Left (Still Standing, #1)

by Graves, T. R.

  I square my shoulders and turn toward Ryker. "Don't worry. I can protect myself if I need to. I'm not the helpless victim you seem to think I am."

  Ryker glances toward me quickly and smirks. "Yes. I can tell you think you can. Just because you're telling the truth about what you think to be true doesn't mean you could actually fend off someone who is attacking you."

  I turn my head to the side. "You'll just have to trust me on this."

  With a quick glance my way and a wag of his brows, he says, "Maybe I'll have you prove it to me later."

  My face flushes, and I wonder how he can make the simplest of sentences sound so hot that I want to melt into him.

  Not wanting Mr. I-can-tell-you're-lying to read too much into my willingness to do just that, I turn toward the window and refuse to respond to his challenge.

  Ryker has no idea that Dr. Aaron Messenger—Dr. Aaron is the name everyone, including me, calls him—left me night after night while he worked at the hospital and summer after summer while he traveled to Africa. He had to give his full attention to his patients, which meant he couldn't afford to be worried about my safety and me. He made a decision to raise me to be strong and independent. Nothing would prevent him from doing just that.

  Besides, he'd seen with my mother what weakness and helplessness could do to someone.

  He didn't want me to be dependent on anyone. As such, I've been able to take care of myself since I was thirteen. He sent me to dozens of self-defense classes, thousands of Judo lessons, and he made me join him in becoming a licensed concealed handgun carrier. He did anything and everything he could do to educate me on the importance of defending and protecting myself.

  As soon as I think about Colt and his aversion to guns—despite the fact that he was born and raised in Texas—my chest aches with grief. Dr. Aaron didn't teach me the first thing on how to protect myself from heartbreak.

  I wish he had.

  As soon as I see the Commerce Towers, the downtown building where I've been living for the last two years, I begin hammering Ryker with details. "You can park in the garage underneath the building. Take the elevator to the twenty-fifth floor. The apartment number is 2504."

  He nods as if he knows exactly where he's going. After he pulls to the curb to let me out, I gently shut the door. I'm still completely intimidated by his car and am not prepared to be the person to get the first scratch on it.

  The instant I'm clear and on the sidewalk, he takes off, speeding toward the parking garage.

  Damn, he's fast! I better move quick.

  I race to the lobby elevators, impatiently wriggling while I wait. A few familiar neighbors join me, and I smile politely before climbing in and pushing the button labeled 25. A few floor stops later, I'm on the top floor and dashing toward my condo.

  There's a large metal light sconce outside of my door. I've never had to use the emergency key and am hoping the cleaning staff hasn't found and disposed of it.

  I'll climb the outside wall and break through the unbreakable glass before I call Colt and beg him to let me in.

  I stand on my toes and reach up. I can just barely touch it, but I know the key's hot. It's been sitting above a red-hot light for months. Rather than risk a burn, I flick my finger at the key, step to the side, and wait for it to drop to the ground. As soon as it hits the floor, I squat down and use the bottom of my dress to pick up the scalding piece of metal. A few seconds later, the door is unlocked.

  See... I don't need anyone.

  Inside, I drop the key into the bowl near the door. It's empty (no wallet, keys, or phone), so I know Colt's not here. Suddenly, the bowl becomes a symbol of me and my world without Colt. His absence within the apartment is palpable, and the fact that I've lost my roommate, best friend, and lover sends my world spinning. With an aching stomach, tight chest, and tears in my eyes, I look around at the apartment. When my glance stops on the roses Colt had delivered before I left last night, I fully understand the message that came with them.

  In a moment of clarity, I understand my mother and her actions. I'd always believed she was a coward who was weaker than the average person. As this unbearable loneliness hits me and threatens to drag me down, I completely understand how alluring the thought of putting an end to grief could—can—be.

  Images of my mother gently floating beneath the blood-stained bathwater flash through my head, making me wonder just how far she'd been pushed and how useless, powerless, and loveless she felt before she made the decision to take her own life and leave her ten-year-old daughter lost and alone... And guilty for not doing more.

  With the darkness of my mood, I realize how fortunate I am for Ryker and the way he's refused to let me spend today curled up in bed with my curtains closed, wallowing in self-pity.

  Pulling me from my thoughts, I hear a throat clear behind me. I don't look back. Not yet. Sniffling, I wipe tears from my eyes and curse myself for thinking of my mother and for being caught crying.

  He's a master at the study of human behavior, so I know the way I'd been staring at the stupid roses hasn't gone unnoticed by Ryker. Fortunately, he decides not to mention it.

  "Our day of adventure can't begin until you take the first step toward a shower and a new outfit, Baylee." Ryker's tone is gentle and light.

  I nod. I know he's determined to push me along today, keeping me as far away from depression as he possibly can. I grin back at him even though my heart's not in it.

  "You're right. I'm heading up now. There are drinks in the refrigerator. Make yourself at home," I say, walking toward the stairs.

  In record time, I'm out of the shower, my hair's been blow-dried and tied up in a high ponytail, and I'm dressed in a thin, comfortable summer dress and flat sandals. On my way out, I grab my purse, making sure I have everything I needed so desperately last night.

  Keys. Phone. Wallet. If Ryker does anything wrong, I can make my way back home without anyone's assistance.

  I'm closing my bedroom door behind me when I hear the front door open and close.

  "Baylee... are you here?" Colt calls through the apartment, and I hear the hope in his voice and wonder what that means.

  I take off running toward the stairs. Not because I'm desperate to be near Colt. Instead, I'm running because I'm not sure how the two alpha males downstairs will interact with each other. Colt may have dumped me, but he's not going to be happy about another man sniffing around this apartment... Or me.

  "Who the fuck are you, and what the fuck are you doing in my apartment?" Colt yells.

  By now, I'm galloping down the steps. Before I make it all the way down, I hear Ryker.

  "I'm a friend of Baylee's. She'll be down in a minute," Ryker says as casually as if he were the one who lived here and not Colt.

  When I make it into the main area of the apartment, I find Ryker sitting at the bar with a bottled water in front of him. He's reading a message on his phone and clicking a response.

  The easy way he ignores Colt is enviable.

  "Are you a friend from work?" Colt asks, looking at Ryker like he's a predator of small children.

  I intervene. "Colt, this is my friend," I say, stepping between the two men.

  Colt is madder than I've ever seen him until he sees me. The instant he lays eyes on me, he softens and takes several steps in my direction.

  "Jesus, babe, I've been so worried about you. Why haven't you answered my calls and texts? I even called Sabrina, and she told me she hasn't heard from you."

  Colt doesn't stop coming. A heartbeat later, he's so close I can see my reflection in his pupils. Bitter, I roll my eyes and chuckle.

  "Well, I'm not sure if you remember, but last night you left me for another woman. Even if I'd not been abandoned without a phone or any money... or my dignity, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have answered your calls or responded to your texts."

  A Colt that is hurting as badly as me gently takes me by the shoulders and pulls me into him. It isn't a hug. It's just a need to be closer to me.r />
  I stiffen, and I hear Ryker's audible growl behind me. Colt doesn't.

  "That's what I want to talk to you about, babe. I made a mistake. I never should have listened to Dad. He's wrong about you and me. After I left you last night, I knew it, and I've been trying to reach you ever since then. Will you ever be able to forgive me?"

  I can tell by his bloodshot and glassy eyes that he means what he's saying from the top of his head to the bottom of his toes, and I want to believe him with the same degree of fervor.

  I can't. I won't. He hurt me too bad, and Wyatt won't stop until Colt conforms.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Ryker stand. "I-I think this might be my cue to leave," he says before making his way toward the door.

  I pull myself away from Colt's grip and cup my hand around Ryker's balled-up fist as he passes by me.

  "No. You and I have a lovely day planned. Colt has a new girlfriend and an overbearing father to cater to."

  Colt's glare bounces from me to Ryker to our joined hands and gets angrier by the second. Then his stare makes its way back to Ryker's face.

  "You're the asshole from last night at the restaurant."

  Ryker taunts Colt. "There was an asshole there last night. It was the man who ignorantly left the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life, not me."

  Raising his eyes as realization sets in, Colt takes one step back. As if I'm the one who betrayed our relationship, Colt scowls at me and asks, "Did you sleep with him? We just broke up last night for Christ's sake!"

  The instant repulsion he has for me, the assumption that I would hop from one man's bed to another, the accusation that I'm a whore hurts. I'm not going to lie about that. But I refuse to let him know he's hurt me yet again.

  I don't dignify Colt's question with a response. Instead, I smile up at Ryker and ask, "Are you ready to go? We have plans."

  Ryker grins back at me, releases his balled-up fist, and intertwines our fingers before leading me toward the door.

  In an act that could only be considered desperate, Colt moves around us, steps in front of me, and grabs my shoulders in a painful, pinching grip.

  "You're not going to leave me like this. I said I was sorry. I know you love me. The sex we had two days ago would've never been that good if you didn't love me, Baylee. Just one more chance. That's all I ask. I swear it'll be different," Colt begs.

  I'm honestly weighing his words, their truth, the last four years, my love for this man when he shakes me with enough force to whip my head backward and then forward. An instant later, my neck is burning like someone is holding a hot towel around it.

  When Colt broke up with me, I thought that was the worst thing he could ever do to me. I was wrong. This act of violence from the man I love—I love... despite his decision to leave me—shocks me unlike anything else could have.

  Before I know what's happened, Ryker has snatched Colt's hands away from my shoulders, drawn back his fist, and landed a punch squarely on Colt's jaw. Colt's hands snap to his jaw. After a few shakes of his head, he looks like he's had good sense beat back into him, though he's not happy at all that it was Ryker who did it.

  "I-I'm sorry, Baylee. I-I didn't mean to do that," he says, confused. "I just want you to stay... to know I love you. That's all."

  Ryker isn't moved or touched. He's outraged. "If you ever lay another fucking hand on her, I'll come back and kill you. Do you understand me?" Ryker yells, and I don't doubt one word he's just uttered. I know Colt well enough to know he believes him also.

  "I've never hit her before. I-I wouldn't do that. I love her," Colt contends. He's disgusted with himself... with everything he's done to me.

  "Really? You have a weird way of showing it. Let's get out of here, Baylee," Ryker says, grabbing my hand, refusing to leave without me in tow. "Pack your shit and get out," Ryker orders Colt as if he owned the place.

  I'm too stunned to do anything but follow Ryker. Behind me, I hear a tearful moan from Colt. "I love you, babe. Don't leave me. We can get married," Colt offers as his final act of desperation.

  There are all kinds of ways I expected that proposal to come, but not once did I expect it to come as a last resort. It didn't have the slightest hint of the romantic traits—on one knee, with a beautiful ring, and eyes filled with tears of love, adoration, and joy—that I've been envisioning my entire life.

  I don't remember anything from the time we leave the apartment until the time we're back in Ryker's car speeding along the freeway and heading west.

  Where are we going?

  As if waking from a dream, I begin noticing everything around me. Ryker is gripping one of my hands like he's holding on for dear life. The other is shaking like I'm having a seizure. I take it and slide it underneath my leg, hoping to get something in my life under control.

  "I can categorically tell you that the best cure for what ails you is not more of it," I state, and my voice is as shaky as my hand.

  It takes Ryker less than a second to comprehend that I'm suggesting his hair of the dog that bit you theory is a bunch of shit... again.

  He glances over to me and offers me a timid smile before saying, "I'm going to have to agree with you on that point, Bay."

  Acting on the same kind of instinct I'd acted on earlier when I held his hand the first time, Ryker takes our joined hands and puts them to his mouth, kissing each individual knuckle.

  Holy hell! That's sexy!

  I don't move. I just close my eyes and bask in the soft, gentle kisses he's brushing along the back of my hand and his warm breath as it tickles my skin.

  Holy hell! He's sexy!

  A few minutes of his very intimate attention and I've nearly forgotten all about Colt and his act of violence.

  "Where are we going?" My words are more like a delighted hum than anything else by the time he finishes kissing my knuckles.

  Ryker hesitates. "I thought it might be in your best interest if you got out of town for the weekend."

  I feel my forehead wrinkle and open an eye to look at him. "What?"

  "Listen, we can go back to Houston if you want... but if you'll humor me, I thought we could spend the rest of the weekend in San Antonio," Ryker says, looking over his shoulder and switching lanes.

  "I don't know. I don't even have a change of clothes, a toothbrush, or any makeup with me," I say, seriously contemplating his offer while thinking about all the reasons I should decline.

  Ryker chuckles. "We'll stay at the Riverwalk Marriott... in separate rooms, if that's what you want," Ryker adds suggestively. "There's a mall attached. You can get anything you want or need there."

  I think even longer and harder about his plan, one that I would never have thought of considering before last night.

  "Okay," I say, simply.

  Ryker is thrilled. As soon as I agree, he pushes the gas and we speed in earnest toward San Antonio.

  CHAPTER 8

  A GIRL'S BEST FRIEND

  Baylee

  By the time we make it to San Antonio, Ryker and I have had several hours of comfortable silence. He's only let go of my hand one time and that was just long enough for me to turn off my phone after Colt began blowing it up with calls and messages.

  On our peaceful ride, I've come to some decisions as it relates to Colt and the future of our relationship. Colt and I will talk later... much later. I have no intention of ending a wonderful (all but the last two days) four-year relationship on this note. Right now, neither of us is in the right place to have a productive conversation that will result in a lifelong friendship. If we talk now, we run the risk of becoming lifelong enemies, and everything about that fate pains me. I want Colt to be someone I can depend on even if we aren't in a relationship. If we take the time we need for ourselves, we can end up being in each other's lives in a healthy way... the way we should be given everything we've shared.

  Ryker pulls into the entrance for Marriott's valet parking, and the two of us climb out while the young Hispanic valet attendant named R
icco takes Ryker's car away. The Bugatti is amazing, but after being in it for a few hours, I'm happy to get out and stretch my legs.

  Ryker grabs my hand again and leads me into the massive lobby of the hotel. Like always, Ryker looks like he owns the place as he elegantly strolls past all of the turning heads and over to the front desk where we're met by a woman who is immediately enamored by Ryker's beauty. She gives him her undivided attention, batting her eyes and flipping her hair over her shoulder.

  I watch Ryker to see if he's taking notes on her gestures, if he sees what I see. I may not be the studier of human nature Ryker claims to be, but I'm a woman who knows what other women do when they're flirting. He seems oblivious. I wonder if it's just an act.

  "How can I help you, sir?" Ms. Flirty says, using her most seductive tone.

  "We need two rooms. I'd like for them to be adjoining," Ryker says.

  "Let me see what we have, Mr...?" Ms. Flirty wants Ryker's last name.

  Holy shit! I just traveled to a new city with this man, and I have no idea what his last name is.

  "Russell."

  While Ryker deals with the room situation, I scan the lobby and admire the giant star light fixtures hanging from the multiple story ceiling as well as the elegant human figure-like sculptures littering the lobby and separating the front desk from the area where guests sit and wait.

  "We have two adjoining concierge level rooms, and both have king-sized beds. Will that be acceptable?" Ms. Flirty asks, batting her eyes and giving Ryker a beautiful welcome to San Antonio and I'd love to fuck you smile.

  Like so many of the people in San Antonio, she's Hispanic and has dark hair and eyes, flawless skin, and beautifully round curves. I can't help but resent her God-given beauty and shape.

  Ryker lets go of my hand just long enough to grab his wallet. When he does, I riffle through my purse with every intention of paying for my own room. I don't want to owe him any more than I already do.