by S. Nelson
Jagger finally came over to see me. “Are you okay, Braylen? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“Shit. I’m sorry. I really thought you being here would’ve calmed him down. Instead I think I made it worse.” Jagger looked so distraught. I felt bad for the guy.
“I’m fine,” I repeated. “Really. Don’t worry about me.” I tried to see if Ryder was still in the room with us, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. “Where did they take him?”
“They dragged him to his room and cuffed him to the bed.”
“They can’t do that. Oh my God.” I tried to shove past Jagger, but he caught me midstride, pulling me back toward him. “Let go. Please. I need to see him.”
“Uh-uh. No way, Braylen. Not a chance in hell. I learned my lesson the first time. You’re not going near him until he sobers up. And even then. . . .”
My body tensed as I asked, “Even then what? Finish what you were gonna say.”
“When he sobers up, if he remembers you being here and that you hurt yourself because of him, he won’t forgive himself.”
“It’s only my wrist,” I said, gingerly holding my arm. “I’ll show him I’m okay. That he didn’t really hurt me.” I pleaded with him to release me so I could at least check on Ryder, but he held firm, ushering me toward the exit.
“Kena, I need you to take your sister home. Now.” Looking at me, he said, “For your own good . . . you’re not allowed back here to see him. Do you understand me?”
I remained silent because there were no words sufficient to convey my distress.
“Do you understand me?”
Finally I nodded, Kena helping to hold me upright while guiding me outside.
Ryder
The clink of steel rattled and drew me out of my haziness. I moved my limb and the noise sounded again, the soreness creeping down my extended arm causing me to flinch. In truth, I felt like I’d been run over by a goddamn Mack truck. Everything pained me, from my temple to my jaw, to my ribs and arms. Hell, even my tailbone hurt, although I couldn’t fathom why.
“Fuck,” I grunted, not quite sure what the hell was goin’ on. Only half opening my eyes, partly because I was beyond exhausted and partly because my head was gonna explode as soon as the light spearing in through the window hit my pupils, I glanced warily around the room. It was mine, at the clubhouse.
Why am I here?
Craning my neck, I looked toward the iron headboard and saw my left wrist cuffed to one of the rungs, my flesh reddened from the pressure of its grip.
“Hey!” I shouted as loud as my lungs would allow, which wasn’t much. The effort instantly made my head hurt, thumping so badly I could feel the bile rise in my throat. Still dressed from the night before, I scooted over toward the edge of the bed and placed my foot on the ground, and I stomped with my heavy boot. When minutes passed and still no one came, I searched my immediate area to see if there was something I could use instead. I couldn’t find anything, so I clumsily removed one of the boots I’d been wearing, and with as much strength as I could muster I flung it at the door. It thumped against the hollow wood, and within seconds I heard someone walking down the hallway.
“You better be back to normal,” a gruff voice said, the door slowly opening. Jagger’s face appeared, and when he gave me a quick once-over, deciding I wasn’t any kind of threat, he strolled forward. How much of a threat could I be restrained to a bed?
He looked tired, like he’d been through the ringer. When he pushed his hair away from his face, I saw a pretty nasty bruise near his eye. “Did you have a fight last night?”
“Yeah,” he scoffed. “With your ragin’ ass.”
At first I thought he was joking, but then I realized that he was tellin’ the truth. Otherwise, why would I have been handcuffed? I could only recall bits and pieces, not enough for me to fully understand what went down.
Shaking his head, and with a pained expression of disappointment, he removed a key from the front pocket of his jeans. “I can’t believe you did this again, man.” He leaned over me and unlocked the restraint, letting it dangle around the bottom of the bar once I’d freed myself. “You promised us all last time that it was, well, the last time.”
“Cut me some slack,” I argued, not entirely sure what made me break my promise to my brothers never to get as out of control as I had the last time. “I don’t even remember what happened.”
“You never do,” he retorted.
I’d been good for years, but obviously something had pushed me over the edge. Rubbing my temples, I asked, “What did I do? Where did I get the whiskey from?” I’d always given the guys slack for not allowing me to drink the hard shit when we were together, threatening to sneak some behind their backs. Hell, I could’ve stopped by the liquor store at any time and bought some, but I’d made a promise. To them and myself.
Whenever I had mentioned needing something stronger than beer, they’d shout for Trigger to keep an eye on me, or tell Carla to make sure to serve me only beer whenever we swung by Indulge to check things out. To be honest, I loved that they looked out for me, as I would for any one of them.
“You’re askin’ me?”
His humorless laugh irritated me, but not because I was pissed at him. I was upset with myself. Disappointed even, that I allowed something to affect me so greatly that I threw all caution to the wind and said goodbye to any restraint I’d been holding onto.
“How did I get here?”
“You just showed up, already annihilated as you stumbled through the door.”
“Did I say anything?” Stretching my neck, careful not to jostle my head too much for fear the pounding in my brain would increase, I prayed Jagger could give me some kind of answer.
“You were shouting something about not being able to do it. That someone stole something from you and that he made the wrong choice. . . .” Jagger’s voice drifted off, his words jumbling together as I desperately tried to recall just what the hell he was talking about.
Then a splintered memory rushed in, an image of an older man lying on the ground with blood running down on his face. Who was he? Clutching strands of my hair, I closed my eyes and willed more images to come forth, but there was nothing. Not until a flash of Braylen popped up, the look of worry and helplessness laced in her eyes . . . for me.
“Braylen.” I opened my eyes and found Jagger sitting on the edge of the bed. “Was she here last night?” My body tensed with the thought that she’d witnessed me at my lowest. My worst.
“Yeah,” he whispered, knowing his answer would send me back into a tailspin. Not nearly of the same caliber as the prior night, but enough to break me further.
“No, no, no,” I repeated, pacing while trying to calm myself. I knew in my gut that whatever had caused me to freak out was bad, and for Braylen to see me like that, after all she’s already been through, was unforgivable.
“It gets worse,” he confessed, standing before tentatively approaching.
My lungs refused to work. My legs locked into place and I braced myself for what he was gonna say next.
“You shoved her.”
“Who?” I knew who he was referring to, but I asked the question anyway.
“Braylen. You grabbed her when she was trying to help you. Then you pushed her away from you and she fell. I think she hurt her wrist even though she said she was fine. She begged me to see you after we carted you off, but for obvious reasons I told her no.”
Shaking my head, ignoring the pain radiating behind my eyes, all I could do was stand there in disbelief. Not only had my outburst brought chaos to the club, but I’d injured my woman in the process. She had to know that wasn’t me. I would never hurt her. Not even if my life depended on it.
Right before I stormed out of the room to go look for Braylen, every muscle in my body still tender and aching, I stalked toward Jagger. His eyes averted from mine briefly before reconnecting.
“Why was Braylen even here last night?” I had my suspicions
; I just needed him to confirm them.
“Uh . . . ’cause I called her.”
I didn’t even let him continue before I was on him, shoving him against the wall, my forearm pinning him in place. Under normal circumstances, Jagger could give me a run for my money, probably even best me given the right opportunity. The guy was twelve years my junior and was a champion fighter. But right then he knew not to move a fuckin’ muscle. He knew he was wrong for calling Braylen to the club while I was out of my mind.
“Why would you do that? Why would you let her see me like that?” I was more hurt than I was embarrassed.
“Because,” he scowled, “you were the worst I’ve ever see you. Whatever happened seemed to have sucked the life out of you, and I needed to do something.”
I pulled him forward a few inches before slamming him against the wall again.
“So you put her in danger?” I was livid. How stupid can he be?
“I thought she could help you. I really did,” he said when I glared at him in disbelief. “I see the way you are when you’re around her. You’re . . . calmer. I can’t explain it, but I see it.”
I knew exactly what he was talking about because it was the truth. Braylen soothed me in ways I myself couldn’t explain.
“You still shouldn’t’ve called her.”
“I know that now,” he admitted.
I stepped back but remained close.
“Is there a problem here?” Stone asked, waltzing into my room and frowning at Jagger and me.
I didn’t answer right away because I wasn’t sure which emotion to claim. I was angry Jagger had called Braylen to come and see me, thinking she could help in some way. Even though I knew his intentions were driven from concern for me, she ended up getting hurt.
“Is there a problem?” our VP repeated. “Because I can get in on this too.” Stone glared at me, completely ignoring Jagger because he knew the issue resided with me.
“No,” I finally answered, taking a few more steps away from Jagger. Looking more closely at Stone, I pointed at his face and asked, “Did I do that?” His bottom lip was split, and there was a small bruise on his jaw.
“Yeah, ya bastard. You’re lucky I didn’t feel it, or I would’ve fucked you up.” His smirk told me he’d already forgiven me. “But it gets me some extra lovin’ from Addy, so I’m not really complaining.”
Stone had a condition called congenital insensitivity to pain. Lucky bastard. And I knew Adelaide. Any mark on her man and she was driven to care for him, make him feel better even though she knew he wasn’t affected by it. I figured it was the nurse in her.
“So what now?” I asked, plopping down on the edge of my bed.
“You take a shower ’cause you still smell like a brewery, grab something to eat and go make sure your woman is okay,” Jagger said so matter-of-factly, as if I would’ve argued with him.
“Sounds good to me.” Normally, before Braylen had come into my life, I would’ve escaped to my house for the better part of a week, ignoring everyone because of the guilt of my freak-out. But everything was different now. Not only did I have to make sure she was okay, I had to make sure she continued to be safe. It was my job, and for once in a very long time I had a purpose, other than my part in the club.
As I washed away the prior evening, all I could think about was how I hoped Braylen had some sort of insight as to what I’d been rambling about. My gut told me she’d be able to clue me in, but maybe that was simply desperation talking.
Braylen
Tossing and turning because I’d hardly gotten any sleep, I was startled when Kena threw open my bedroom door and barged in. Her long dark hair was piled high on top of her head, sticking out in all different directions and making her look like a crazy person.
“My God, woman. You scared me,” I cried out, clutching my chest while being careful of my sore wrist. With everything that’d happened, I knew it could’ve been worse. Never having seen Ryder in such a way truly scared me, but I’d been more worried than frightened. I’d witnessed him drunk before but never violent. His eyes had never been vacant, and I’d never seen him so . . . lost.
Someone is here to see you. He looks pretty desperate, so go easy on him. Kena knew I would shoot first, then ask questions later, so she was right to give me her warning. What she didn’t realize was that I wasn’t angry with Ryder. All of my thoughts were consumed by what had happened to him. Jagger mentioned the guys cuffing him to his bed. Had he fought against the restraint and hurt himself?
My whirlwind thoughts flipped from being worried about the man to realizing that he softened me, so to speak. My temper still existed, my protective side over those I loved still fueling my mouth when need be, but I knew I was changing. Whether or not I embraced it was another story.
Flinging off the covers, I didn’t even have my feet planted on the carpet before Ryder strode into my room. The sight of him made me feel helpless all over again, his flesh torn apart in places and bruised from fighting with his friends, and from whatever happened that had driven him to lose himself to the evils of the amber liquid he poured down his throat.
“What are you doing here?” Surprised he was even standing in front of me, especially after Jagger had indicated that Ryder would probably not want to see me anytime soon due to guilt, I leaned back on the bed, as if the small amount of distance would save me from a plethora of questions and emotions.
He didn’t utter a word as he stalked toward me, reaching me with a few long strides. His hand shot out and wrapped around my waist, hoisting me off the bed and into his arms before I could say anything else. Kena closed the door behind her as she left to give us some privacy.
“Jagger told me what happened to you. I’m so sorry, Bray. Please forgive me.”
The warmth from his body relaxed me, the all-too-familiar scent of him enveloping me until all I wanted to do was exist in his embrace. But I knew we had to have a serious talk, so I prepared myself to be strong enough to accept whatever he chose to reveal.
Pulling back so he could see my face, he said, “I would never intentionally hurt you, you know that, right?” He feared I viewed him as a violent man. In some aspects I knew he was, but never with me. I knew in my heart that he would never physically hurt me.
Emotionally . . . that was yet to be determined. He was a man, after all, and men were stupid when it came to affairs of the heart, especially one who’d never truly given himself to anyone before.
One thing at a time, though.
“I know,” I answered, leaning back into him to try and soothe the both of us. “I know,” I repeated.
A shiver shot through his body, his shoulders twitching before he kissed the top of my head. We stood locked together for countless moments, remaining silent, reveling in the comfort of the other.
The tall, muscular, tough and conflicted man holding me close had so many dimensions, some of which I’d borne witness to and some he guarded with his life, too afraid to let others see. But we were making progress. I believed Ryder was almost ready to let me all the way in, his being there with me a sign he truly cared.
Finally separating, he guided me back to the edge of the bed, sitting beside me and reaching for my hands. I winced when he touched my right wrist.
“Let me see.”
I pulled my arm back because I didn’t want him to focus on the fact that I’d hurt myself, not badly, but he’d see it as a failure on his part, as if he was completely to blame for what happened to me.
He was and he wasn’t. I chose to approach him while I knew he wasn’t in his right mind. I thought I could get through to him, but he’d been too far gone to truly see me. Besides, it wasn’t like he ran at me and knocked me on my ass. I knew it was an accident. I just had to make sure he never allowed himself to get into such a state ever again.
“I’m fine.”
“Again with that word.” A half smile graced his mouth before his expression fell back into a serious one. “I wanna see your wrist.” He h
eld out his palm and patiently waited for me to place my hand in his. Finally, I gave in. The sooner he inspected me, the sooner we could move on.
Gently handling me, he turned my wrist from side to side, feeling all around by gingerly pressing the pads of his fingers along the area. “There’s some minor swelling, but I don’t think you broke anything. You really should have this wrapped. Do you have any bandages?”
“In the cupboard, under the sink in the bathroom,” I replied, pointing toward the hallway. He rose from the bed, and right before he left, he turned back to look at me. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Thinking better of whatever he was going to say, he clamped his lips shut before disappearing, only to reenter my room two minutes later.
“You have a lot of crap under the sink.” The mattress dipped as he sat back down next to me.
“That’s not all mine. Some of it is Kena’s.” A mundane topic, but just the kind of normality I needed in order to soak up my nervousness. Not from Ryder bandaging my wrist but from discovering what was going to happen in the next several minutes. Heck, hours, even weeks.
I watched as he carefully wrapped my wrist, cautious not to tighten the cloth too much for fear of hurting me, applying just the right amount of pressure for the bandage to effectively do its job.
His focus was laser sharp, and in any other situation, I would’ve found it rather comical. The narrowing of his brows. The way the tip of his tongue peeked out from behind his full lips. The twitch in his jaw when I flinched ever so slightly. Gone was the brooding, sometimes arrogant and infuriating man, replaced with someone who was concerned about the smallest injury, his carefulness not to injure me further mixed with regret and worry that I’d distance myself from him because of what happened. He never spoke those exact words, but he didn’t have to. He had very expressive eyes, and I hadn’t seen his tell until right then.
As he finished up, placing a piece of tape around the end of the bandage, he inspected his work before resting my hand back on my lap.