by Trisha Wolfe
“I won’t leave her for long,” Lucas says as he stands. Then he glances down at me once more before heading back to the party.
Ryder kneels before me, all of his massive strength pulling me toward him like he’s my own personal gravity. I just want to fall into him. Let him end this torture. It takes every bit of my strength to summon the willpower needed to pull away when he reaches for me.
“No,” I say. I suck back a sob and blink hard. Palming the ground, I push myself up and stand on shaky legs. When I’m able to look at him, and I witness the pain etched on his face, I loathe myself. From this moment on, I’ll never be able to look into a mirror without hating the girl reflected back at me with a vicious passion.
“The Alyssa thing…” I trail off, try to find my voice. “It’s just too much, Ryder.” I don’t mean a damn word. My heart is beating so frantic I swear he can hear it; hear the lie. “I think with everything stacked against us, it’s just too…complicated. It was supposed to be fun. A fling.”
His head jerks back as if he’s been slapped. Fling. Such a simple yet terrible word to appoint to what we have together. But it’s what he needs to hear. It’s the only thing that will make him walk away and leave me in my hell.
“A fling,” he spits.
I nod, and he turns his back on me before I can attempt to say more. “You’ll never be happy with him,” he says. His voice is broken. Defeated. It rips at my chest, slashes at my soul.
“I know,” I say simply.
“There will never be a day that you don’t regret what you gave up.” He turns and looks at me, honesty shining in those clear, icy-blue eyes. “And there will never be a day that I don’t think of you. That I don’t regret this second right here.”
His gaze moves over me with intense purpose, as if he’s imprinting me in his memory. Then, without another word, he walks away.
My eyes follow after him, watching him make his way through the crowd of curious stares, his indignant strides moving him farther and farther away from me. Out of my life. All the while, his words echo in my head, the truth of them aching in my heart. My chest constricted so tight I have to gasp to force air into my lungs. Remember how to breathe.
“Arian.”
Lucas’s voice fills the void surrounding me. As he nears me, he says, “We can do this another night.”
I close my eyes and feel fresh tears track my cheeks. “I’m fine,” I say, affecting false bravado. I can’t do this another night. I cannot do this all over again. The wait, the dread—the doomed countdown of the inescapable. Dragging this out any longer, clinging to a hope that doesn’t exist, will only level me further. It’s time to get it over with.
As Lucas leads me into the party, his arm wrapped around my waist, guiding me toward my future, I plaster a practiced smile on my face. I bury my pain and regret so far down that it will take an excavation to unearth it. It’s what I’ve been trained to do.
They mustn’t see any defining qualities of self. I am an image. A persona.
I am perfection amid the flawed.
And later, when Lucas slides the engagement ring onto my finger, drawing a collective awe from my family and their friends, my hand trembles, tears leak from my eyes, and I welcome their mistaken assumption that I’m happy. That I’m reveling in my perfect world.
It’s easier to allow people to believe what they want—what they choose as their truth. When no one looks too deeply, only concerned with the superficial, they’re easy to fool.
I was once one of those fools. I can be again. I have to be.
28
Ryder
I’m a fucking idiot.
Even after Ari plainly spelled it out for me, stating I was just a college fling, I continued to cling to my belief that we were more. I wanted to believe she was angry. Hurt. Distraught, even. That she needed time to process all the shit my brother threw at her.
Because nothing that left her mouth felt real. I could not—would not—accept it.
I walked away that night at her parents’ house with a sliver of hope. It was just a fragile wisp, but it was there; a tiny shred of evidence that she loves me. I said the words she needed me to say, what she needed to hear, in order to alleviate the pain I knew she felt. She’s suffered enough pressure from her parents; I wanted to be different.
She needed someone who was willing to wait for her. I was going to be that guy. I was going to shove my ego and butthurt feelings aside to be the man she truly needed.
I was going to win her back. Prove that my feelings for her are damn real.
Then, I saw the ring.
Fucking idiot.
I knew, in a suspended moment where my reality shattered, that it was all bullshit. I recalled every conversation, every word, every look, where she tried to explain it to me. But I was just too stubborn and hotheaded to hear her.
I’m the guy that gets the romp in the hay. The guy she goes slumming with in college. The guy to fuck her six ways to Sunday. So that when she marries the guy who she’s meant to marry, she can look back with fond memories. Having zero regret about never getting dirty with the boy from the wrong side of town. So she never has to wonder about what she might be missing.
My jaw tense, I shout the play. “Blue, ark! Blue, ark!”
At the line of scrimmage, I try to center all my focus on the practice game. Too much riding on tonight. Get it together, Ryder.
You’d think after three weeks she’d be out of my system. You’d think after being played so hard I’d gain a fucking backbone. But I’m still a pathetic waste, hung up on a girl who just wanted a fling before she got married. Before she ran off.
That’s right. Because now, she’s gone. Who needs a college education when you have Daddy’s money? Or rather, her future husband’s money.
Fuck, but I hate that I notice—that I wonder if she’s with him…
But maybe it’s easier this way. I don’t have to see her in the hallways. Watch as she ducks her head and tries to cover up that huge rock on her finger. She couldn’t even look me in the eye. Like I’m some shameful secret. Some mistake.
My hands ball into fists, my jaw clenches tight. As I hunch over, I force my fingers to spread and spear the ground, digging the tips into the earth.
I call the live color, then, “Hut, hut. Hut. Hike!”
The ball snaps to me. I palm it in both hands, my feet already in motion, as the clash of padded bodies thunders over the field. My gaze locks on James. One second. Two. Three—he’s in the clear. I pull my arm back, ready to launch—and arms anchor around my waist. A hard tackle takes me down, the air knocked from my lungs.
“What the hell!” Gavin shouts.
I roll onto my back, and pain slices through my shoulder blade. Dammit. Then Gavin’s standing over me, a pissed off scowl on his face.
“You let fucking Derrick take you down?” he says. I hear Derrick’s grumble of resentment, but Gavin doesn’t remove his glare from me to acknowledge him. “Man, I have to say. This shit is tiring.”
Yeah, I can’t argue with him there. I accept his hand as he pulls me up. “Let it go,” I tell him.
“Fuck you,” he shouts. He points a finger at my chest. “I didn’t work my ass off, putting up with all Keebler’s shit, just for you to blow the championship tonight because—” He breaks off as he meets my warning glare.
He holds up his hands. “Sorry, Ryde. But she’s gone, man. How long are you going to torture yourself over her? She made her choice. And hell, she chose another—”
Anger grips me whole. I grab him by his chest pad. “Don’t say shit, Gav.”
He pushes me off of him, breaking my hold. Looking me over, a disgusted expression hardening his features, he says, “One night, man.” He holds up a finger. “I know you’re fucked up over Ari. But I’m just asking you for one night. Get your shit together and do what you need to do.”
What I need to do.
For who?
I glance around the field, at all the wary
faces watching us. The faces of the guys I’ve lead over the past three years. Do it for them? For my dad? For my brother? Hell, for Ari?
Who the fuck am I doing this for?
Gavin curses, breaking into my conflicted thoughts. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair. “Look, it’s all good. I know you’ll pull it together; you always do. And I’m sure Ari’s doing better now.”
My attention snaps to his face. “What are you talking about?”
“Shit,” he hisses. “Nothing, man. Let’s just get back to the practice game.”
“What has Vee told you?”
His lips harden into a tight line, like he’s trying to keep his mouth sealed. I’ll be damned. I’m stalking toward him, ready to get answers, but a loud rumble bites into my eardrums. The vibration rattles my chest, and I can feel the growl of an engine rolling along the soles of my cleats. Whistles sound out, and I follow my guys’ drawn attention to the road just past the fence.
A Harley cruises past the cars and pulls to a stop in a parking space. The rider pops off her helmet, revealing flaming burgundy hair. Her gaze hard on us, she throws a leg over the seat and then jumps off the bike. She saunters right through the gate, pulling her shades down past her nose.
“Damn, bro,” Gavin says. “Who’s that?”
“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” I say. “One that I’m going to get some answers from if you don’t tell me what’s going on with Ari.” But he doesn’t pay my threat any attention. And truthfully, I’m only half committed to it. My line of sight on the girl, keeping time with her sure movements as she heads straight for us.
Gavin nudges me, as if all is forgotten. For him, it probably is. He said his piece. “Yeah, I care for Vee. But there’s no crime in looking.” He’s not saying jack about what I want to know. Which means Vee has him pretty whipped. Never thought I’d witness that day.
As the girl approaches, she checks out each player in turn, then pushes her sunglasses back over her eyes. My guys have all lined up, as if waiting for this hot little number to make her selection.
“I’m looking for Ryder Nash,” she announces.
“Damn, dude,” Gavin says. “You get all the trim.”
I turn toward my guys. “Run the next play, you assholes.” They groan, but Gavin claps his hands, calling the play, and they hustle to the middle of the field.
Hands to her hips, the girl checks me out hard as I make my way toward her.
“So. You’re Ryder,” she says, a laugh in her throaty voice. “My, my. I bet all the girls just cream their panties over you.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, stopping a few feet from her. “Do we know each other?” I note her ripped jeans and the tats along her collarbone, peaking out between the open collar of her leather jacket. The pink bandana around her neck. She doesn’t look like she’s a local. In fact, she looks like she’s from some motorcycle club. Something we don’t have around here.
She smiles and curls a finger before her face, beckoning me closer. I shake my head, but hell, I’m game. I stalk toward her, and when there’s only a couple of inches between us, I look down into her face. With a quick jerk of her hand, she grabs my faceguard and brings my face right before hers.
She rips her sunglasses off and stares into my eyes. “We have a mutual friend, jockstrap. My girl Ari sent me a rather distressing text that has me super worried about her.” Her dark eyes glare into mine. “And I have a feeling that it’s your doing. I’m here to make sure she’s okay, and kick the shit out of your ass if I find out otherwise.”
I yank my faceguard out of her grasp and pull back. Then I look her over, really study her. There’s no way this girl is acquainted with Ari. Shit, they wouldn’t even breathe the same air. “The hell,” I say. “Are you trying to get money from her? What the fuck do you really want? How do you know her?”
She laughs, then pulls out an envelope from her back pocket and shoves it before my face. I recognize Ari’s handwriting. The letter is addressed to one Melody Lachlan. The return address is Braxton University. She lowers the letter. “I’m Melody. And I know it seems unlikely that our sweet girl would run with the likes of me—” she fans a hand down her body—“but rehab doesn’t discriminate, duce.”
The pieces click together. Ari did mention a girl she became friends with in rehab, someone she considers close—but damn, she left out the scary biker chick part.
Then Melody’s words register, finally getting past my confusion. Fear trickles down my spine. “Ari sent you a message? Something’s wrong?” Dammit, Vee.
She shrugs, flipping out a cigarette from her pack. She lights it before saying, “Her message was short. It was also fucking weird. Like she was out of it, or like she was being dragged away.” Her face pinches in worry. “With what she battles, I’m scared something bad has happened. That she’s off sick somewhere… She won’t answer my calls.”
I feel my forehead crease. “What she battles?” I scoff, indignant. “You mean her engagement to Mister Money Douchebags? Yeah, that’s a real first world problem right there.”
The bewilderment that crosses her face quickly morphs into one of understanding. “You don’t know.” She says it so fast, so assuredly, that her words strike me like an insult.
I don’t know.
Before I have a chance to press, Melody tilts her head and blows out a puff of smoke. “It’s probably not my place, but I think Ari might be in real trouble.” She shakes her head. “And honestly, if you have any real desire to be with my girl, you should know how to take care of her.”
“What are you talking about? Tell me.” Panic encases me with icy chills, my patience gone.
“Come on,” she says, nodding her head toward her bike. “Get rid of that bulky douche padding. You’re not riding on my bike like that.”
“I’m not riding on your bike period,” I say. “And you’re not leaving here without telling me what the fuck is going on.”
“Fine. Just tell me where she is, and I’ll leave you to your ass-slapping game.” At my shameful expression, she turns her back on me and releases a low curse. Within the same beat, she spins back around to face me and says, “Ari’s sick, Ryder. You got that?” She widens her eyes. “She’s bulimic. Anorexic. Whatever the correct term is these days. But really, I just call it trying to deal with her uptight life and pressure-inducing parents. The girl pecks at her food, and when she gets really upset, she can go days without even thinking of it.”
The truth of her words hits me over the head like a damn mallet. All of a sudden, I’m worse than an idiot; I’m a negligent asshole. I had the proof right before me; all those days where I let her convince me she was just tired, stressed, full—where I was more concerned about us than her. I focused on all the wrong shit—just all the wrong issues.
“We need to find Vee,” I say, and I’m already storming toward the locker room to get changed before Melody can counter.
“All right, then,” she says, running to catch up with me. She tosses her cigarette, her combat boot stubbing it into the ground as she passes. “We need Vee. Okay. Who’s Vee? Am I going to have to get all rowdy on her?
Damn, but this is who Ari hung out with in rehab? There’s a whole side of her I don’t know. And I’m going to rectify that right now.
* * *
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask Vee, fury simmering at the edge of my voice.
Vee looks between Melody and me, her gaze dancing back and forth like she’s trying to find the missing link. But the link is the girl who’s gone missing. The reason why I’m seething and about to lose my shit if someone doesn’t come forward with the truth.
“She didn’t want you to know, Ryder,” Vee says, sagging against the wall. “Her father sent some guy named Markus to pack her stuff…then Ari was gone.” She cringes. “She lost so much weight. I thought…I don’t know. That she had a bug or something. I could hear her in the bathroom at night losing her stomach. I was so worried about her.” She stares me in the eyes.
“She needed a doctor.”
“Shit, Vee.” I grip my hair at the roots. “Then why the hell didn’t you come to me?”
“You? Why would I?” She pushes off the wall and walks toward me. “You were the reason she was so worked up. The last thing I wanted was for you to come around and upset her even more.”
“Where did he take her?” I ask, completely over the whole thing. Ready to find out what I came here for. I’ll deal with my brooding guilt later. Vee doesn’t deserve my wrath. Besides, she’s right. How could I claim to be in love with Ari and not notice how sick she was? Even from a distance? How could I be that egotistical?
Vee shrugs. “Ari said they were taking her to the hospital. That once she got better, she’d be back.” Vee hugs her arms around herself. “But when I went there later that night, the doctor told me her family had checked her out already. He didn’t look happy about that at all.”
Motherfucker.
“Yeah, her dad’s a real piece of work,” Melody says. She looks at me. “We have to find her.”
I nod. “I know. I know.”
“Ryder,” Vee says, her voice low. “I’m sorry. I didn’t figure it out until it was too late.” Her green eyes brim with tears, and I deflate. All anger wiped from my system.
“It’s not…” I clear my throat. “It’s not your fault, Vee.”
Melody groans. “Hey, losing time here. Where do her parents live?” She glances between us, her dark eyes wide. “Sorry. Not to be insensitive, but we have got to get a move on.”
“I know where they live,” I say, remembering the last time I was there. A surge of shame floods me like a tidal wave as my last words to her reverberate against my skull.
Damn. I know what I have to do, and it will probably end with my ass in jail—but this time, I’m not quitting the fight. I should’ve never stopped fighting for her. Ari needs someone who will never give up.
I head for the door, but Vee grabs my arm. “I’m going with you.”