I press a hand over my mouth, preparing myself for whatever he’s going to say next.
Swiping another tear away, he looks up at me as he continues. “Ren took him with us to our base, which was this big ole warehouse at an abandoned airstrip. I tried pleading with him in the truck on the way, telling him Cory was only four and he didn’t really understand what he’d seen. I assured him I would convince him to say nothing, but he told me to shut up. I couldn’t keep quiet though. I had to keep trying, because I cared about that little boy like he was my baby brother, so I kept talking and pleading until Ren lost his patience and attacked me. The others watched as he punched me repeatedly, and eventually, I realized there was nothing I could do or say to stop it, so I gave up trying. I was sick to my stomach, Zeta,” he whispers, rubbing a hand back and forth across his belly. “Cory woke up shortly after we got to the base, and the guys started in on him. Kicking and punching him. The harder he cried, the harder they beat him.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, his body shuddering, and I can’t stay away any longer. I sit beside him, sliding my arm around his back, but he pushes me away, scooting farther up the bed until his spine hits the headboard. “Don’t do that. Don’t console me, because I don’t deserve it.”
“I remember who he was now,” I quietly admit. “I remember watching all the reports on TV and crying.”
Silent tears leak out of his eyes. “I tried to stop it again. I begged Ren to let Cory go, but he pinned me to the wall, made it clear what would happen to me if I wasn’t on board with it, so I shut up after that.”
A strangled sound rips from the back of his throat, and tears are silently falling down my cheeks now too. “I watched them beat him to death. Watched his tiny little chest inflate with his last breath. Watched as his life force was extinguished.” He fixes me with a look of sheer torment, and I feel his pain as acutely as if it’s my own. “I stood by like a coward. I did nothing as they beat that innocent little boy to death.”
He leans his head back, looking up at the ceiling, breathing heavily. When he resumes speaking, he sounds different, lost and like he’s no longer here. “Ren warned us not to tell anyone, but I couldn’t live with it. Not when Cory’s mom started looking for him. She didn’t give a flying fuck about him when he was alive but when he went missing, she involved the police and gave interviews to reporters like she was some kind of celebrity.” He shakes his head in disgust. “I woke up screaming every night for a week after he died. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Cory’s face, and I knew it wasn’t right, so I went to the local cop shop and told them everything. They rounded up all the boys, and that’s when the story went viral. The whole world was in shock. Disgusted at the murder of an innocent little boy at the hands of other kids.”
He looks sideways at me, but he may as well be looking straight through me. “I wanted them to kill me, because I didn’t want to live with what I’d done. Instead, they gave us all new identities, to protect us, because we were still minors, and they sent us to different juvies. The older boys got longer sentences, and some of them are still in adult prisons, but, because I was the youngest, I played no part in the actual murder, and I voluntarily went to the authorities, I was given a shorter sentence and released at eighteen. Vincent was let out then too, although I haven’t spoken to him. Part of our release conditions are to have no further contact with one another. We aren’t to ever disclose our true identities, and I have to visit a probation officer every couple years to check in.”
He stops talking, and silence engulfs us. I’m in complete shock, and I don’t know how I feel, or what to say. We don’t speak, but neither one of us moves either. So many thoughts flit through my mind, and I want to reach out to him, but I don’t know where to start.
“Do you hate me now?” he quietly asks after what feels like an eternity of silence.
I immediately shake my head, turning to look at him. “I could never hate you, Ryder. And while I won’t pretend this hasn’t shocked and upset me, it doesn’t change who you are. If anything, it helps me understand you a bit better.”
“I killed a little boy, Zeta! How can you even stand to look at me?”
“You didn’t kill him, and you were only a little boy, too. Neglected and deprived of love. You tried to look out for him. And you did the right thing by confessing to the authorities.”
“I stood by and did nothing!” he shouts, his voice cracking at the end. “And he was only there in the first place because of me.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re responsible, and you’ve served your time. You’re continuing to serve time,” I add, because now it all makes sense. The nightmares, pushing me away, the anger that seems to flare up for no reason, his addiction to drink and drugs as an attempt to blot out reality. “What’s your real name?” I softly ask.
Strain is etched across his face as he utters the words. “Jack Hill, but that’s not who I am anymore. I’m Ryder Stone. I never want to be Jack Hill again.”
“He’s a part of you, and he always will be, especially if you continue to hate yourself for the role you played in Cory’s death.”
“It’s never going to end, Zeta. I will always remember who Jack Hill was.” He sighs heavily. “Ren will make sure of it.”
“Ren was the man in the garage. The guy who attacked me,” I surmise, and he nods. “Why isn’t he in jail?”
“I discovered after I was released that the others had all colluded to spare him. They told the cops he wasn’t there that day, and Johnny took the fall for him. He confessed to shooting the cashier too.” He shakes his head repeatedly. “Ren hasn’t served any time, and that makes me sick.”
“And now he’s blackmailing you?” I guess.
He nods again. “He’s the reason I left you,” he admits, and I urge him to continue with my eyes. “He was waiting for me outside juvie that last time I came to visit you. He told me I had a debt to pay because I was the reason everyone was sent down. He had pictures of you, and he made it clear he’d seek revenge through you if I didn’t start giving him cash. I was terrified he’d hurt you, and I had nothing to offer you back then. No way to protect you, so I thought if I left, if I put distance between us and cut all ties, that he’d see I didn’t care about you and leave you alone. And it worked, until you reappeared in my life, and I was too weak to send you away. I convinced myself that it’d be different now. That I had the resources to protect you. That it’d be safer for you to be with me than not with me. I foolishly thought the fact I’ve paid him millions in hush money to keep my identity a secret from my fans would be enough. But I was wrong.”
He buries his head in his hands, and his shoulders heave painfully. I can’t watch him beat himself up any longer, so I crawl up the bed and wrap my arms around him, just holding him, resting my cheek on his back, in a kind of numbed-dazed state.
After a while, he lifts his head up, peering into my eyes. “I love you, Zeta, even if I’ve done a piss-poor job of showing you how much. I don’t have the words to describe how sorry I am for dragging you into all this.” Gently, he brushes his fingers against the bandage on my neck. “He hurt you because of me, and I’ll never forgive myself.” Closing his eyes, he presses a fierce kiss to my forehead. “I know I’ve most likely lost you, and I won’t fight you if that’s what you want, but I’m promising you now, that no matter what happens between us, your safety is my number one priority. I’m going to ensure he doesn’t get near you again, and that is one promise I’m not breaking for anything or anyone.”
CHAPTER 36
Zeta
We return to the Hamptons that evening, and the atmosphere is subdued on the plane and in the SUV. I sit beside Ryder, but we don’t talk, and we don’t touch. He told me nothing happened with Ashley, and I believe him, but it doesn’t eradicate the hurt or the sense of betrayal. He also concealed his past from me, putting me in danger by not revealing the truth. While a part
of me understands why he did it, and I can’t deny he took measures to try and keep me safe, I’m still upset that he didn’t confide in me. I’ve told him I need space to sort out my feelings, and he’s agreed to give me as much time as I need. I think he expected me to leave as soon as I heard the truth, but I’m not going to run away without thinking everything through.
Things are tense between the guys too, and by Tuesday, I can’t bear the uncomfortable mood in the studio, so I excuse myself for the rest of the week, choosing to work on the biography out on the upper level terrace instead. Writing helps keep me distracted, and I sorely need that right now.
Every morning, a delivery of fresh flowers arrives for me with a different romantic note from Ryder. My bedroom smells like a florist shop, and they never fail to bring a smile to my face, but it’s going to take more than flowers to convince me I should completely forgive him and give things a go again.
Social media goes crazy when Ryder releases a statement publicly apologizing for letting me down. He ended it with a heartfelt declaration of undying love for me, which has his fans swooning over him even more. While I’m grateful he set the record straight, it hasn’t changed anything.
On Thursday, Ryder ups the ante, surprising me with a romantic dinner on the beach. The guys helped him build a little makeshift gazebo, and he cooked the dinner from scratch himself. After we eat, he plays a new song he wrote for me, explaining how, in juvie, he used to daydream about serenading me on a beach.
I cry myself to sleep that night, my heart torn and so conflicted. A part of me wants to cave. To say fuck it. That he deserves another chance.
But the part of me that spent years hardening my heart isn’t as forgiving.
I swore I would never let another man shatter my heart in the way Ryder Stone had. Now, finding myself in a similar position, thanks to the very same man, makes me feel weak and lacking in resolve. Then I think of the intense connection we share, the strength of the love that exists between us, how sorry he is for the mistakes he’s made, all the ways he’s shown me that he cares, and I feel foolish for turning my back on the love of a lifetime.
Round and round it goes. Churning and churning. Without any resolution.
I’ve returned to the guest bedroom, because sleeping beside Ryder when our relationship is in flux doesn’t feel right, but I’m lonelier than ever.
Ryder has nightmares, most every night, and I go to him, holding him until he falls back asleep, and then I return to my room. I’m existing on minimal sleep, because I can’t switch off with everything going through my mind.
Every night, like clockwork, I bolt awake at four a.m. as terrifying visions of Ren’s assault inflict my mind. I stay up after that, usually reading, sometimes writing, or occasionally baking, because these things help ease my mind.
“Fuck, these are gorgeous,” Gar declares, stuffing another blueberry muffin in his face. I only took them out of the oven twenty minutes ago, so they’re still all fluffy and warm. “If you break up with Stone, you can come live with me, on condition you bake these muffins every morning.”
Even though he can’t see me from this angle, I roll my eyes at the suggestion. I can barely tolerate being in the same room as Gar these days. If he keeps talking shit, I’m likely to ram that muffin down his throat until he chokes. I glance at Ryder, but his head is still bent over his cell. The drumming of his fingers off the tabletop is the only indication Gar’s comment has gotten to him.
If this was before, Ryder would’ve ripped Gar’s head off, but he’s been quite withdrawn and sullen this week. I suspect he thought his romantic gesture on the beach last night would send me falling back into his arms, and he’s dejected because it didn’t happen. I want to tell him it’s okay, that we can get past this, but I won’t lie to him, and I don’t know that yet.
However, I’m hoping the fact I’m still here tells him I haven’t given up on us. That I’m still processing everything. Despite what he thinks, I know he’s not a bad guy.
I’m shocked over what happened with Cory, but anyone looking at Ryder can see the overwhelming guilt and remorse he struggles with daily. He’s being punished every single day, and I don’t hold that over him. It’s more his failure to disclose the full picture and his destructive, hurtful behavior the night of the awards that has me unsure of our future.
“Boss.” Mike strolls into the kitchen with three strange men following him. From their builds and stoic expressions, I can tell they are part of the new security detail. Ryder has gone into uber protective mode since last weekend, doubling the size of the bodyguard team, installing new cameras in the living areas and hallways of the house, insisting I have two bodyguards whenever I step foot off the property, putting monitoring devices on my cell and laptop, and checking the locator app on his cell incessantly when he thinks I’m not looking. I understand it, and I’m not going to criticize him, especially as it helps me feel more secure.
“I want to introduce you to the new faces on the team,” Mike adds.
A frown puckers my brow as I stare at the familiar guy with the strawberry-blond hair. “I know you.”
Alarm sweeps across Ryder’s face as Mike cusses under his breath.
I round the island unit, my gaze bouncing between the new guy, Mike, and Ryder. “You were the one who came to my aid the night that guy was chasing me,” I supply, remembering the incident from three years ago as clearly as if it was yesterday.
After what transpired that night, I stopped jogging through the park near my home after dark. I’d been running my usual route when this guy appeared from behind me, instantly giving me a mad case of the heebie-jeebies. Keen to outrun him, I’d stepped up my pace, but so did he, and soon, it became obvious he was chasing me.
The man currently standing in front of me—looking scared shitless I might add—had materialized at my side, quickly telling me he meant me no harm, advising he’d deal with the guy following me, and to run home. I hadn’t needed any further encouragement, and I’d barely paused for a breath the whole way back to my condo. I’d thought of my savior often in the weeks that followed, but then I forgot all about it.
Until now.
“What’s going on?” I spin around, facing Ryder, who appears to be having some sort of silent conversation with Mike.
“I’d like to know that too,” Ryder says, glaring at Mike and the new guy. “Why is this the first I’m hearing about this?”
Mike levels a direct look at Ryder. “I’m sorry, boss. Lar reported the incident to me at the time, but I thought it best to hold that information back. Zeta was safe, and you would’ve just freaked out like you did when…”
Ryder silences him with a loaded look.
“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” I cross my arms over my chest, beginning to form a picture.
Ryder extends his hand toward me. “Let’s go for a walk.”
He doesn’t want to talk in front of the others and neither do I, so I take his hand and we walk in complete silence out of the house and down to the beach.
It’s a beautiful summer’s morning, and the sun heats my bare shoulders as we tread a path through the soft, warm sand. Ryder shares this private strip of beach with a few of his neighbors, and I can make out a few kids playing up ahead as we walk.
“I may have left you behind, Zeta, but I never forgot about you,” he begins explaining, lacing his fingers more firmly in mine. “Once the band made it, and the money started rolling in, I had the resources to keep an eye on you.” He stops in front of me, linking both my hands in his. “You’re probably gonna freak the fuck out when I tell you this, but please believe me when I say everything I did was done to keep you protected.”
“What did you do, Ryder?”
“I’ve kept tabs on you over the years. I wanted to know you were happy. And that you were safe. When you moved to New York, I panicked, because I knew Ren
showed up every three months to collect money from me, and there was a good chance he was living in the city. So, I hired bodyguards to follow you.”
“Bodyguards? As in plural?” My eyes almost bug out of their sockets.
He nods. “One to watch over you during the day and one to protect you at night.”
“I … that’s … how did I never notice?” I finally exclaim.
“Because these guys are good at their jobs, and they’re paid to blend into the shadows.”
I slip my hands out of his, dragging them through my hair as I contemplate exactly what this means. “And they, what, like reported to you about me?”
He nods, at least having the decency to look ashamed. “Mike got weekly reports, which he shared with me.”
Planting my hands on my hips, I glare at him. “What was in these reports, Ryder? And don’t even attempt to lie to me.”
He cringes a little. “Summaries of your daily routines, places you visited, people you hung out with…” He trails off, shoving his hands in the pockets of his shorts, waiting for me to erupt.
“Oh my God! You got reports on the men I was having sex with?”
“I needed to know you were safe. He’d threatened you, and I wouldn’t put it past him to try and hook up with you,” he murmurs.
I prod my finger in his chest. “Don’t give me that crock of shit. If you were that worried about Ren, I’m sure all the bodyguards at least had a description of him.”
“They did,” he freely admits, “although none of them knew who he was or why he was a threat. Mike included. No one knows about Ren but you.”
A thought lands in my mind, and my jaw hangs open as realization dawns. My eyes pop wide and my fists ball up at my sides. “That’s why you went apeshit on Gus the other night! You knew who he was! You knew I’d slept with him!”
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