Sanctuary (the Affliction Trilogy #2)

Chapter 14

Fourteen

R yland's schedule is demanding. For the past two weeks, he's worked every weeknight, and his weekends are jam-packed with training exercises. Our new ritual of dinner in the park is always rushed. We barely have enough time to eat before he has to leave. This isn't at all how I pictured our dating life—hurried meals, stolen kisses, and conversations that are cut short, leaving us both yearning for more. It's like our relationship's is progressing at a painfully slow pace.

I try not to let our lack of time together get to me, but it's difficult to be optimistic when I've never even seen the apartment he shares with Aiden, and we have only gone on one official date. Mind you, he fell asleep at the table during that single date, and I called it an early night.

Ryland's job isn't entirely to blame for the shortcomings in our dating life. Mine isn't much better. President Spencer is shoveling more on my plate. I'm learning that by doing my job well, I'm rewarded with more work. He's bombarded me with paperwork, scheduling meetings, and working the endless hours of the president. I'm contemplating screwing up some things to see if he'll stop entrusting me with the responsibility of keeping his office running smoothly.

Today is one of those days where I'm drowning in work, and now, I'm running late for dinner. Thank God for casual Fridays and my choice to wear jeans, giving me the freedom to not worry about my skirt flying up as I hurry down the street. But I haven't learned my lesson about wearing heels to dress up my outfits. I ignore the amused glares of people watching me trying to keep my balance as Irun toward the park. I must look completely out of my mind.

When I reach the grass, I yank off my shoes, making my way to our tree at the back of the park. When we picked a meeting place, it was crucial to be as far as possible from the curious eyes of little kids. We didn't want to offend parents or be the subject of gawking if our hands wandered and our kisses lingered too long. We scored a spot under a big oak that’s surrounded by small shrubs.

Ryland sits on a blanket, his arms propped behind him and his ankles crossed. A grin spreads across his face when he catches sight of me. “Late again, Quinnten.”

“I'm so sorry. I tried to leave on time, but I'm swamped at work,” I say between erratic breaths, plopping down next to him.

“No worries, love.” Ryland leans over and gives me a quick kiss.

Removing the plastic lid from the container of chicken and rice, I note the missing chunks of meat from one portion. I don't blame him for picking at the food. I'm over twenty minutes late. With him working nights, this is his first meal of the day, and he has to be starving.

He hands me a fork, and we both take a few bites before I say, “So, President Spencer invited me to have dinner with his family next week. He wants me to meet his wife.”

Ryland cocks an eyebrow and swallows his food. “That’s pretty impressive.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I’m glad someone gets to have a nice dinner with you.”

My shoulders slump. “Ryland, I?—”

“I'm sorry. It's not your fault. I'm envious of anyone who gets to spend more than thirty minutes with you.”

“Things will get better.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking at his watch. “I have to go.” He quickly takes two more bites of rice and stands.

I'm so angry at myself for being late. We only have a half of an hour each night, and I blew it.

I get up and help him pack away our half-eaten meal and fold the blanket. He puts it all in his backpack and flings it over his shoulders. Ready to go, he leans down to give me a kiss goodbye.

“We'll have a little more time for dinner tomorrow.” He brushes his thumb over my bottom lip and dipping his head so he’s in my line of sight. “I’ll see you then?”

“Yeah.”

We'd be kidding ourselves to say things between us aren't stressful. We may have been fighting for our lives in the past, but at least we were always together. Now, it feels like we are trying to build a bridge over a massive divide. Neither of us have navigated a normal life in so long, and it feels like we are making so many wrong turns.

I wrap my arms around his waist and inhale his scent. His lips press to the top of my head before he lets me go and walks away.

Disappointment washes over me and my entire body sags under its weight. My steps drag as I leave the park. Here's to another Friday night alone at home.

Someone yells my name from down the street, interrupting my self-wallowing. I look behind me to find Ridge running my way. He's dressed in a pair of jeans and a form-fitting black button-up shirt with his dark-brown hair slicked back. It's the first time I have seen him in civilian clothes.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asks, jogging up beside me.

I point toward my street. “I was just headed home. I had a long day.”

“It sounds like you need a drink. A group of friends and I were going to the club. Come with us.”

I pull on the black short-sleeved blouse I'm wearing. “I'm not really dressed to go out.”

“You look fine.”

“I’ve never even been to a club before.”

He takes my hand in his and yanks me down the street. “Well, let’s rectify that.”

I huff while keeping up with his stride. “Just one drink, then I have to go.”

Ridge introduces me to his friends—two good-looking guys and a bubbly girl. We make our way down the road, heading for the club at the far end of the Sanctuary. The building is tucked away from all the homes, its structure built into a corner. Loud music thumps out into the road where club-goers gather to get a breath of fresh air. Ridge skips the line, nods a greeting to the bouncer at the door, and we slip inside. It’s wall to wall bodies—dancing, talking, and drinking. Multi-color lights flash with the beat of the song and a sea of people move on the dance floor.

We walk over to a roped-off booth shaped in a horseshoe, and Ridge motions for me to take a seat. He slides in next to me, and a server appears at once, taking everyone's drink order. Minutes later, I’m sipping a tall glass of fruity pink liquid and people-watching.

“You want to dance?” Ridge leans over and yells over the music.

“No, I'm good,” I say.

He smiles with a gleam shining in his eyes. “How have you never been to a club before?”

“You know, the world kind of went to shit and I missed out on some things. It’s hard to find a place to party when the Afflicted want to eat you.”

“Exactly!” he says, clapping his hands together. “That is why you need to chug your drink and get your ass on that dance floor. We’re here to have fun.”

He has a point. How many times have I thought about all the things I’ve missed out on? This may not be life as I once knew it, but it’s a second chance. I refuse to miss out again.

I down the sweet beverage, shuddering as I reach the alcohol settled at the bottom, and scoot out of the booth. He places his hand on my back and guides me to the throngs of bodies swaying to the music. When we reach his friends, he grabs my wrists and lifts my hands in the air. Like children, we laugh and jump around to the beat.

It’s not long until I find my own rhythm and get lost to the feel of bodies moving beside mine and the base thumping through my chest. One of Ridge's friends hands me another drink. I rotate between dancing with it sloshing over my hand and taking big gulps. My body is warm and tingly, and the room spins with every move I make. Dying of thirst, I chug the last of it and place it on the empty tray held by a passing waitress and take another.

Not one damn thing in my world is standing still, including me. I stumble into Ridge, and he holds me up by my arms, taking my cup from me.

“Are you all right?” He moves me back and studies me.

My tongue feels thick in my mouth, and my stomach flips inside out. “I don't feel so good,” I slur.

“Oh man, she's going to blow,” Ridge's buddy says and helps to prop up my other side.

Ridge takes my arm, drapes it over his shoulder, and pushes me through the crowd. “Yep, you're looking a little green.”

He swings open the door to the ladies' room and apologizes to all the girls inside as he leads me to a stall. He helps me onto my knees, making sure I'm in place before turning his back to me. I grip the sides of the toilet and gag. Everything in my stomach comes rushing out. The smell of the public bathroom does little to help my situation, and I hurl again.

Ridge turns around after I flush the toilet. “No more fruity moonshine for you tonight,” he says, hauling me off the ground.

He helps clean me up at the sink and lets me use him as a crutch as we walk through the club toward the exit. My head pounds with the music and my eyes squint against the flashing lights. A blast of cold air hits me when we step out onto the street, and the world around me spins again. I double over against the building and let out a couple of dry heaves.

With my eyes tearing up from all the convulsing, I look at Ridge. “I'm sorry I ruined your night. I've never had moonshine before.”

He puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me next to him. “We'll have to work on that, but something tells me you wouldn't have done well holding down any type of liquor.”

“I've never partied before.”

“I know.”

“You can stay here. I can get home on my own.” I wobble down the street without him and lose my footing, crashing into a group of people who yell in protest and push me away.

Ridge rushes to my side and guides me along. “It's two in the morning, and I'm ready to head home. You're just down the street from me. So, if it is okay with you, I'll walk with you.”

“The buddy system is always good,” I say, tears welling in my eyes. River is normally my buddy, and I got drunk without her.

He puts a supportive arm around me as we make our way through the main shopping district. It’s a wobbly walk. The heel of my shoe gets stuck in a crack, and I fall to the ground on my knees. He leans in and sweeps me into his arms.

“Up you go, walking doesn't seem to be your thing tonight.”

I kick my legs. “I can walk, Ridge. Put me down.”

“I got you,” he insists, carrying me like he’s done this a million times.

“No, put me down!” I weakly slap his shoulder.

“She said put her down, Spencer.”

My head whips toward the commanding voice that I know all too well.

Ryland's combat boots hit the ground hard as he marches toward us. His hands ball into fists at his sides, and his face is red. I've only seen him this mad at one other human—the creep in Devil’s Lake who laid a hand on me in a basement. Ryland was on the verge of killing that man, and I don't want that to be Ridge's fate.

“Ryland, I'm okay,” I assure him, wiggling out of Ridge's arms.

“You will address me as Major Spencer, soldier.”

The two men close the distance between them, and in all my drunken glory, I jump in the middle. “Stop!”

Ryland shoots Ridge a glare before taking my hand. “Come on, Quinn. I'll get you home.”

“I believe you're on duty, Shaw. That's considered abandonment of your post.”

Ryland turns on his heels and snaps, “I don't give a fuck what you call it. I'm taking her home.”

We can't afford for Ryland to lose it and do something irrational, forcing the six of us from this place and back to fighting Zs every day. I place my hands on his shoulder. “It's all right. I'll make it home safely.”

“Quinn,” he hisses, glaring at Ridge.

“Go back to work, Ryland. I'll be okay,” I say, placing a kiss on his cheek before walking away.

Ridge barks at Ryland from behind me, saying, “Consider yourself warned, Shaw. If you ever address me like that again, you'll be out of here so quick, you won't know what hit you.”

“Ridge!” I yell. “Let's go.”

He falls in line behind me and walks me the rest of the way home without a word. When we reach my front door, he breaks the silence. “Do you need help inside?”

“I’ve got it.”

“Are you mad at me?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping it will subside the pounding in my head. “You pulled rank on my boyfriend. Who, may I remind you, saw you carrying his drunk girlfriend down the street. He had every reason to be upset.”

Ridge runs his hand through his hair and looks away from me. “He can't talk to me like that. I'm his commanding officer whether or not I'm in uniform.”

This is going to be a losing battle. If I had a clear head that wasn't throbbing, I'd argue with him until I won. But I don’t, and I just need to lay down. “Look, Ryland means well. He gets a little overprotective sometimes, and he has every right to be after all we've been through.” I shake my head.

Everything escalated so quickly. We were having such a good time. I never thought I’d get the chance to do something so normal again. And our fun night is ending on a sour note.

“Thank you for walking me home. I had a good time tonight—until the puking thing and the run-in with my boyfriend,” I say, forcing a smile.

“He still needs to know his place.”

I laugh. This man doesn't know when to quit. “You guys chose Ryland for that job. I could've told you the man isn't good at falling in line. If you were looking for someone to bark orders at, you picked the wrong person.”

A spark of annoyance flashes across his face, but he drops the subject and instead opens my door for me. “Take an aspirin and keep a cup of water next to your bed.”

“Will do,” I say, shutting the door and putting an end to the debate.

I stumble into my room. Without bothering to remove any of my clothes, I fall face-first onto my bed.

When I come to, I find my soft comforter around me, and my heels are no longer on my feet. My mouth is dry, with my tongue stuck to the roof. The pounding in my head has been amplified by a thousand, and I have to pry my eyes open. Blinking through the haze, my world comes into focus, and I find Ryland sitting in the chair next to my bed. He has folded his camouflage jacket over his lap, leaving him in a basic brown T-shirt. His elbows rest on the arm of the chair, with his fingers steepled over his lips and eyes glued to me.

“Morning,” I croak.

“Morning,” he whispers.

“What are you doing here? You have a long day today, and you're not going to get any sleep.”

“I had to check on you.”

I press my palms to my eyes, rubbing them. “You mean you had to check if I was alone.”

“Yeah.”

Throwing the covers off me, I roll out of bed. When my feet hit the ground, I struggle to stay up, and Ryland leans forward in the chair to catch me if I fall. I regain my equilibrium and go inside my closet. We both remain quiet as I change out of the clothes I wore the day before.

My mind is a throbbing jumbled mess. I'm livid that he feels the need to check on me. He’s not here because he's worried about me being hungover. No. He thought there was a chance that Ridge was in my bed. I get that he might be jealous at seeing me in the arms of another man, but he needs to trust me when I say there's nothing but friendship between Ridge and me. Above everything, it's the lack of faith he has in me that hurts the most. He doesn't trust me to know my limits and to protect us above everything else.

I exit the closet in leggings and a sweatshirt and head out of the room. I need to use the toilet and get a drink before I can process any more of this with him.

Minutes later, I enter the kitchen. Ryland stands at the island staring into a mug of coffee. I slide past him and fill a glass of water. When there is nothing left to do, I quietly ask, “Do you really think I would cheat on you?”

He runs his hand over his face and takes a breath. “There are things you haven't had the opportunity to experience. This is it. You have the chance to do a lot of what you missed out on—going out and getting shit faced, dancing with different guys, and just being young and carefree. I can't blame you for being curious about those things.”

“You're three years older than me, Ryland. Are these things you feel like you're missing out on? Because that’s not how I feel.”

He sighs and says, “No, I don't. I went to university and drank and partied and dated. I think you should have the same opportunities with no strings attached.”

I don't understand how any of that matters. Our lives will never be what they once were, and we can't live by a standard that no longer exists. The expectations of what life should be for a young adult were shot to hell the moment we started living to survive. Ryland can't expect us to flip the switch and for me to be a typical twenty-year-old, can he?

“What are you saying?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest like it’s trying to run away from this conversation, trying to save itself from the chance of being hurt.

“I don't want to be the one who holds you back from anything. I think you need to take some time to consider all the doors standing wide open for you.”

I set down my glass and brace myself against the counter as my knees buckle. A tightness forms in my chest, making it hard to breathe. I push past the dull aching that comes with every beat of my heart and say, “I already picked my door, and my path runs beside yours.”

He clears his throat and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I won't be at the park for dinner this week.”

“Don't do this,” I say, my voice cracking as tears blur my vision. “Please don’t do this to us.”

Ryland looks past me as he walks over and pulls my head to his chest. I bunch his shirt in my hands, holding on as tight as I can. Everything good in me is made better by having him in my life, to let him go is ripping out the best parts of me.

“Please, don't leave. I'm sorry,” I beg with no shame. I’d fall to my knees for this man, reach inside my chest and rip out my beating heart for him. It’s his anyway. I’d gladly hand it to him if it would make him stay.

He kisses the top of my head, his voice thick with emotion as he says, “I have to do this. You need to live your life for you for a while. I promise I'll be waiting for you, and if anyone leaves, it will not be me.”

“But you’re going to walk out that door.”

“I am. It’s for the best, Quinn.”

He lets me go and leaves.

My entire body trembles as I stare at the door, his words tearing through my mind. He believes it will be me who gives up on us. That I wouldn’t fight for us until the grave. It kills me to think he has such little faith in my love for him. Tears run down my face, and with a ragged breath, I vow, “I’ll never leave you.”