Braylen
Tossing and turning because I’d hardly gotten any sleep, I was startled when Kena threw open my bedroom door and barged in. Her long dark hair was piled high on top of her head, sticking out in all different directions and making her look like a crazy person.
“My God, woman. You scared me,” I cried out, clutching my chest while being careful of my sore wrist. With everything that’d happened, I knew it could’ve been worse. Never having seen Ryder in such a way truly scared me, but I’d been more worried than frightened. I’d witnessed him drunk before but never violent. His eyes had never been vacant, and I’d never seen him so . . . lost.
Someone is here to see you. He looks pretty desperate, so go easy on him. Kena knew I would shoot first, then ask questions later, so she was right to give me her warning. What she didn’t realize was that I wasn’t angry with Ryder. All of my thoughts were consumed by what had happened to him. Jagger mentioned the guys cuffing him to his bed. Had he fought against the restraint and hurt himself?
My whirlwind thoughts flipped from being worried about the man to realizing that he softened me, so to speak. My temper still existed, my protective side over those I loved still fueling my mouth when need be, but I knew I was changing. Whether or not I embraced it was another story.
Flinging off the covers, I didn’t even have my feet planted on the carpet before Ryder strode into my room. The sight of him made me feel helpless all over again, his flesh torn apart in places and bruised from fighting with his friends, and from whatever happened that had driven him to lose himself to the evils of the amber liquid he poured down his throat.
“What are you doing here?” Surprised he was even standing in front of me, especially after Jagger had indicated that Ryder would probably not want to see me anytime soon due to guilt, I leaned back on the bed, as if the small amount of distance would save me from a plethora of questions and emotions.
He didn’t utter a word as he stalked toward me, reaching me with a few long strides. His hand shot out and wrapped around my waist, hoisting me off the bed and into his arms before I could say anything else. Kena closed the door behind her as she left to give us some privacy.
“Jagger told me what happened to you. I’m so sorry, Bray. Please forgive me.”
The warmth from his body relaxed me, the all-too-familiar scent of him enveloping me until all I wanted to do was exist in his embrace. But I knew we had to have a serious talk, so I prepared myself to be strong enough to accept whatever he chose to reveal.
Pulling back so he could see my face, he said, “I would never intentionally hurt you, you know that, right?” He feared I viewed him as a violent man. In some aspects I knew he was, but never with me. I knew in my heart that he would never physically hurt me.
Emotionally . . . that was yet to be determined. He was a man, after all, and men were stupid when it came to affairs of the heart, especially one who’d never truly given himself to anyone before.
One thing at a time, though.
“I know,” I answered, leaning back into him to try and soothe the both of us. “I know,” I repeated.
A shiver shot through his body, his shoulders twitching before he kissed the top of my head. We stood locked together for countless moments, remaining silent, reveling in the comfort of the other.
The tall, muscular, tough and conflicted man holding me close had so many dimensions, some of which I’d borne witness to and some he guarded with his life, too afraid to let others see. But we were making progress. I believed Ryder was almost ready to let me all the way in, his being there with me a sign he truly cared.
Finally separating, he guided me back to the edge of the bed, sitting beside me and reaching for my hands. I winced when he touched my right wrist.
“Let me see.”
I pulled my arm back because I didn’t want him to focus on the fact that I’d hurt myself, not badly, but he’d see it as a failure on his part, as if he was completely to blame for what happened to me.
He was and he wasn’t. I chose to approach him while I knew he wasn’t in his right mind. I thought I could get through to him, but he’d been too far gone to truly see me. Besides, it wasn’t like he ran at me and knocked me on my ass. I knew it was an accident. I just had to make sure he never allowed himself to get into such a state ever again.
“I’m fine.”
“Again with that word.” A half smile graced his mouth before his expression fell back into a serious one. “I wanna see your wrist.” He held out his palm and patiently waited for me to place my hand in his. Finally, I gave in. The sooner he inspected me, the sooner we could move on.
Gently handling me, he turned my wrist from side to side, feeling all around by gingerly pressing the pads of his fingers along the area. “There’s some minor swelling, but I don’t think you broke anything. You really should have this wrapped. Do you have any bandages?”
“In the cupboard, under the sink in the bathroom,” I replied, pointing toward the hallway. He rose from the bed, and right before he left, he turned back to look at me. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Thinking better of whatever he was going to say, he clamped his lips shut before disappearing, only to reenter my room two minutes later.
“You have a lot of crap under the sink.” The mattress dipped as he sat back down next to me.
“That’s not all mine. Some of it is Kena’s.” A mundane topic, but just the kind of normality I needed in order to soak up my nervousness. Not from Ryder bandaging my wrist but from discovering what was going to happen in the next several minutes. Heck, hours, even weeks.
I watched as he carefully wrapped my wrist, cautious not to tighten the cloth too much for fear of hurting me, applying just the right amount of pressure for the bandage to effectively do its job.
His focus was laser sharp, and in any other situation, I would’ve found it rather comical. The narrowing of his brows. The way the tip of his tongue peeked out from behind his full lips. The twitch in his jaw when I flinched ever so slightly. Gone was the brooding, sometimes arrogant and infuriating man, replaced with someone who was concerned about the smallest injury, his carefulness not to injure me further mixed with regret and worry that I’d distance myself from him because of what happened. He never spoke those exact words, but he didn’t have to. He had very expressive eyes, and I hadn’t seen his tell until right then.
As he finished up, placing a piece of tape around the end of the bandage, he inspected his work before resting my hand back on my lap.
“There. That should hold for a bit. Just try not to use it too much.” His eyes found mine. “I’m really sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. I told you I’m okay.”
“I thought you said you were fine.”
“I’m that too.” I smiled. I reached for his hand, lacing the fingers of my good hand with his before scooting closer. Our thighs touched and, although we were fully clothed—him more than me—an electric current coursed through my body. Without realizing, a moan escaped from me as I leaned into him, his mouth mere inches from my own when he interrupted the moment.
“I don’t think we should.”
“Why?” I hadn’t meant to come across as insensitive, knowing he was still dealing with a lot.
“Because my head is still all fucked up. I’m gonna go crazy if I don’t start remembering something soon.” He held my hand a bit tighter before hanging his head, inhaling deeply while a hush surrounded us.
I wanted to offer him some sort of escape by offering myself to him, but clearly he needed something else.
To remember.
And I’d do my best to help him.
Lifting his head, he slowly brought his eyes to mine, his stare locking me firmly in place. The fear behind his browns gutted me. “Did I say anything to you, ya know, before. . . .” He glanced down at my wrapped wrist.
“You were mumbling a lot of things. Something about how you couldn’t do it, and that someone stole everything from you.” I wasn’t making any sense, but then initially neither had he. Suddenly, I remembered something else. “You mentioned your mom.”
He frowned and I could see the wheels turning in his head, urgently trying to connect the dots. Before I knew it, it appeared as if a lightbulb went off. He pulled his hand from mine and shot off the bed, rushing halfway across the room before stopping.
“I remember standing over an old man. He was bleeding and pleading with me not to kill him.”
I couldn’t help it. I gasped, holding my hand in front of my mouth, which only added to Ryder’s anxiousness. I knew something bad had happened, and I knew there was a possibility he’d hurt someone, but I think I refused to believe he could’ve killed someone. Denial and ignorance worked in most cases, but apparently not when that shit slapped you in the face. But I couldn’t focus on that. I had to be there for him so he could try and remember and hopefully move past it. If at all possible. I’d worry about how I felt afterward.
Thankfully he ignored my reaction, raking his fingers through his hair, shaking his head before saying, “I told him to choose. I’d either kill him or his daughter.” Ryder still looked like he was piecing together a scattered puzzle. “He begged me not to touch her. He told me to kill him.” His expression froze, as if he’d finally remembered. “It was Richard. He was the man I went to see.”
“Richard? The man who . . . ?” I couldn’t even finish my question.
“Yeah, the man who killed my mother,” he finished, sadness and anger twirling together to create a whole other kind of emotion.
“Did you . . . ?” Again, I was at a loss for completion.
He was silent for a few moments, locking eyes with me but looking right through me. I knew he needed to work up to telling me the truth, probably running through all the different reactions I’d surely have if his response was what I thought it might be. Finally, he whispered his answer.
“No.”
My lungs deflated as a rush of relieved air pushed from my lips. I believed I would’ve understood if his answer had been yes, but I was thankful it wasn’t. Without allowing one more second to pass, I deleted the small space between us and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head on his chest.
“No,” he repeated, holding on to me as if he feared I’d disappear. “I couldn’t do it. I hate myself for allowing him to live, but I just couldn’t do it.” Ryder was in pure confession mode, and I allowed him to unburden his soul by continuing to remain silent. “He said he was sorry, that he was a different man back then. That he hadn’t been in his right mind. I didn’t believe him, not until he chose his daughter over himself.”
His arms fell from me and he retreated until his back hit the wall with a small thud. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he looked down at the floor.
“Ryder.”
No response.
“Ryder,” I called out again, that time with more force in my voice. “Look at me.” I drew near while still giving him the space he needed. “Please.”
“Don’t,” he finally responded. “I should’ve snatched his life without a second thought. I should’ve made him pay for what he did.” He shrugged in defeat. “But I didn’t. I’m pathetic. I’m weak,” he muttered.
“No, you’re not. You made a choice. The right one.” When we stood toe-to-toe, my bare feet touching the tips of his boots, I placed my hand on his chest. I could feel his heart ramming against his ribcage. “I think you recognized a difference between the man he was and the man he’d become. He chose his daughter, Ryder. He chose her life over his. He was clearly willing to die to protect someone he loved.”
I couldn’t even begin to understand what he’d gone through, coming face-to-face with the person who stole his mother’s life, and right in front of him when he was just seven years of age. But I was with him now, and I wanted to help him. To do whatever I could to make him see that he wasn’t weak and pathetic. That he was the exact opposite.
He was strong.
He was brave.
He was complicated.
He was unlike any man I’d ever met.