14. Ryker
14
Ryker
I ’ve never been more grateful for my ability to mask my rage than I am in this moment. I’m practically shaking, stuck somewhere between wanting to find this dickwad Brad, showing him what happens to people that hurt those I care about and putting this frustrating woman over my lap and spanking the recklessness out of her. I’ve always been protective by nature, but this situation has me feeling particularly feral. I can’t do either of those things, but I did text Hayes last night and had him revoke Brad’s membership, effective immediately. Thankfully, it settles me–a little. I’ll take what I can get right now.
As for Arabella, I find myself wondering what’s happened to her in the last six years, because the woman sitting in front of me is not who I imagined she would grow up to be. The comment about her weight did not get past me, so clearly Christine’s influence is still strong. She was always bringing it up in negative ways and I could see how it affected her, even then.
“What happened to you?” My curiosity piqued, I finally ask. I need to know.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I want to know what you’ve been up to in the last six years.” I sigh and lean against the sink, tossing the dish towel over my shoulder and crossing my arms. “The girl I ran into last week is not the girl I remember.”
Dropping her fork, she huffs out a breath and meets my eyes. “You’re right. I’m not the same, Ryker.” Her shoulders tense at the admission and I have a feeling her walls are about to go up.
“I was sure things would get better for you after graduation. What changed?”
“Things didn’t exactly go as planned,” she admits as her voice gets louder. “Why does it matter anyway? Maybe I’m just tired of being the good, responsible girl, who does everything that’s asked of her.”
My resolve cracks slightly, as I process what she’s telling me. They sound simple–normal even–but something tells me there's more that she’s not saying. I’d push her harder, but my need for information seems to be transitioning into a need to hug her. But I don’t. Because she’s not mine and it’s none of my business.
“If you ever want to talk about it–”
“Thanks for breakfast,” she interrupts, breaking eye contact and hopping off the barstool, creating more distance between us. “But I think I’ll go get my stuff and be on my way.”
She’s not going anywhere.
“No.”
“No? What do you mean–no?”
“I know you’ve been told no before. Surely, I don’t have to educate you on the meaning. You’re not leaving. Like I said, you’ll stay here–for now.” I stand tall and make my way around the island once again. “It’s not safe for you to go back to your apartment until Brad is found. I’ll send someone to take a look before you go back.”
Do I think he’s running scared and it’s unlikely he’ll actually come after her? Yes .
Am I overreacting and grasping at fucking straws, so I have a reason to keep her here for a little longer? Also yes.
“I’m a grown ass woman, Ryker. You don’t own me, which means I can do whatever the fuck I want. You can’t keep me here,” she argues as she slowly makes her way back to the guest room.
“You’re right. I don’t own you. If I did, things would be very different, I can assure you,” I attest. The last thing I should be thinking about is owning her; but now, it’s all I can think about. She definitely needs some discipline in her life.
Nope.
I’m twenty-one years older than her and she should be with someone her own age. Although, after the incident at Gravity, I am curious if she was there because of an actual interest in BDSM or if she was just there to have fun. My blood pressure rises all over again at the reminder of that clusterfuck of an evening. I’m still pissed about it–clearly. At some point, I’ll bring it up, but not today. If nothing else, I should make sure she has guidelines of what not to do, and how to kink responsibly.
“I would feel better if you stayed here. Safety concerns aside, the drugs aren't completely out of your system yet and you shouldn’t be alone. I have a state of the art security system and I’ll get you a key and you can come and go as you please, but I’d prefer if you go out only when necessary until we find the shithead.”
“The only place I’ll really need to go is work,” she replies softly, staring at the floor. “I wait tables at Martin’s, so it’ll be evenings mostly.”
Now I’m really curious, because I assumed she’d graduated college by now. Between her scholarship and college prep classes, she was certainly on that path. I store my many questions away to bring up another time, when she’s more–open.
“However you need to come and go, you can.”
“I don’t have any clothes here.” Her words are punctuated with a sharp edge.
I knew this would come up, so I already handled it.
“I have clothes being delivered for you. They should be here soon. In the meantime, I put a pair of my sweats in your room that you can wear.”
She lets out a soft gasp. “Seriously? Look at me. Your clothes are not going to fit me. And how could you even begin to order clothes without knowing what size I need?”
“Everything will fit. Trust me.”
What I don’t say is, I sat at her bedside all night watching her sleep. Mostly, I was worried and felt the need to make sure she was okay. Then there was the part of me that just couldn’t tear my eyes from her body. Jesus, I’m a creepy mother fucker.
A minute passes silently and she finally nods in agreement. “Fine, I’ll stay. But as soon as we get the all clear, I'm going home. I need to take a shower and make some phone calls.”
“Your phone is in your purse, which is on the nightstand.”
Then I watch her intently until she disappears through the doorway of the guest room.
What have I gotten myself into?