Chapter 3
“Hey, Bubba. You hungry?”
“Nope.” Go away, Ryder. I’m tired. “Thanks, though.”
“The physical therapist called. He wants to make an appointment.”
“I’ll call.” Go away, Ryder. You’re pissing me off.
“Do you want your sheets—”
“Leave me be, man! I’m napping!”
There was a silence, then the sound of Ryder walking away down the long hallway of the New York lake house that his twin shared with Charles.
It was a huge place, big enough that he could go all day without hearing another voice if he wanted to. Well, he could if his brother would leave him be.
Ryder was damn near as bad as Mama. He meant well, Roper knew, but he just needed a break.
A shadow fell over his bed, and he felt Charles’s presence before the man opened his mouth. “It’s time to get out of bed, Roper.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “I’m not feeling great, man. I’m sorry. I’ll be up here in a bit.”
“Roper.” That deep voice was somehow patient and not at the same time. “You’re not doing yourself any favors. Get up.”
Oh, don’t you go all fake Dom on me. He didn’t say it, because he might be a bitch, but that would hurt, and he wasn’t an asshole. “Charles, I swear, I’m just exhausted. Jet-lagged.”
Could you be jet-lagged for a month?
His door closed with a soft click, but it wasn’t Charles leaving. “Listen. Ryder is worried sick, and you need to get out of bed. You need to let him cook for you too. Let him help. It will be good for you both.”
He sat up, his head pounding. “If I eat, can I please come back to bed?”
He wasn’t going to be able to eat. He was queasy as fuck.
To his surprise, Charles sat with him. “So what’s going on with you? Just your foot? Did you hit your head? Why do you look so green?”
“I haven’t eaten in a few days, no caffeine. I’m queasy. I just…sleeping is easy.” And he was tired. Like soul-tired. He just had another two weeks before the leg should be healed.
The ankle was a different story.
“Healing is easier with food. How about a cup of coffee and some scrambled eggs? That’s easy on the stomach. Ask Ryder; he needs it.” Charles stood and set his crutches where he could reach them. “And a shower wouldn’t go amiss.”
“If I do that, I’ll notice how bad the sheets stink.”
Charles arched an eyebrow. “Trust me. I noticed. Ryder will remake the bed too. Please let him be useful. He’s worried.” Charles stood again, and Roper recognized the kindness in the man’s eyes. He’d seen Charles look at Ryder that way. “Thank you.”
“You rock, man. Thanks for letting me stay. I appreciate it.”
And clean sheets wouldn’t suck.
Charles opened his door. “It’s about time,” Charles said loud enough for Ryder to hear, then Roper got a wink and the man was gone.
He hauled himself up and headed toward the bathroom.
He sort of almost felt sorry for Ryder.
Almost.
Sort of.
The bathroom was big and the rain shower was so nice that once he got in, he wasn’t sure he wanted to get out. But he did, and he dried off in a soft, warm towel. This was every day around here? It was better than a nice hotel.
Ryder had opened windows, changed his sheets and had taken all the water bottles and his laundry.
Impressive.
He wasn’t sure how Ryder wasn’t losing his mind, but so far, so good.
He pulled on his clothes—jeans, T-shirt, hoodie because it was a little chilly up here when the sun went down—then clumped downstairs to see what the deal was.
He could hear bustling—water and dishes and a kettle. For a second, he thought he could be at Mama’s.
“Hands off; the cookies aren’t cool enough yet, Mr. Charlie.”
“I like them warm.”
“They’re too hot. No touching.”
He heard Charles sigh loudly, and Ryder laughed.
“Poor abused man. Five minutes, and I’ll bring them to you.”
“Five whole minutes?”
Ryder chuckled. “Five.”
“Well, make me a cup of tea to go with it then. I’ll be in my study.” Charles left the kitchen and passed him in the hall. “Oh, you smell much better.”
“Thanks ever so.” He dared to stick his tongue out at Charles, playing.
“He’s all yours. Be hungry.” Charles winked at him and continued down the hall.
He shook his head, but he knew how Ryder was, and eggs were easy enough. He might even be able to keep them down. He stopped in the kitchen doorway. “Do I smell cookies?”
“Yep. Ginger cookies. Easy on your belly, you know?” Ryder got a spatula and put two on a plate. “Eggs?”
“Yeah. That would rock. Thanks. Maybe some coffee?” He took a seat on a tall stool at the kitchen island. Now that he was smelling food his belly felt empty.
“Sure. I got the good stuff. Charles is a tea drinker, but sometimes coffee is literally the only answer.”
“Right? Strong and bracing and fully caffeinated.” Ryder knew of what he spoke. He reached for one of the cookies. “The shower in my bathroom is like a spa or something.”
“Sweet, isn’t it? We had it redone earlier this year. It makes for a nice guest room experience.”
Listen to Ryder. That was so…weird. So fancy. So wrong. “Who are you and what have you done with my idiot twin brother?”
Ryder stuck his tongue out at him. “Shut up. I’m living my life. I will beat you.”
“It’s just weird, bubba. Look at you. It’s good you’re happy but… I don’t think this is for me.” He was going to get back on the road as soon as he was cleared.
“Well, I didn’t ask you to move in forever. I said you could come and recuperate.”
“You know what I mean. I got to get back on the road.”
Ryder just started cooking eggs, not saying a word.
He didn’t need to.
But just because Ryder got lucky didn’t mean he would. In fact, that wasn’t usually the way it worked with them at all. Ryder was exactly as straightforward as he was complicated. That was his row to hoe.
“You want toast or biscuits?”
“You got leftover biscuits?”
“Yeah, from this morning.”
“How can you be happy like this, bubba? You’re cooking, cleaning—you can’t enjoy this.” It didn’t make sense.
Ryder took a breath, then turned around and stared at him. “That’s a fine question coming from someone who is so unhappy he didn’t want to get out of bed.”
“Oh, shut up. That’s not the same. You’re a goddamn housewife.”
“So what if I am!” Ryder shocked him with how loud he was. “What the fuck does it matter if I cook and clean and organize Charles’s life so he’s happy? I’m happy. What the fuck does it matter to you?”
“You are a cowboy!”
“You want me to take you outside and clean your fucking clock and prove I can cowboy up?”
“I have lived in this house for many years and this is the first time I have ever heard raised voices in it.” Charles barged into the kitchen with long strides and went straight to Ryder. “And I don’t want to hear them again.”
“I’m sorry, love.” Ryder shot Roper a hard look. “You won’t, right?”
Roper nodded. Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Sorry, man. The eggs need turning.”
Charles turned to him and his look wasn’t angry, but very serious.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping, but you were shouting, so I’ll just say this.
When you love someone, you want them to be happy.
Ryder is happy. You are here because Ryder wanted to help.
So you can appreciate that about him, or I can buy you a ticket back to New Mexico. ”
“I do want him to be happy, man. I swear! I just worry. This is just…how do you go from bull riding to making cookies? Is it the head injury? Just say so.”
“I don’t need the constant adrenaline, bubba. I love him. I love taking care of him. I love being with him. This is me. I’m not…broken.”
Did that mean he was?
“Roper, everyone’s needs are different.” The emphasis on “needs” made it clear what Charles was talking about.
It wasn’t cookies or bull riding. “It’s possible that if Ryder had known he could live this life he might never have gone into bull riding to begin with.
Just as it’s possible for you to live the life you really want.
Maybe that’s riding…” Charles shrugged instead of finishing that thought for him.
“Yeah.” No. He hadn’t found anyone who was strong enough to handle him. He didn’t need meanness, but a nice firm hand? Maybe. “I hear you. I’m just hangry.”
“It seems that Ryder is taking good care of you then.” Charles kissed Ryder’s temple. “I need to make a phone call, darling. Tea would still be nice when you’re finished feeding your brother. Not a rush. I’m taking a cookie now though.” Charles pulled one off the cooling rack.
“Yes, Sir. Love you. Tea in a bit, I promise.”
Roper waited until Charles left before he whispered, “You are hooked through the balls.”
“You know it. Here are your eggs, shithead.” Ryder winked at him.
“Thank you, asshole.” The eggs were good though, and after a few bites his stomach relaxed, and he actually did start to feel better than he had in a while. He might survive watching his brother and Charles fawn over each other.
For a little while, anyway.