by K. Webster
Donnie sighs into the phone. “Man, she texted me and said she was safe but not to reply back because she wasn’t going to be able to respond.”
I have no words because I am so fucking furious. Angrily, I hang up without saying goodbye. Seconds later, a text pops up from Donnie with the phone number.
Everyone begins unloading the plane, so I pull on my backpack and stand, eagerly waiting to exit. Once I’ve hustled out of the plane and down the hallway into the airport, I dig my phone from my pocket and dial the number.
“Hello?” a woman answers.
“Uh, hi. My name is Chaz Montgomery with The Aces. I was wondering if you knew the whereabouts of Taylor Ryan,” I say as calmly as possible.
I hear some shuffling. “Hold on a second,” she whispers. Seconds later, the shuffling is silenced and she speaks louder. “I’m her mother, Terry. Listen, I don’t know what she’s told you, but I’m at the hospital with her and—”
“What? She’s in the hospital? Tell me which one and what room. I’m on my way.”
She sighs in defeat but rattles off the information. “Son, she’s a mess.”
Gulping, I thank her for the hospital details and hang up. I couldn’t bring myself to ask any more questions.
I hustle through the airport, and I’m temporarily blinded by the sun when I emerge. Thankfully, a cab sits idle on the curb, waiting for anyone to hop in. I wrench the door open and slide in. After I tell him which hospital, he maneuvers quickly through the streets.
What is wrong with my angel? My heart is sick. Sick to fucking death with worry. Does she have some disease? Fucking cancer like Bobby’s dad did? Please fucking no. I need her like I need air.
“We’re here, sir,” the cab driver announces.
I shove a hundred-dollar bill at him and hop out. It doesn’t take me long to find where to go, and soon, I’m riding an elevator to the floor she’s on. When the doors slide open, I make a beeline toward her room. I’ve just made it to the door when some guy in a polo shirt stops me by grabbing my arm.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he demands.
I yank my arm away so I can face off with the fucker who’s at least two inches shorter and has a whole hell of a lot less muscles than I do. The way he eyes me with disgust makes me want to punch him in the fucking nose.
“I’m going to see Ryan. What the fuck is it to you?” I snarl.
When he bows his chest up to me, I know it’s about to go down with fists.
“Chaz?” a woman asks.
I spin around to face an older-looking version of Ryan. Her mother.
“Terry?”
“Come here, son,” she says and pulls me in for a hug. I allow her to hug me, but I’m too rattled return the sentiment.
“Where is she?”
“She’s inside. Listen, before you go in there—” she starts, but the jackass interrupts her.
“He’s not going inside there with MY family,” he snaps.
Terry lets go of me to face the fucking idiot. Ryan’s family? What the fuck have I gotten myself into?
“Jason, so help me, you better shut up and sit down. He’s fine and you know it. Everyone is stressed here. Don’t make it worse.”
He has the decency to obey her as he huffs and falls into a chair. I start for the door but halt at her words.
“Chaz, I know you’re going in there with good intentions, but be prepared that she isn’t herself right now.”
I nod and slowly push open the hospital door. The room is dark aside from a small light over the bed—a bed she’s curled up in, fully clothed, next to someone. As I quietly step closer, my heart stops in my chest. A small child lies beside her—not much older than three or four. A thick, white bandage is wrapped around his head. He appears to be sleeping, as does she.
Soundlessly, I walk over to the bed and stand behind her. Her face is red and swollen from crying. My heart fucking breaks to see her small arm wrapped protectively around the child. Her child. Her love. Her other piece of herself. Her mountain.
I blink away the tears that threaten my eyes. I’m not the pussy crybaby in the group—that’s Bobby. But something about seeing this child asleep in his mother’s arms… It’s fucking gutting.
I’m startled when a hand touches my shoulder. I turn to see Terry regarding me sadly. She thrusts a tissue at me. It’s only then that I realize I’ve joined the ranks of Bobby.
“Thanks,” I whisper hoarsely.
She motions for me to come sit with her on the sofa. I follow and take a seat beside her.
“What happened? How am I just now finding out she has a kid?” I ask quietly.
Terry smiles tightly at me. “Chaz, my little girl has always dreamed of being in a band. When most girls were boy-crazy and wanted to be cheerleaders, my girl worked diligently in orchestra, learning to play her double bass. That thing was a nightmare to lug around.” She chuckles softly.
I smile as I imagine a tiny little blonde trying to carry around an instrument that weighed more than she did.
“When high school ended, she took a scholarship to NAU here in Flagstaff. She was so serious about her music. A couple of years in, she met Jason.”
I tense up at the name of her ex but don’t say anything so she can continue.
“They fell madly in love. Suddenly, the boy-crazy girl came out and my daughter let her studies slip. She spent every waking minute with him. The day she came home to tell me she was pregnant and quitting school, I cried for her. When she told me that she was also marrying Jason, I begged her not to. I could see he was just her first love but not her last one. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see that.”
She frowns and I take a deep breath.
“So, she and Jason were married by the judge, and nine months later, she presented me with Jacob.” Her eyes fill with tears, and she dabs them with her tissue after she steals a glance over at him.
“A lot makes sense now,” I mumble.
She smiles apologetically at me but continues her story. “My little Jacob became my entire world. And my daughter was really good at being a mom. She’s always made me so proud. If her heart is involved, she performs beautifully.”
I think back to last night. She owned the stage with her presence. Whether she sings or plays bass, she’s amazing.
“Well, a couple of years into their marriage, she and Jason began fighting—a lot. He thought she should get a job. But when she’d interview for one, he would tell her that he really preferred her at home, taking care of their son. Jason is a good guy—just not for my little girl. One day, he came home from work, business as usual, and slapped down a folder with divorce papers in it.”
I clench my teeth together in anger. What sort of asshole does that to his wife?
“Ryan was devastated. She moved back in with me. I’m a director at a day care, so she took a job with me being that she could work and still be with Jacob all day. Even though Ryan and Jason were divorced, they still had to communicate where Jacob was involved. My little grandson loves his daddy dearly, but he doesn’t understand that his daddy divorced his momma so he could sleep with the office hussy without guilt.”
I ball both of my hands into fists. That guy out there deserves a fucking beating.
“So, fast forward to more recently. One day, Ryan comes home bursting at the seams with excitement. The Aces were hiring a bassist. She was beyond thrilled, considering that was her favorite band. I encouraged her to do it, telling her that, between Jason and me, we could take care of Jacob during the tour if she were hired. Of course she got the job, just like I knew she would. All was fine and dandy until she got ready to actually leave for the tour. The idea of leaving her boy for a few months killed her. But when I reminded her that she was also doing this for his future, she reluctantly agreed.”
She frowns and folds her hands neatly in her lap.
“The guilt from leaving him consumed her. She tried at every opportunity to call and talk to him. When I asked her about
what you all thought about the cute little guy, she informed me that she was keeping her personal life separate from work. I didn’t agree with her mentality but tried to support her the best I could. Jacob was handling it all very well, only having occasional tearful episodes. But then the accident happened.”
Tears roll down her cheeks, and I place my hand over her clasped ones. “What accident?” I probe.
She sniffles. “He was over at Jason’s when their puppy Freckles ran out the front door. Jason went to go after the dog, but his work phone called and he had to take it. Jacob followed the puppy right into the street. They were both struck by a car. Freckles was killed on impact, but thank the Lord in heaven, my grandson was not.”
She pauses to let the tears roll down. I want to vomit. My sweet little angel has her own baby angel who was nearly killed by a car. I quit smoking months ago, but I feel the urge to burn one right now.
“He’s in a medically induced coma right now. There was swelling and internal bleeding on his brain. The rest of his injuries are superficial. Praise God, the doctors say he should make a full recovery, but it will take some time. He’s only three, and they heal so fast at that age. They said to expect anything from him going back to the way he was before to partial paralysis or slurred speech as a lasting effect from the accident. Right now, they’re waiting for the swelling to subside before they try to pull him out of it. My sweet girl has been there by his side since the moment she got here today. I know she feels guilty for leaving him, but his getting hurt was not her fault.”
I run my hands through my hair. If I could fucking fix him for her, I would.
When she stirs on the bed, I bounce to my feet and stalk over to her. Then I brush the hair out of her eyes and kiss her temple. Her eyes fly open and she stares at me in shock. She scrambles out of the bed and to her feet.
“What are you doing here?” she hisses.
I reach for her, but she steps back, bumping into the bed. She steals a glance at him and begins to sob.
“Angel, I came here for you.”
Her eyes dart over to mine and she looks completely manic.
“I left you. How did you find me? Are you stalking me? I just want to be with my son! Did you come here to sue me for breaking the contract?” she demands. There’s a fire in her eyes I’ve never seen before. She reminds me of a threatened tiger protecting her cub. Too bad I’m not a fucking threat. I love her.
“Ryan, please calm down. I came to be with you. We’ll get through this together. Nobody is worried about a fucking contract right now,” I growl, quickly losing my calm.
She stomps over to me and flings her finger in my face. “Don’t you dare cuss around my son. I don’t want you here. Please leave me alone.”
Terry tries to intervene. “Honey, he means well.”
“No, Momma. Stay out of this.”
She sighs sadly but leaves the room.
“Angel—”
“Don’t call me that!” she shrieks, once again pointing in my face.
I grab her wrist and pull her to me, where I trap her in a bear hug. At first, she resists, but soon, she cries into my shirt. With one arm, I keep her to me, and with the other, I stroke her hair. I whisper soft assurances to her and kiss the top of her head. If there were a way for me to take away her fucking pain, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
When I feel that she’s calmed down, I pull away to look at her. She’s exhausted. She’s devastated. I can see her being consumed by guilt. It’s too much to bear.
“Angel, everything’s going to be okay.”
Her whole body goes taut. Fuck.
She jerks away from me and goes around to the other side of the bed. I choke back fucking tears when she squeezes his little hand with a small smile. But when she looks back up at me, she’s angry.
“Everything will not be okay, so stop fucking saying that.”
The door opens and that asshole walks in. “Is there a problem in here? Ryan, is he bothering you?”
She fucking nods. “Yes.”
“Angel—”
“You heard her. Time to go, buddy. This is my family and you weren’t welcome to begin with,” he says angrily.
I throw one more look her way. Tears spill from her eyes and she looks away from me as she crawls back into bed with her son.
“Angel, no matter what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, everything’s going to be okay. I promise.” With that, I storm out of the room and leave my whole world behind.
I’m fucking exhausted. Between the tour, the drama with David, and Ryan attempting to sever our relationship, I’m done. The migraines that like to attack me at the most inopportune times are making their appearance. I can feel my throbbing headache leaving as a monster migraine moves in with the force of a hurricane.
“Are you okay?” Bobby asks. His voice is more like a roar echoing in the black pain that swims in my head.
I crack my eyes open and look over at him, wincing at the light. “Migraine.”
“Ahh,” he whispers. “Do you have your meds?”
Clamping my eyes shut, I shake my head just barely. I left in such a hurry to find Ryan that I didn’t pack for shit. If I can make it to my house, I can get my prescribed pills there.
Donnie, normally the talkative one, is brooding from beside me. He’s dreading seeing his dad. They only see each other, like, once a year at Christmas. His dad is too busy and doesn’t approve of his career choice.
“Good afternoon, gentleman. I’m Sid Mooney,” a deep voice booms, rattling around in my aching head.
“This is Chaz, I’m Bobby, and this is Dr. Jennings’s son, Donnie.”
Bobby does all the talking while my focus is on the crushing implosion inside my skull. I’m doing an okay job of tuning out their voices until Dr. Jennings arrives.
Donnie’s chair creaks as he sits up. I hate that he fucking snaps to attention when his dad is around. He’s such an asshole to him.
“Hello, boys. Sid,” he greets and then quietly says, “Son.”
“Dad.” Donnie’s response is clipped and soft.
“So as I was telling them, the case against David Melbourne is solid. I’ll need some documentation from them, but we’ll easily prosecute the bastard,” Sid explains to Dr. Jennings.
I disappear back into my black oblivion. I’m attempting to ignore the slamming cadence in my head when someone touches my shoulder.
“Come on, Chaz. I’m taking you home. I picked up the ‘Stang so we don’t have to take a cab.” Bobby says softly.
I try to blink away the darkness that creates a tunnel in my vision, but it’s a fruitless endeavor.
“Where’s Donnie?” I ask in confusion. The room is empty aside from him and me.
“His dad insisted he come home for dinner. Poor guy,” he groans.
I already feel nauseated from the migraine, but the idea of Donnie dealing with that manipulative, condescending asshole alone really makes me want to vomit.
Bobby takes hold of my arm and guides me to the car. It’s a good fucking thing too because I don’t even think I open my eyes a crack the entire way. The drive home is a blur.
“Here. Take this,” Bobby whispers and thrusts a bottle of water at me.
I peek open my eyes, confused. I’m in my bed. Where the fuck are my clothes? How the fuck did I get here?
“Did you fucking take my clothes off?” I groan and choke down the pill with the water.
“Dude, you’ve been blacking out with this one. When we got to your house, you stripped down and crawled into bed. Just rest and I’ll come by in the morning to check on you,” he informs me as he draws the curtains, darkening my room.
“Thanks.” It’s all I can manage before I drag the pillow over my eyes and allow myself to be sucked into the black vortex.
Thank God he and Donnie help me when I have these fucking things or I would be so screwed. Even Neve had enough goodness in her heart to help me through them. I know for a fact that, just t
wo days ago, Ryan would have taken care of me as well.
Ryan.
God, I fucking miss her.
Soft lips kiss me along my collarbone and down the front of my chest.
Ryan.
So sweet.
So perfect.
My angel.
I’m still drowning in the pain of my migraine, but I’d do anything for her—even if it meant suffering while she was brought pleasure. She places two palms on my chest and slides a smooth leg across my hips to straddle me.
I groan as I feel her stroke my length with both hands. I struggle to open my eyes, but the room is black and my headache only worsens. Slamming them shut, I try to still my beating heart, which is pounding in perfect harmony with the monster in my head. All I want to do is be with my girl and I can’t even fucking open my eyes.
My cock wants to play, but there’s too much blood rushing to my head—the wrong head. I want to tell her to stop, but it’s fucking Ryan. My angel. Unfortunately, I can’t get hard. I slide a hand to her thigh and squeeze, silently urging her to quit.
“Angel—”
She covers her hand over mine and squeezes me back.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you, too.” Even though it’s barely a whisper, my head explodes from the sound.
Everything is so fucked up in my head. She doesn’t even sound right. But she fucking loves me back. My cock thickens—just barely. The ripping of a condom wrapper slices through my brain.
Why is this wrong?
Why is this fucking wrong?
Think, motherfucker!
I go to squeeze her thigh again to tell her to stop, but she fumbles awkwardly and somehow manages to slide it over my semisoft cock.
“Angel,” I try again.
She sits up on her knees and uses both hands to push my dick inside her. Feeling her slick heat hugging my shaft, it twitches once in an attempt to harden. Slowly, she moves, just barely riding me in an effort to get me erect.
“Just let me hold you,” I groan in frustration.