by M. L. Broome
He’s refused every therapy visit, but they promise they’ll continue to drop by in the hopes he changes his mind. Hell, at this point they’re bringing me coffee and words of encouragement.
God knows I need both.
I know Ryder is hurting. He’s scared. He’s also built a wall a mile thick around himself, blocking out everyone, including the people who love him. Especially the people who love him.
But I soldier on, though I’m not sure if it’s stubbornness or stupidity at this point.
In the evenings, I sit by Ryder’s pool, though I don’t dare swim. I know I’m not welcome, and the last thing I need is him hearing me having any semblance of fun. That’s why the television has remained off, as well. I fill my downtime researching everything I can find about his condition or cleaning his house from top to bottom.
Hell, even his housekeeper commented on how the place sparkled during her last visit.
Jillian gives me updates every few days on Greg’s progress through rehab. Ryder’s accident threw my brother for a loop, along with his childhood friend cutting him from his life. Apparently, Ryder now detests the entire Hammond clan.
Colton has also stopped by a couple of times, although Ryder refuses his visits, as well. But he’s offered me support, which I desperately need. I’ve worn down over the last week. I’m exhausted and sick to my stomach most days, no doubt because of the enormous stress.
That’s also likely why my period is late.
Stress.
In one of my two jaunts out of the house, I grabbed a test on impulse. Now, if I could only find the guts to use it.
After staring at the box for the better part of an hour, I snatch up the test and rush to the bathroom. I’m still on the toilet when a resounding crash sounds upstairs, and I chuck down the test, taking the stairs two at a time to Ryder’s room.
Bounding inside, I note the glass of water I set on the bedside table is now in a million pieces on the other side of the room.
Wonderful.
“What in the world happened?” I ask the question aloud, although I don’t expect an answer, since Ryder hasn’t spoken directly to me in the last several days.
“I’ll tell you what happened. Colton and the team are headed for Europe. Continuing the circuit without me. My life is over.”
Willing my breath and mind to settle, I attempt to think of something—anything—that won’t further agitate him. “I’m sorry.”
“For what, Greer? Using me? Lying to me? Being here? So many choices, aren’t there?”
So much for not agitating him. With a huff, I walk over to the pile of shattered glass. Best to focus on my task and stay out of his way. Glancing over my shoulder, I see his sightless gaze locked in my direction; the anger wafting off him.
My finger rips across a shard, and I drop it with a yelp. “Ouch. Shit.”
“What happened?”
“I cut myself,” I mumble as I assess the damage. Thankfully, it won’t need stitches, but the sucker sure is bleeding. “Don’t move from the bed, please. There’s still broken glass but I need to bandage my finger.”
“Gigi?” For the first time since he kicked me out of his life, he uses my nickname, and his voice is softer, lacking the harsh edge.
“Yes?”
“I wasn’t thinking when I threw the glass. Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine. Nothing a bandage won’t fix. I’ll be back in a minute.”
A small smile crosses my face as I descend the stairs and head for the first aid kit tucked into the main floor bathroom. It’s hardly a declaration of romance, but I’ll take it.
Then my gaze falls on the pregnancy test, tossed aside in my haste, and my breath catches, the cut on my finger long forgotten.
Grabbing up the test, I stare at the results in disbelief.
I’m not stressed.
I’m pregnant.
Chapter 14
Greer
I’m keeping my wits about me.
To be fair, I’m falling apart on the inside, but externally, everything appears dandy.
I returned to Ryder’s room last night with his dinner tray before cleaning up the remaining glass, but I never uttered a word about my recent discovery.
Why would I? Ryder can’t stand me, so there’s no chance in hell he’ll be anything but furious that I’m pregnant.
Colton called again this morning, the concern clear in his voice when he learned Ryder refused yet another therapy session. “Go be his wife, Greer. He doesn’t want to listen? Make him. Force his hand. He needs you, despite what he claims, but he’s stubborn and scared.”
“He needs a lot of things, but I’m damn sure I’m not one of them.”
“Ryder is in love with you.”
A scoff flies from my lips at his words. “Trust me, he’s not.”
“Trust me, he is.”
“What makes you think that?” Better question, do I want to know?
“Ryder and I met for a drink. I’d heard through the grapevine he’d gotten married, so of course, I had to bust his balls a bit. But it didn’t matter, because the man was so excited to show you off to the world. He said he’d loved you since he was a kid.”
My mind reels, sure that Colton heard him wrong. “If that were the case, why was he with Mandi at the hotel the night before the race?”
A surprised huff escapes Colton. “Shit, I didn’t know he was, and he certainly never mentioned her being there to me. I remember seeing her at the hospital, though. Found it odd she was there, but I was too focused on everything else to speak to her. Trust me, I avoid speaking to that woman at all costs.”
“I take it you’re not a fan?”
“That’s one way to put it. I don’t know what happened with Mandi, although I suspect nothing. But I do know one thing. You two need to talk and clear the air, using full sentences. Grunting doesn’t count. I know you’re tough, Greer. Go show him who’s boss. Believe it or not, he’ll listen.”
I doubt that sentiment highly but agree to give it a shot. I’m not sure why Colton and Lorna are convinced Ryder loves me or will even consider listening to me at this point. They haven’t spent the last week living in a house where the tension pervades every square inch.
I have, and much more of this, I’ll be signing myself into the nuthouse. Hey, it would be a far more relaxing environment.
Still, I promised to pull out all the stops. My mission for the day? Get Ryder’s ass out of bed.
How hard can it be?
Balancing Ryder’s lunch tray in one arm and an ice bucket in the other, I climb the stairs, praying he’s in a decent mood. He needs to return to the world of the living, although I know he won’t go quietly. That would be far too easy.
With a sigh, I ready myself for the inevitable argument.
Please God, give me a break. Just a twenty-four-hour ceasefire.
Since I know God and his warped sense of humor lately, I’m not relying on prayers. I’ve got my armor on and sword drawn, ready for the inevitable verbal spar.
Come at me, Ryder.
I knock on his door before swinging it open. Ryder shakes his head in aggravation, tossing down the television remote. “Which part of leaving me alone don’t you understand?”
Oh well, so much for civility.
“You don’t really want me to go. Your bark is worse than your bite.” Thanks for that gem, Mrs. Gray.
“I’ve been telling you to leave for the last two weeks. You won’t listen.”
I plant my hands on my hips, certain that despite his lack of sight, he can feel the energy pervading from my petite frame. “Call the cops, then. Have me escorted off the property.”
Ryder groans, burying his face in the pillow. “Just go, Greer.”
“No can do. You need to rejoin the human race, and that starts with a shower and a change of clothes.”
“Go away,” he reiterates, his voice muffled into the pillow.
“If you don’t get out of this bed—”
“Make you regret your decision.”
“Doubtful.”
Can’t say I didn’t warn him. Setting down the food tray in a safe location, I hoist the ice bucket over his bed, dumping the entire thing onto his body.
Now I have his full attention.
Shocked curses fly from his mouth as he scrambles to escape the cold cubes. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
So glad you asked, Ryder.
“You don’t even want to know. There are so many things wrong with me these past couple of weeks.”
Ryder thrusts out his hand, his face curled into an angry snarl. “Don’t do that again.”
“Or what? You’ll ignore me? Spout more lies? Treat me with disdain? I’m getting used to it, Ryder. Do your worst.”
He pulls the shirt from his body, tossing it on the bed. “You expect me to feel sorry for you? That’s rich, Greer.”
My mobile buzzes in my pocket just as I’m about to release a verbal tirade on my husband. Pulling it out, I groan at the caller ID.
Here we go again. Normally, I take any calls away from Ryder, but I’m done tiptoeing around his wildly vacillating emotions.
“Hello, Mr. Givens. What can I do for you?”
Ryder turns his head toward me, his expression curious.
“Ms. Hammond, I hate to bother you, but we really need to sit down and talk.”
Releasing a deep sigh, I realize there’s no point in fighting it anymore. The decision has been made. “I’m giving Ryder his lunch and a shower. Can I call you in an hour to set up an appointment?”
“That’s fine. Send Ryder my best.”
Clicking off the call, I turn back toward my husband, noting the confused look crossing his features. I shake my head in disgust as I glance over at his disheveled appearance. Don’t get me wrong, the man is still gorgeous, but he needs a date with some soap and a shower head.
As soon as possible.
“Was that my lawyer?”
Oh, boy, here we go. Round two, and this time, I’m out of ice. “Yep.”
“What did he want?”
A scoff flies from my mouth. “What do you think?”
“Just ignore him.”
“Do you want your lunch before or after your shower?”
“Didn’t I just get a shower?” Ryder snorts, and I have to bite back a laugh. This situation is ridiculous, and now I’m knee-deep in the muck with him.
“I can get some more ice if you like.”
“Pass.” He fumbles to the armchair, reaching for the tray.
“Your chicken is at twelve o’clock. Pasta is at six.” Taking a step back, I watch as he spears a noodle, making it to his mouth.
Hey, it’s progress.
Now, the real question is, do I proceed with our current conversation? I’ve already poked the bear once today. Why would I continue down this path?
One good answer—because I’m damn aggravated with said bear.
“Why would you want me to ignore your lawyer?”
“It’s not important to me,” Ryder mumbles, a noodle falling back to the plate.
“Seems our annulment is really important to him,” I fire off, my sauciness at the ready. I’ve been a modest mouse for the last week. Today, I’m swinging back.
Ryder turns in my direction, his brow furrowing. “Our what? You had Mr. Givens draw up annulment papers?”
With that question, the gloves come off as I pace brisk strides around his room. “You can stop pretending, Ryder. At least now I know why you refused to wear your ring and didn’t want to announce our marriage. It makes perfect sense when you see it from a distance.”
Ryder tosses down his fork, pushing the tray aside. “What the hell are you babbling about?”
The last vestiges of restraint holding back my temper release as I storm to my husband’s side. “I saw you and Mandi in Charlotte. I flew in to surprise you, to stand by your side and cheer you on. Instead, I found you and your ex-girlfriend together in the lobby bar. You wouldn’t even pick up your phone. Then I get to the hospital and who’s there? Mandi. But I said nothing, because your health was my only concern. Besides, you seemed to want me there, and you never mentioned her. I thought I’d misread the situation until I walked into your room and saw you two kissing. Maybe this was only a public relations stunt to you, but this is my life.” I swipe at the tears rolling down my cheeks, the emotional dam busted all to hell.
The mask of anger slides from Ryder’s face. “Shit. Gigi, why didn’t you tell me what you saw?”
“Tell you what? That you hurt me? Broke me? You turned my life upside down and spit on my dreams, but I’m still here. Unlike your precious Mandi.”
Ryder opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. I’ve been silent for days. Time to let it all hang out.
Go big or go home.
With a deep breath, I open my heart to the man, even if I’m certain he’ll destroy it. “I want you, Ryder—for the good days, the bad days, and the in-between days. When I spoke those vows in Barbados, I meant them. Even if you didn’t. You’re my perfect in an imperfect world. The man who made me believe in all the trappings of love. So even if you don’t feel the same way, it doesn’t detract from my feelings. My love has the power to heal you, and that’s what I plan on doing. Once you’re better, you can go back to hating me. Until then, can’t we work together? We’re on the same team.”
“Hate you? Are you crazy?” Ryder shakes his head as if to clear it. “I’ve loved you from the second I laid eyes on you. You’re more than a perfect woman. You’re perfection itself.”
My knees threaten to give out from his words, but I have to slog through all the anger and distrust. Ryder deserves it. We both do.
“If I’m so perfect, why did you push me away?”
Ryder’s body tenses, and I can see him rebuilding that emotional wall. “You know the reason.”
“I have no idea, actually. You claim I have this ulterior motive, but it was me whose heart shattered seeing you with Mandi. She may be beautiful, but she doesn’t deserve you or your love. Instead of being here to help you, she hopped on an international flight.”
Ryder scoots forward in his chair, and for the first time, I see he’s doing his best to traverse the muck of miscommunication with me. “I don’t want Mandi.”
“Sure you don’t.” Hello sarcasm, good of you to show up.
“All I’ve ever wanted is you. Do you think I would mess that up? I married you, Gigi. I meant those vows as much as you did.”
My heart leaps at his admission, but my head is far warier. The eyes will reveal what the lips can conceal. “Then why did you kiss her? Why were you holding her hands? Why is your lawyer barraging me with phone calls?”
The questions fly from my lips with the speed of a bullet train, all the anger and frustration from the last week finally catching up to me.
“She kissed me. I wasn’t expecting it. I didn’t want it. That night at the hotel, she confronted me about our marriage. She was so upset, or so she claimed, crying and inconsolable. I held her hands in a desperate bid to make her understand. As for my lawyer? Give me the phone and I’ll tell Mr. Givens to fuck off personally.”
“Why is he calling? The man is worse than a bill collector.”
Ryder chuckles, a foreign but entirely welcome sound to my ears. “He’s pissed I didn’t have you sign a prenup. I already told him to dead the issue, but he never was very good at listening. Although, I should call him. Tell him about the horrible abuse I’m suffering at your hands in the form of ice baths.”
“You’re out of bed, aren’t you? I consider it a win.”
“You would.” His words are harsh, but the faint glimpse of a smile colors his face.
We’re moving in the right direction, but I still have a boatload of unanswered questions. Time for Ryder to spill the beans.
“You don’t want an annulment?”
&nb
sp; “Greer, I told you on the phone that we are never getting divorced.”
“You make no sense. You won’t divorce me, but you’ve been hateful toward me. Tell me why.” The words barely make it past my throat, the emotions clogging my airway, and I’m wholly uncertain I want to hear his answer.
“You know—”
“Don’t you dare tell me I know the reason,” I bellow, startling the man with the volume of my voice. I rarely yell, unless screams of passion count. Those, Ryder is all too familiar with.
Ryder sighs, running a hand over his unkempt beard. “I figured you were only here out of obligation. That you felt bad because of Greg’s involvement and in typical Greer fashion, were trying to make it better.” A resigned sigh echoes from his chest. “You were so distant after the accident. You barely touched me, and I needed that affection. I needed you. I thought you didn’t want me anymore. Sucks, but I get it. I hate it, but I get it.”
That’s it. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I kneel in front of him, grasping his hands. “You get nothing. Your injury sucks. Your attitude these past weeks really sucks. Our miscommunication sucks. But despite everything, I love you even more than I did. So deal with it.”
Ryder’s hand tangles in my hair, pulling me close. “Deal with this.”
He’s aiming for my lips, but our noses bump and I fall back, laughing.
Thank God, so is Ryder. “Sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing his nose. “Maybe we try that again?”
“Absolutely, but first, you are taking a shower. A real, honest to God shower. Then, I expect hours of make-up kisses from you.”
I don’t give him an opportunity to argue as I lead him to the bathroom.
“I’m pretty damn ripe,” Ryder concedes, taking a whiff under his arm as we wait for the shower to heat.
“To say the least. Promise me I can burn these clothes, along with your sheets.”
Guiding him under the spray, Ryder releases a low groan as he leans against the tile. I’m by his side in a flash, my clothes in a heap outside the shower door. I can coach him through the shower and offer him some privacy, but he’s been alone in this dark hell for weeks. Time for him to share the burden.