Right Path, Wrong Turn

“Deryk?” Sophie calls out as she steps inside the house.

She has only been here once in her life, once when Lindsey was away for the weekend and Deryk needed a change of clothes. It had been dark then too, so his neighbors wouldn’t see anything, and Sophie can’t see much at all right now either. The door closes behind her, clicking with a heavy thud, leaving her without the mediocre light of the moon to help guide her. She finds a wall and feels her palm along it until she feels a light switch.

When the lights flicker into life, she considers flicking them off again. The kitchen, which she is apparently now standing in, is a mess. It looks like a hurricane hit, spewing leafy greens all over the floor and littering empty plastic bottles of vitamin water. She ignores it for now, heading down the hall and finding a set of stairs.

“Deryk?” she tries again, calling louder. “Deryk, it’s me. It’s Sophie.”

A groan comes from the room at the top of the stairs, so Sophie decides to check it out. When she reaches the doorway, she sees him slumped on a couch in what looks to be a guest bedroom. There’s a TV playing some kind of old Friends rerun, but he’s not watching it. His head is sunk down, staring at the liquor bottle in his hands as he itches at the label of it. Sophie takes a deep breath.

“Hey,” she greets gently, taking a seat beside him. She told herself in the car on the drive here that this visit is strictly to make sure he’s okay, and that involves making sure he doesn’t drink himself to do anything stupid.

Deryk says nothing, which is weird. Clearly there’s a lot going on in his head, but Sophie kind of expected a better reaction after giving up her night to check on him. She nudges his side and wraps her fingers around the neck of the bottle he’s still holding, and pulls it away.

He doesn’t protest or argue, just nods like he knows he needed that, and relaxes back against the couch, staring up at the roof. Sophie takes what little is left of the bottle and finds a hiding place in the cupboard of the adjoining bathroom, hoping it stays out of sight and out of mind for now.

Deryk has finally started talking by the time she re-enters the room, his voice a low, gravelly mumble.

“This was meant to be the room, you know,” he’s rambling absently. “She said it was in good proximity to the master bedroom, was the right shape, right amount of space for the crib and changing table and everything. That’s why we brought this fuckin’ house.”

Sophie perches on the edge of the bed and listens. Obviously it’s been bottled up for a while, so she just lets him get it all out.

“When we started trying and it didn’t happen, we dressed it up as another guestroom, as if people need three in one fuckin’ house or something. We stuck this couch in here, that bed, the drawers and the mirror, and we pretended this was what it’s supposed to be. Then we started doing that with our marriage. Pretending.”

He grits his teeth bitterly as he bounces his tight fist up and down on the arm of the couch. “She doesn’t go away every month to see her family. She goes to get away from me, because she can’t stand to constantly fake it that things are great, like she doesn’t hate me for not being able to give her what I promised when we got married.”

Sophie swallows very thickly and bites her lip, looking down at the seams of her jeans, keeping her gaze there as she picks at a loose thread. The guilt she’s felt from all the time she and Deryk were going behind Lindsey’s back is nothing compared to the wave of it that washes over her now. That’s how it hits her –like a wave, smacking her in the face and turning her view upside down.

Sure, Lindsey goes to visit her family for a break, but Sophie had been acting as Deryk’s vacation from life just as easily; helping him avoid his problems, letting him ignore them in favour for some fun with her.

Deryk drops his fist into the arm rest of the couch again and snarls as he pulls it back and looks at the imprint of his knuckles. “She hates me, Sophie. Whether she says it out loud or not. That’s why I had to let her go.”

He sounds in despair, like he truly believes Lindsey hates him, which is just. It’s crazy. And Sophie tells him so.

"That’s crazy, Deryk. Lindsey doesn’t hate you.”

“Of course she does, Sophie.” He scoffs. He then pauses to cough, but it sounds a lot more like he’s working to swallow a sob rather than simply clearing his throat. “After all of this, how could she not?”

The way in which he says it comes to land like a punch to Sophie’s gut, spluttering air from her lips.

Lindsey loves Deryk -Sophie knows she does- baby or no baby. The look in Lindsey’s eyes when she talks about him is too obvious to miss, too fond to disregard. She stands by Deryk with her whole heart, has done this whole time, no matter how difficult things have gotten. She is a good wife and a good person, who loves Deryk unconditionally. Sophie doesn’t, she never has, and for months she had forgotten about him in order to start something new with Matt.

Suddenly seeing it all like that, Sophie feels her throat quickly constrict. She never let Deryk into her world, but she let Matt in without even thinking about it, and he fit perfectly. She would almost be envious of how much love Lindsey has for Deryk, if it wasn’t obvious to her now that Matt has the same amount for her. Even though she did something terrible like sleep with one of his married teammates, even though her nephew and niece aren’t his responsibility but he treats them as if they are his own children.

Being with Matt has never about escaping anything, just being with him, being herself with him, and the image of him looking over to smile at her while he pushed Julian on the swing is burnt into her head, and it flashes behind her eyes.

Fuck. She can’t believe she ever thought that giving him up was okay, or that it’s alright to not tell him how much she cares about him just because finally being herself in a relationship and bringing him into her life is scary.

In the room now, Deryk is still mumbling, but Sophie jumps to her feet, bubbling with her new realization.

“Holy shit. I love him,” she says out loud, and her voice cracks just a little on the word ‘love’ but it sounds so fitting that she wants to say it one hundred times more; say it right to Matt’s face and breathe it against his lips, into his mouth, every day for the rest of her life so he never forgets it. “I love him.”

“Love who?” Deryk asks, looking baffled. He looks up at the TV screen, then back at Sophie. “Chandler, Ross or Joey?”

“Matt,” Sophie replies proudly. “I love Matt, Deryk. I love him and you love Lindsey and she loves you and this whole time, we’ve just been fucking around because we’re afraid. It’s so stupid.”

Deryk narrows his eyes at her, confused and, by the looks of it, slightly offended. “I’m not afraid, Sophie,” he defends gruffly. “I’m not fucking afraid of anything. I told you I’d leave her for you.”

“That’s just it!” Sophie exclaims. “You’re so scared, Deryk. You’ve been terrified that she’ll leave you because you can’t give her what you think she wants most. You’re so blinded with fear of losing her and not being good enough that you can’t even see how much she loves you. You’d rather her leave because you told her to than ever have the chance of her telling you you’re not good enough.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Deryk says darkly, pain and defeat soaking his words. “It’s been years, Sophie. I’ve tried for fucking years, you have no idea.”

“Exactly! She could have left years ago but she didn’t. She didn’t because she loves you, and I bet she’s just been waiting for you to see it, for you to get it through your thick head.” Sophie coughs a little and chokes on her words. “Just like Matt has with me.”

Deryk jumps up from the couch and heads for the bathroom. Sophie makes a beeline and manages to worm her way in front of the doorway just before he makes it. With his build, it’s not like he couldn’t move her if she tried, but the determined look on her face sends him a clear message, daring him to.

“What the fuck?” he yells. “Get out of the fucking way.”

“No,” Sophie says. “I’m not letting you run away from this anymore. I’m not letting you pick a different scapegoat. You need to fix things with Lindsey, Deryk. Get down on your knees and beg if you have to. She is one of the best things to happen to you, she’s the person who’s always on your side, and pushing her away is a worse mistake than screwing around behind her back. Trust me.”

Deryk snarls, closing his hands in tight fists, but keeping them at his sides.

“Get in a cab and go find her; tell her you love her, that you’re sorry, and that you’re an idiot. Tell her you’ll keep trying for a baby or that you’ll adopt a million kids with her, because she doesn’t care, Deryk, as long as she’s got you.”

The resolve in Deryk breaks as the last couple of words come out of her mouth, Sophie can see it. It’s in his face, the way his mouth falls open, how his whole demeanor changes, his eyes going soft and hopeful, glimmering.

He coughs and stutters, and, knowing what he’s about to say, Sophie beats him to it and nods.

“Yeah,” she says, sombre and honest, “I’m sure. I’m one hundred percent sure.”

His eyes meet hers, locked in and gaze steady. “Nisky better take care of you,” he says clearly. “Better treat you better than I ever have.”

Sophie smiles sadly and takes a step forward, closing the gap between them and reaching her hand up to touch his face. With her fingers lingering on one cheek, she leans in a presses a kiss to the other.

“He already does.”

-^-

“Matt, I love you. I love you, Matt.”

Sophie is practicing her delivery in the car, working over the words, trying to find the best way to put them that won’t have him slamming the door in her face before she can even get one out.

“I’m so sorry I was such an idiot. I love you, Matt. I should’ve seen it ages ago.”

She text Matt when she left Deryk’s, after helping him pack a bag of clothes and putting him in a cab, sending him on his way to Lindsey. The text said no more than, ‘need to talk’. Call her crazy, but after everything that’s happened, she feels like Matt deserves his “I love you” in person, not through something as emotionless as a text message, regardless of all the different emojis on offer.

The pair of lips, the hearts and the smiley faces; they’re not as good as Matt’s face in person, nowhere near as great as his real kisses and smile. Sophie wants nothing but realness between them now, no more hiding behind anything else. She’s ready to tell him how she feels, open herself up entirely, share her whole life with him.

With what she knows of love in her life, it’s terrifying. But. But there is an excitement running through her veins, telling her that she’s so close to getting what she wants. It’s thrilling, and each minute she drives is a minute closer to Matt.

Just when she gets ten minutes from his house, her phone rings, and her heart stutters in her chest, hoping that it’s him.

It’s not. Unfortunately, she pulls over to answer it anyway.

“Hello?”

There’s a silence on the other end of the phone, before the loud noise of someone clearing their throat.

“Soph,” a voice says, nervously, “It’s Ashley. I—I’m in some trouble and I need you to help me out. I….I need you, Soph. Please.”

She sounds close to tears, and Sophie feels the same. She’s within minutes from Matt, but this is Ashley. This is her sister; needing her.

Sophie pinches the bridge of her nose to try and stop herself from crying. “Yeah,” she coughs out, and then takes deep breath to gather herself, try and get her voice back to normal. “Yeah, Ash. Just tell me where you are, I’ll be there straight away.”

-^-

Matt lies on his couch, tossing an old baseball up into the air and then catching it again. Repetitively. He’s been buzzing with weird anticipation since he got Sophie’s text, his veins charged with a mix of nervousness and fear.

What if Sophie is coming by to say she’s chosen Deryk? What if she’s chosen none of them? Guiltily, Matt hopes that if it’s not him, it’s neither of them. He wants Sophie to be happy, and he knows she could never get that from Deryk, not like she deserves.

Another part of him is wondering what he’ll do if she’s chosen him, whether he’ll be able to stop himself from kissing her, getting to wrap his arms around her and finally kiss her again.

He tries not to get ahead of himself either way, knowing he could be working himself up for disappointment. He’s on edge, though, and when his cell phone rings from the kitchen counter (where he’d had to leave it after he checked the time and read over Sophie’s text for the hundredth time in one minute) he nearly falls off the couch.

In such a scramble to answer it, he doesn’t check whose calling.

“Hey,” Matt answers on a hopeful breath, praying that it’s Sophie.

“Nisky, it’s Sid,” the voice –which definitely does not belong to Sophie- replies. “I’m wondering if you’ve heard from Deryk? He was in such a state after the game, I just wanted to drop by and talk to him, see what was going on, but I can’t seem to find him.”

Matt’s heart leaps into his throat. “Uh,” he says, unable to manage much more for a moment. “Uh, he wasn’t at his house?”

“I don’t know,” Sid answers. “He didn’t answer my texts or calls so I just showed up, and there was this girl there. She said Deryk wasn’t home. I don’t know whether he just didn’t want to come to the door or what was going on, but it definitely wasn’t Lindsey, that’s for sure.”

With his heart pounding loudly in his ears, Matt grips his phone tightly and throws it as the nearest wall, watching with his chest heavy as it hits and leaves a dent, then bounces and clatters as it meets the floor.

There’s a girl at Deryk’s house, one that isn’t Lindsey, which means it must be Sophie. Sophie, who must have made a decision, and it’s not him.