“God, we’re such losers.” Jamie giggled, and again his heart did that thing it did whenever he heard the sound.
Ryder dipped his thumbs into the waistband of Jamie’s boxers, letting them fall down her legs. “Happy losers,” he said with a grin, then with a kiss.
Jamie and Ryder fucked on the kitchen counter. He ate her out on the couch, then she came on his fingers in the shower.
Two-hours later, Ryder woke up to find Jamie sitting crossed-legged on the floor with her computer in her lap and newspaper clippings scattered everywhere.
He watched in amusement as she worked in silence. She was beautiful when she went into work mode, slightly scary, but gorgeous. Watching her was like watching a chase scene in the Fast and Furious. Every move was choreographed to the second. Her fingers would glide over the keys, stilling every so often. Her bright greens would focused on the words, then there was the scowl, his favorite part. With her lips turned down, she’d scribble frantically in her notebook, then her fingers would hit the keys again.
Wash.
Rinse.
Repeat.
Ryder climbed out of bed, his mattress squeaked under the pressure, but Jamie’s fingers never stopped moving. He toed over to the dresser and swiped his sketch pad. Between Lithium Springs and spending time with Kitty Cat, he rarely sketched anymore. He leaned against the cheap wood, studying her angles for a minute, maybe longer. The curve of her jaw, the arch of her back, the pucker of her lips. She was poetry. She was art. She was the cutest little hunchback he’d ever seen. His hand moved on autopilot as he pressed the charcoal to the page, quickly sketching her form.
“What are you doing?” she asked, not bothering to look up from her work.
“Drawing you,” he muttered, also not bothering to look up.
“Now?” she shrieked. “I look like shit.” Jamie freed her hair from the messy bun and quickly ran her fingers through.
Ryder didn’t have the heart to tell her that only made it worse. What he did say wasn’t much better. “Since when do you care?”
“Okay, one—fuck you. Two—I don’t want to be immortalized in your sketch pad looking like I haven’t showered in days,” she huffed, climbing up to her feet. She stretched, tugging up the too big shorts hanging from her body. The thrill of seeing her in his clothes never went away. It probably never would.
Ryder rolled his eyes and dropped the notebook before taking her in his arms. “You. Are. Beautiful,” he said, punctuating each word with a kiss.
Leaning up on her tiptoes, Jamie returned the gesture. “I. Am. Hungry.”
He chuckled. “I think there’s more of that chicken we can’t afford downstairs.”
“That sounds amazing,” she moaned. The sound quickly drowned out by the frantic ringing of her phone. Jamie padded over to the nightstand to retrieve it. It’s Chris, she mouthed, before answering. “Hey little brother… Oh, Parker, hi, what’s wrong?” Her eyes flew to Ryder’s and the amusement drained from her face. Gripping the edge of the nightstand for support, she choked, ”which hospital?”
A low buzz emitted from the fluorescent lights overhead as Jamie and Ryder rushed through the emergency room doors. The stench of bleach filled the air, causing Ryder’s stomach to roll. The urge to turn around and walk back out the sliding glass was strong, but his desire to protect the woman beside him, manically gnawing on her knuckle, was stronger.
Ryder had spent his fair share of time in hospital waiting rooms, clinging to his mother’s battered form. Once, while she waited to have her broken nose set after running into a door (his father’s fist), and another time, when she fractured her ankle tripping over a shoe, (his dad pushed her down the stairs). Those moments were burned in his memories. They were what he saw every time he thought about making amends with his mother. How could she talk to him after all that? His brain wouldn’t accept it.
The small waiting room was quiet and eerily still. A slight Asian woman, with a child draped across her lap, sat in the corner. Her face was stoic but her eyes betrayed her. Worry. No doubt about the sleeping little boy snuggled into her waist. An older man with a gruff exterior stood against the opposite wall, his white-gray head rested against a poster spouting the importance of washing your hands. Then there was Parker. He sat on the floor with his knees pulled into his chest. His eyes were puffy, and he rocked back and forth methodically.
Jamie’s hand tightened around Ryder’s. It was the first sign of life he’d seen since they’d hastily thrown on clothes and made the drive to the hospital. He feared she was shutting down, shutting him out again, but that tiny squeeze of his hand reassured him that his Jamie was still there.
“Parker,” she said. Her tone was soft, but echoed in the soundless space. Dropping to her knees she asked, ”What happened?”
Parker met Jamie’s gaze, his voice broken. “We got home from a late dinner. I was in the shower and the next thing I know, Chris was stumbling into the bathroom, doubled over, saying his stomach hurt. He’d been complaining about it for the last couple of days. I told him he should see a doctor, I swear, but he insisted it was nothing. It was his appendix. People can die from that.”
“It’s okay,” Jamie murmured, rubbing soothing strokes up and down his arm. “He’s going to be okay. Where is he now?”
Parker sucked in a breath, doing his best to compose himself. “They took him back for emergency surgery, and told me to wait here. Since I’m not family they can’t tell me anything. Can you believe that? I love that man, and I know him better than anyone else, but none of it matters. I can’t be there for him when he needs me most.”
“Park, you’re here. It matters,” Jamie assured, but her voice was drowned out by the ominous sound of high heels slamming into linoleum.
Click-clack.
Click-clack.
Click-clack.
Everyone in the waiting room turned to see the older, blonde woman sashaying through the entrance. Watching her was trippy. It was like Ryder was looking into a funhouse mirror version of his girlfriend. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a low bun, and despite the hour and the gravity of the situation, she looked like she’d been professionally styled for the occasion. Not a single hair out of place.
“James, Parker, boy for whom James gave up her trust,” the woman shrilled.
“You know his name, Mother,” Jamie drawled in annoyance. She and Parker rose to their feet. Parker placed a kiss on her cheek, then she and Jamie did this awkward hug, shuffle thing.
“Parker, dear, Archer is under a lot of stress right now thanks to these two,” she said flicking her wrist at Kitty Cat. “I understand your feelings for my son, but please try to keep it together when my husband gets here.”
Parker and Jamie looked at each other, stunned. ”Did Chris tell you?” they asked in unison.
“I’m not blind,” Caroline huffed in annoyance. “My husband is a busy man. He doesn’t always pay attention to what’s going on at home, but I do. I know my children. Christopher looks at you the way the felon is looking at James.”
Jamie stared at her mother with wide-eyed shock. Silence descended on the waiting room while everyone tried to process what was happening. Ryder didn’t know much about Jamie’s family dynamic, but he did know Chris and Parker’s official relationship status was kept secret from their parents. Apparently, Jamie’s mother wasn’t as clueless as she pretended to be.
The doors swooshed open again, and though Ryder had never met the man, he knew it was Jamie’s dad without a doubt.
Burt. Fucking. Eastwood.
He wore a black turtleneck, gray slacks, and the face of the fucking devil. Instinctively, Ryder tightened his grip on Jamie, pulling her away from her mother. Caroline, as Parker called her, clicked her tongue disapprovingly, shooting him a look that said, knock it off.
Jamie’s dad looked every bit the part of imposing CEO. He stood tall, but not as tall as Ryder. His dark hair was gray at the temples, and his gait was sure, like he owned the plac
e and everyone in it. His brow creased as he glanced around the waiting room. He spotted them and relief washed across his face as his eyes met his wife’s, but it was short lived. Ryder could see the steam coming from his ears as he walked towards them. Ryder’s hand slid around Jamie’s mid-section and he pulled her closer, flush against his chest, partly to stake his claim and partly to keep himself from lunging at the bastard.
“Archer, you made it,” Caroline greeted her husband. The two had an odd dynamic. They were husband and wife, but the way they interacted was more like a business partnership, and less like a relationship. It was all so professional, not one ounce of passion or love; comfortable, but not entirely familiar.
Archer’s gaze stayed on Ryder as he spoke. “Parker, what happened?”
“They think it’s his appendix.”
Jamie’s dad nodded tersely. “Well, we want to thank you for bringing him in. You look exhausted and I’m sure you have more important things to do with your Saturday than wait around the emergency room. Go, enjoy the rest of your night, and take James’ friend with you.”
“I’m not leaving him.”
“I’m not leaving her.”
Both men spoke in unison.
“Well then,” Caroline sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “let’s have a seat.”
The group went and sat along the left wall. A television was mounted in the corner, WSEA-9 played silently in the background. Caroline sat between Parker and her husband, while Ryder pulled Jamie onto his lap across from them.
“James,” her mother said tightly, “don’t you think it would be more appropriate to take your own seat?”
Jamie sighed, rolling her green eyes as she moved to stand, but Ryder held her into place. “She’s fine,” he bit. He knew he was pushing his luck, but these people were done controlling her.
“James, will you tell your friend—” Archer began.
“I’m not her friend.” There was a challenge buried just beneath Ryder’s words. His hate for Archer blurred his vision. This man was the reason Jamie was so broken. He placed expectations on her body, and set limitations on her heart. Ry fought like hell, wading through all the muck inside Kitty Cat’s head and he’d be damned if he’d let her backslide now.
“You’re not her boyfriend either,” Archer stated matter-of-factly.
“Archer,” Caroline warned, “this isn’t the time nor is it the place.”
Archer ignored his wife. He ignored the devastation on his daughter and Parker’s faces. His focus wasn’t on his son being in surgery. It was on Ryder’s hand on Jamie’s thigh. He was under his skin. Ry presented a threat to his precious empire. “You aren’t half the man Jared is. She will never choose you over her family.”
“You aren’t her family. I am.” Ryder’s lips twisted into a condescending smirk. “She calls me Daddy more than she does you.”
“Enough,” Parker yelled. The woman in the corner holding the little boy looked over at them with a pointed glare. “Chris is in there fighting for his life and you two are having some weird dick measuring contest.”
“It’s his appendix Park, you’re being a little dramatic,” Archer chided.
“No, you’re being an asshole. Your son is in surgery and your daughter and wife are upset and all you can think of is your failing, fucking company.”
“Watch yourself, son.”
“No, this is sick. You can’t control them anymore. I’ve never seen Jamie smile as much as she does when she’s with him,” he said pointing to Ryder.
Archer’s jaw ticked. “I think it’s time for you to go, Parker.”
“I’m not going anywhere. You are the one who isn’t wanted here, not by Jamie and not by Chris.”
“How would you know what my children want? They don’t even know what they want. They’re young and rebellious but they’ll fall in line.”
“Jamie gave up five million dollars to get away from you, and Chris—”
“—is none of your concern,” Archer said, his brow raised in challenge.
Parker chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound. “Chris calls me daddy more than he does you,” he hissed before storming towards the nurse’s station.
Ryder laughed, a deep, belly laugh and Jamie elbowed him in the rib. “Stop,” she gritted, standing. “I’m going to check on Park.”
A fuming Archer grabbed his daughter by the elbow and yanked her back. Ryder saw red. He moved without thinking. Before he could stop himself, he was on his feet. Rearing back, he swung so hard he felt the crunch of cartilage breaking under his fist. The impact sent Archer backwards into the chair.
“If you ever touch her again, I will fucking kill you.”
“You shouldn’t have hit him,” Jamie sighed, walking Ryder out to her car. A million possible outcomes ran through her mind and none of them were good. “Did you see his face? It was exactly what he wanted.” There was no masking Archer’s twisted pleasure. It was his gotcha face. Her father was a calculating son of a bitch, and Jamie could see the wheels spinning the minute he spotted Ryder in the waiting room. Archer’s eyes never strayed far from him. It was more than intimidation, he studied him.
This was her fault. She knew better than to bring Ryder with her, but she had been so shaken when she got off the phone with Parker, he’d refused to let her drive.
“He shouldn’t have put his hands on you,” Ryder grunted, his hazels darkening to chocolate pools of wrath.
Her steps faltered and her eyes burned as she looked at him. The bright LED lights dotted throughout the parking lot made everything shine with a startling clarity. “Baby,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I love that you protect me, but he’s my dad, he wouldn’t—”
“Stop with that shit. He pimped you out at sixteen, he’s still trying to pimp you out. Don’t fucking defend him to me.”
“I’m not. I’m just worried about my brother and I don’t need to worry about you, too.” It wasn’t entirely the truth, she was already worried about Ryder. He was her true north, her sex god. The bright and shiny star in her otherwise gray existence.
“Kitty Cat, I’m not afraid of your father. I want to go back in there and kick his ass.”
“Please, just go home,” she begged. She’d get on her knees if she had too. “I’ll be there once I find out what’s going on with Chris.”
Ryder’s jaw ticked and his grip on her waist tightened. She could tell he wanted to argue, but was holding back. “Text me when you’re ready and I’ll come pick you up.”
“No, I don’t want you to come back here,” she implored. Jamie didn’t want Ryder, her angel, anywhere near the devil.
“I’ll get an Uber. I want you to be able to bail if you need to.” He fished her car keys out of his pocket and handed them to her. He had a point. It was always a good idea to have an escape plan when dealing with her family.
Six minutes later, a burgundy Corolla pulled to a stop in front of them. The pit in Jamie’s stomach grew. She wished he could stay, but it was too risky. “I love you, Napoleon.”
“I love you, James.” Ryder pressed a kiss on her temple, and she watched as he slid into the backseat. “Call me as soon as you find out about your brother.”
“I promise.” Jamie stayed rooted in place, watching as the car drove off. She brought her tattooed finger to her lips and exhaled. The feel of warm breath against her skin reminded her to keep going, to keep fighting, so that’s exactly what she did.
Her keys jingled with each step towards the ER, the rattle of discord. Her father looked deranged, gauze shoved in his nose, a smirk etched on his face. This was bad, she knew, but she held her head high because in her family, appearances meant more than feelings. If Archer sensed her worry he’d attack, nipping at her flesh until it was stripped to the bone. The Devil, her father, was a vulture, and nothing, not even his own seed, would stand in the way of him and his next meal.
“Are you okay?” she asked despite herself. She didn’t care one way
or the other, but she didn’t know what else to say.
“I’m better than I’ve been in a long while, James.”
A security guard approached, clipboard in hand. “Sir, would you like me to call the police?”
The police. Jamie hadn’t thought of it, but now that the words were out there floating in the atmosphere, she couldn’t think of anything else. Images of Ryder flashed in her brain. Him with his hands cuffed behind his back, standing shoulder to shoulder in a line up, his crumpled face behind a thick wall of bullet proof glass, every awful thing she knew about prison from television assaulted her.
Archer’s eyes lit up with dubious intent. “What do you think, James? Your little felon attacked me. Should he be punished?”
“No,” Jamie cried, her gaze darting from her father to the security officer, “It was a family squabble. My brother is in surgery, things got a little heated, but it’s fine. Everything is going to be fine.”
“Is it?” Archer’s voice was low, menacing.
She knew, in that moment, she fucking knew, he had her. Jamie’s heart stopped. The world stopped. A catch twenty-two. Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she whispered, “It is.”
The security officer looked again to Archer. “Would you prefer coming with me to give your official version of events?” he asked, clicking the top of his pen.
“It’s like my daughter said, just a family squabble, best to handle it amongst ourselves, but thank you,” he said, his eyes locked on Jamie.
The officer pulled a card from the clipboard and handed it to Archer. “Call if anything should change.”
“Will do.” Archer nodded, pocketing the card.
Jamie returned to her seat. Her mother watched her, but didn’t speak. The Asian woman and her child were gone. The old man was gone. Parker was gone. The Manning’s were left alone to resume their negotiations.
“Your brother is a faggot,” Archer stated, coolly. The Manning children thought their parents were so wrapped up in their own lives, their own wants, that they didn’t have time to pay attention to them. Jamie should have known better.
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