail too small to matter to him. He appreciated the cracks in the cement as much as the scrawny weeds that pushed up through them, It was part of what you loved about him, this ability to see everything. Every dew strung line of a spiderweb, every shade of yellow in the petal of a sunflower, a smudged fingerprint on a piece of glass all caught his eye as much as the sweeping panoramic views he took in while traveling as many miles of the country as he could. 

He was also more touch focused than you thought possile. His hands were large and strong, built and conditioned for gripping and lifting. Hard, manual work. But they were nimble and light, and delicate enough to coax magic out of an instrument, and when he touched you, you felt every note he’d ever played. When he wanted you to, you felt the cold steel of every ladder rung he’d ever clung to, the smooth leather strap of any bag, pack or case he’d ever carried, every lever or rope or chain he’d ever pulled. Brushing his knuckles innocently over your cheek or bringing you over the edge, every touch had purpose and intention, and the things he couldn’t find words for, he found other ways to communicate to you. 

Ryan knew your hands like the back of his own. Your fingers and palms were as familiar a feeling to him as sunshine on his skin, so the hardened cracks between the loops and whorls in the pattern of your thumbprint against his lip were impossible to ignore. Picking at your thumbnails and cuticles was a habit, or a compulsion really, that only manifested when you were stressed or anxious, which meant that in the year and a half that you’d been with Ryan he’d only seen it a few times. It’s never been this bad though. His lips twitched downwards in a small frown as he pressed another kiss to the meat of your thumb. And he noticed. You folded your lips into a thin line. Of course he noticed. 

He’d only been four days behind you, staying the extra time in Morehead, KY to help his old friend Nate and Nate’s teenaged son Julian pack all of their furniture into a rented truck. You’d been happy to help with some of the smaller things- wrapping dishes and picture frames in newsprint, folding and packing clothing into boxes-  when the man, who you’d learned had been Cowboy’s cousin, had called Ryan the previous week to see if he could lend him a hand with their move. The timing and distance had worked out perfectly, as it almost always seemed to for Ryan, the trip lining up with your plans to return to New Jersey for the remainder of the summer. You would have gone out of your way to help Nate and Julian though, Ryan. You’d seen him change a tire in a grocery store parking lot for a visually stressed single mom, and you’d been there when he volunteered to carry a stack of two by fours out of a hardware store for an older gentleman who had been struggling. He didn’t have a lot to offer, but he always offered up all he had if it could help someone. You knew by now what kind of man he was, and it was another of the countless reasons that made falling in love with Ryan Brenner so simple and unavoidable; his capacity for kindness and his inability to turn a blind eye to anyone that could benefit from his help, especially if they meant something to him. And Cowboy’s family is his family. 

He would have even offered to help with the driving- Nate and Julian were moving clean across the country to a suburb of Phoenix, and Julian didn’t have his license yet. “That’s a lotta driving for one person,” he’d told you on the phone as he made his way out of Morehead. “I’d help him out but I’ve got somewhere to be.” You had smiled then, some of your anxious nerves melting as you heard his smile through the speaker. “Somewhere important.” 

It is important. And overdue. So long overdue. Tomorrow’s date had been blocked off on both of your mental calendars for several weeks, though it had been a recurring blip on the edges of your emotional radar for far longer. You knew that it was as important to Ryan that he be there with you as it was to you to have his support. Shy of a natural disaster, you knew that he wouldn’t let anything get in the way of being by your side when you finally reunited with your brother after several years of estrangement. You hadn’t seen or spoken to him since your mother’s passing and your subsequent departure from his and your father’s lives. When you’d come back home to the Garden State last summer to see your father again, Eli hadn’t been ready to reconcile with you, stating that he needed more time to wrap his head around you suddenly becoming a fixture in his life again. And his daughter’s life.  

“Because you’re not a fixture,” he’d told you. You could hear sadness layered beneath the anger in his voice as you cried silently on the other end of the phone this time last year. “You’re here today and gone tomorrow and I can’t…” he sighed then. “Natalie’s mom-” 

“Carolyn?” You interjected the woman’s name, desperately trying to partake in the conversation. But the second her name was out of your mouth you swore at yourself for interrupting him. You’d known that you had a niece only because your father had told you, but he hadn’t shared who the girl’s mother was and it just dawned on you that Carolyn was the only  one of Eli’s girlfriends’ names that you could remember. And they dated right after highschool. It’s not her, just shut up and let him talk.

“What? No, Carolyn?” He scoffed. “You really have been out of the loop, haven’t you?” Ouch. Yeah, Eli, I have. It was warranted, the venom in his tone, and you’d expected it. But it still hurt and you’d flinched as he spoke, Ryan close by, shooting comforting, sympathetic glances at you as the phone call continued. “No. Nat’s mom- you don’t know her- her name is Kate, but that doesn’t matter because…” he sighed again, and the acidic burn you felt in your heart spread at the exhaustion and loneliness in his next words. “She’s gone.” He sniffed. Oh, Eli...I’m so sorry.  You’d closed your eyes then, tears slipping from beneath your lids. “Packed up, picked up and left. Left me, left Nat… she left. She left the night before Natalie’s fourth birthday. Didn’t say where, just… just that she couldn’t do it anymore.” You didn’t know what to say, or if you should say anything at all, so you waited for him to continue, nodding to Ryan when he mouthed the question you okay? “You know, I get it if she didn’t...y’know, if she didn’t love me anymore. If she didn’t want...if she couldn’t do us anymore. But Natalie? She’s… she’s old enough to remember her. Old enough to ask questions. And I…” 

You understood. It stung, like salty sea water lapping against the small scratches on your legs and arms that you used to get from tumbling in the waves as they crashed onto the shore, shards of shells, stone and gritty sand scraping at your sunburned skin. But you understood. “You can’t have anyone else leave her.” Or you. “I get it, Eli. I do.” You had tried your hardest to keep your voice from cracking, but it fell apart on his name. I’m supposed to be his big sister. I’m supposed to be there for him. I did this. “Take your time, Eli. Take however long you need. Whenever you’re ready I...I want to try to make things right. And I want to…” You fought the thickness in your throat as Ryan came to sit beside you, finding your empty hand and pulling it into his lap. You looked down at your fingers as his laced between them, strong and sure. “I want to meet Natalie.” 

The conversation had ended with both of you agreeing to talk over the phone on a semi regular basis, taking the small steps necessary towards making the progress that you both wanted. He’d told you that he missed his sister, and your heart had caved and folded in on itself at that. Once you’d gotten off the phone, Ryan took you into his arms and let you cry wordlessly against his chest for as long as it took for your tears to run dry. “S’okay, Junebug.” He spoke softly, lips lost in your hair, the fine strands getting caught in his beard. Hands running up and down your back and over your side, he calmed your sobs until your lungs found rhythm again. “S’alright, he just needs some more time.” You slid your hand over his shoulder, curving it around the back of his neck as you tucked your face more tightly into him. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

That had been almost exactly 365 days ago, and for the most part it had been alright. You’d kept up your relationship with your father, and you had made tremendous progress in rebuilding things with Eli. He’d even sent you pictures and videos of your niece. One in particular had made you glow with a warm, hopeful happiness, a very different set of tears glistening on your cheeks as you showed Ryan the video of Nat singing and pretending to play guitar. The song was one that you and Ryan had recorded together the caption on the message reading She takes after her Aunt Junebug. 

But now that just a mere 24 hours separated you from your reunion, you were starting to feel that uneasy swimming feeling in your stomach, a tight clenching feeling in your chest and throat. You’d absently reverted to your nervous compulsion, picking the skin on your thumbs raw as you sat on the porch of your father’s house, waiting for Ryan to get back to you. Now that he was, you felt a little better, a little more ready to face Eli and take the next step in getting your brother back. It was only four days but damn did I miss him. You’d practically launched yourself at him as he came up the walkway, the pinkish light of the yawning sun overtaking the yard and painting purplish shadows on the siding of the house and the rundown detached garage and Ryan’s cheeks. 

He pressed his lips to your peeling skin again. “This because’a tomorrow?” He dropped your hand and brought both of his to frame your face. You closed your eyes as his fingers combed a few wild curls back, the tips skating over your temples, and inhaled a slow breath through your nose. Sunscreen, smoke, salt. You nodded and he leaned in to kiss your cheek. He always smelled of wherever he’d been, whether he’d been gone a day or a week or longer. His beard raked over your skin as he brought his lips to your ear, and you took another breath. Coffee, fabric softener… you felt a flutter in your chest as you caught the scent of the lavender soap you’d taken from the last motel you’d slept in. He always smells like home, too. A warm current swept around your heart as he pulled away from your face, and even though your mind was still hung with clouds of anxious doubt, you could feel him cutting through like sunshine clearing the skies after a storm. 

“I’m nervous, Ryan.” You shrugged. What else is there to say? “I just…” you sighed. “I’m…” 

“I know.” He ran his hands up and down your arms, his thumbs tracing the thin skin on the underside of your forearms. It soothed you almost instantly, and you knew that he knew it would. “I know you’re nervous. I know this means a lot to you.” He did. He knew the guilt that you carried for leaving Eli to deal with the loss of your mother. He knew the pain you felt for the last year knowing that your brother wasn;t ready to meet with you, that he didn’t trust you not to cut and run again. Giving a light squeeze to your biceps, he locked his soft brown eyes on yours. “It’s gonna be okay, Bug. He wants to see you as much as you wanna see him. You know that, right?” It was true, you knew that Eli was looking forward to seeing you again. You knew it meant a lot to your father to have his children back together. You knew how much you all wanted to be a family again. 

You knew that none of it would be happening without Ryan, and you knew that with him, it would be okay It would all be okay in time. “Yeah, Ry, I know. C’mon, let’s go inside. You can get cleaned up and…” You started to turn back towards the house, but swiveled to face him again. “Welcome home, Ry.”

He grinned and tugged you back into his body. “Good to be home.”

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