Ryan hesitated, then looked directly at her, his hazel eyes filled with vulnerability. “Because I didn’t know how to handle it. You were beautiful, Avery. You always were. But I didn’t see it the way other people did. I saw it in the way you carried yourself, in the way you looked at the world. You became my muse before I even knew what that word meant.”
Her breath hitched slightly at his words, but she shook her head, unable to let go of the hurt. “If that’s true, then why did you treat me the way you did? Why bully me if you saw all these things in me?”
Ryan closed his eyes for a moment, as if gathering the courage to answer. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “It wasn’t about you, Avery. It was about me—and my family.”
Ryan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “When I was a teenager, my dad was having an affair.”
Avery blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in the conversation. “What does that have to do with—”
“Let me finish,” Ryan interrupted gently. He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “My mom found out, and it tore our family apart. My dad’s mistress was… a heavier woman. And for some reason, my teenage brain latched onto that detail and wouldn’t let it go. I was angry at my dad for cheating, for lying to my mom, for destroying our family, but I couldn’t take it out on him. So I turned all that anger toward you.”
Avery’s heart sank, her breath catching in her throat. “Me?”
Ryan nodded, guilt etched into every line of his face. “You didn’t deserve it. Not even for a second. But you were there, and I was too messed up to realize what I was doing. Every time I saw you, it was like this mirror was held up to everything I hated about my dad and about myself. And I lashed out.”
Avery stared at him, her mind reeling. She wanted to be angry, to yell at him for all the pain he had caused her. But instead, she felt an overwhelming sense of sadness—not just for herself, but for the boy Ryan had been.
“You bullied me because you were angry at your dad?” she said finally, her voice trembling.
“Yes,” Ryan admitted. “And it was the worst thing I’ve ever done. Because, Avery, I never saw you the way I saw her. You were never ugly to me. Not once. I don’t even know when it started, but I became obsessed with capturing the way you smiled, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about something you loved. I started painting you because I wanted to hold onto those moments. You were… you were everything I wasn’t brave enough to admit I wanted.”
Avery hugged her knees tighter, her emotions threatening to spill over. “And Shawn?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why were you so jealous of him?”
Ryan sighed, leaning back against the wall again. “Because he got to have you in a way I never could. I hated watching him make you happy, because deep down, I knew I didn’t deserve you. I didn’t deserve to even look at you after everything I’d done.”
Avery’s chest tightened at his words. She had always wondered why Ryan had been so fixated on her relationship with Shawn, and now she finally understood.
“I thought you hated me,” she said quietly, her voice breaking.
“I hated myself,” Ryan said, his tone raw. “And I let that ruin everything. But, Avery, you need to know that you were never the problem. You were always perfect to me. That’s why I couldn’t stop painting you. It was my way of holding onto something I thought I could never have.”