A/N - Thank-you so much for the wonderfully supportive reviews, I really appreciate you taking the time to give feedback. Anyway, I wasn't going to post this next part so quickly, but the great response changed my mind. Here's the second part, all from Kirsten's POV.

One Step Forward

Kirsten

-The Vicious Cycle of Mistrust-

"I want you to come down and go over these pamphlets and samples with Ryan and I." I nervously arrange the numerous brochures so that the smallest ones are on top.

"Yeah, sure, but we just got home, honey. Is there a reason we have to do this right now?"

"I just thought that he looked really tired, and I wanted to do this tonight and I'm afraid that if we don't do it now, he will fall asleep and then…." Even I can recognize that I'm rambling, so I stop myself, slamming the book of paint chips on top of the stack of furniture brochures.

Why is everything such an argument these days? I take a deep breath, deciding not to pursue the matter any further.

I readjust my grip on the heavy books, eyeing them in nervous anticipation of how they will be received by Ryan, wondering if he'll just politely cooperate or if he'll desperately try to dodge the bullets. I know that was a poor choice of words, but I sort of feel like I'm preparing for an onslaught. All too often I feel like I'm pushing him too hard, and he repeatedly backs away from our conversations before they get too deep. I can't help but feel like he's constantly suspicious of me.

"I don't know if Ryan feels up to that tonight, but if you insist on doing this, just let me jump in the shower and throw on some sweats," Sandy mumbles, still sounding slightly annoyed following our latest disagreement. About what? I can't quite remember.

"Sure," I answer, suddenly unsure of whether or not I want to start without Sandy, or just wait until he's ready.

I don't think that I have ever talked about it, but it must be obvious because Sandy often assures me that Ryan's just defensive because that's all he knows. Then why am I so defensive about his defensiveness? Why do I feel like I'm the catalyst for his discomfort? There's nothing I want more than to treat him like my son, not question my words or actions - like I am with Seth - but it goes both ways.

I suppose that it's just assumed the parents know what they're doing. It's assumed that they simply know what to say and do, and that there's no thought process involved. I guess that I sort of feel that way with Seth, but I think that you truly have to understand a child before you can decide what's best for him. I simply don't understand Ryan. In fact, I haven't got a clue.

I know that he's kind, trustworthy, sweet and honest, and I am proud to call him a part of my family, but I can't help but think that he views me as the antagonist - the one person he has to be guarded around because it would be too easy to get hurt. Dare I say that that hurts?

Sandy seems to take the edge off. It's like when he's present, Ryan isn't quite as skeptical. I know I'm being ridiculous. I know that this is not a big deal, but for some reason, it just feels like without Sandy around, it would be too easy to say something that might be considered overbearing, pushy, or just too much. It's almost like our concern for his well-being only serves to add another brick to his wall of defensiveness.

I realize that I'm going to be doing the majority of the talking, but he barely spoke two words the entire weekend and I can't help but feel like he isn't at all comfortable expressing himself in my presence. For example, his complete denial that anything was wrong at that rest stop - dismissing my concern immediately. It's like he's terrified to feel around me.

I don't want to scare him by coming on too strong, but at the same time, I don't want to let this distance between us dictate how we act and react toward each other. If that was Seth at that rest stop today, I wouldn't have thought twice about checking him out, checking his temperature, asking and re-asking about his well-being. And it's not that I don't care about Ryan's well-being, it's just that I feel like he goes out of his way to avoid my concern because there's nothing that makes him more uncomfortable. So why does my comfort make him uncomfortable? It's a vicious cycle of mistrust.

I can hear the shower still running, and decide to at least take the material that's making my arms cramp down to the kitchen to prepare for my presentation.

I slam the books down on the counter in relief, stretching my arms to alleviate the cramped sensation. I glance around quickly; it doesn't appear as though Ryan has come back over.

I decide that the best way to present the numerous books containing their mind-boggling and overwhelming mounds of information, would be to lay it all out on the kitchen table.

Grabbing the three paint sample booklets, I arrange them in a neat row. Something in my peripheral vision catches my eye, causing me to jerk my head to the right. My heart sinks to my knees when I register the sight in front of me.

An obviously exhausted Ryan is passed out on the couch, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest as if to protect himself from a threatening presence. His posture would indicate that sleeping was not on his agenda, otherwise he surely would have found a more comfortable position - not to mention removed his shoes.

I take a couple cautious steps in his direction, but immediately realize that if he didn't wake up when I slammed my load of ammunition on the counter, he is surely in too deep a sleep to be awoken by a few, cracking floorboards.

His face is pale and drawn, and it's obvious that he's not feeling up to par. My heart screams, pushing me to approach him, brush his hair off his forehead, whisper reassuring, motherly phrases while assisting him into a more comfortable position - but my mind holds strong, internally knowing that he would do anything within his power to avoid any form of sympathy or attention.

It's an inner struggle that leaves me more uncertain than I have ever been before. I don't want it to be like this. I don't want to make him feel like a guest, like a prisoner, like a burden - but there's only so much rejection I can take.

I can't help but feel jealous of Seth and Ryan's relationship. Seth seems to have no qualms about speaking his mind and imposing his thoughts and opinions on Ryan - forcing him to become a part of this family. They are so comfortable with each other, and pangs of envy vibrate through my chest because my seventeen year old son has been more successful at communicating than I have.

Sandy feels comfortable disciplining him, Seth feels comfortable pressing him for answers, and I just sit and watch the entire scene unfold. It breaks my heart and there's nothing I can do about it.

Ryan's chest jolts and I tense in anticipation, knowing that if he woke to find me staring at him, it would only serve to embarrass him further - and myself, I suppose. Frozen in my state of uncertainty, I hold my breath and wait until his own breathing regulates once again. His head is tilted back at such an angle that I can only imagine the kink that will ensue when he does awake. I watch his chest rise and fall and am overwhelmed by a feeling of guilt.

With a sigh, I retreat into the kitchen, realizing that the remodeling plans will just have to wait until my audience is more coherent. Sandy strolls in as I'm restacking my ammo, his hair wet and slicked back revealing a questioning arc from his infamous eyebrows.

I smile slyly and motion toward the exhausted teenager who's passed out on the couch.

Sandy sighs. "Poor kid. He's really not feeling well. I wish he would have said something earlier…." He trails off, obviously enraptured by his own thoughts.

Defeated, I lean on the counter, placing my head in my hands and rubbing circles over my temples with my forefingers.

I feel a hand wrap around my waist and a gentle kiss being placed on the top of my head. In a strange way, it makes me feel like I'm not in this battle alone. Somehow, we are all in this together.