Chapter 41
Riley
“BE MY CONSTANT.”
The cool evening air chills my skin even through the rashguard that Creed had insisted I wear. I know how to put on my own helmet, but I remain silent and still while I let Creed do the honors.
He was persistent, and if I’m being completely honest, I’m feeling fucking needy. I can’t explain it, but having him take care of me right now is giving me the same level of calm that my noise-cancelling headphones do.
Every move I make still feels stiff and robotic, like I’m just numb and my body is just floating through the motions.
I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.
Why do I feel like such a failure?
For so long, Collins had been acting so oddly normal after everything we went through, and it was a little terrifying and awfully concerning, to say the least. I knew that what had happened to her tonight was always a possibility, but anticipating it and watching it play out before your eyes are two completely different and horrifying things.
Something about seeing her bleeding and helpless on the floor sent my body into shutdown mode.
My brain tried to protect itself from the memories and nightmares that I suffer from on a daily basis, but they quickly became reality right before my eyes.
Just as Collins was lost in her own mind, I could feel the restraints digging into the flesh of my wrists.
Holding me down. Keeping me from helping Collins the way she truly needed.
I did my best to shove the choking fear down and push the onslaught of emotions away so that I could help. It felt like my soul was digging and clawing just beneath the surface of my skin, trying like hell to rid itself from my body with every breath I took.
I really tried to keep it all inside because Collins needed us.
But Creed saw me. Not just with his eyes, but with his heart.
As if his own soul had reached out and tenderly brushed against mine and saw the pain I was so desperately burying.
He came to me. He saw me. He stepped away from Collins, and I selfishly let him because in that moment, I needed him, too.
I never would’ve admitted it or asked for it, but he came to me anyway.
The moment he wrapped his arms around me in that closet, I hated myself for pulling him away. For clinging to him when the beautiful, broken girl whom our very souls revolved around needed him more.
By the time we exited the closet, Blair had taken Collins to his room for popcorn and movies while he tended to her hand and the various cuts and scrapes on her legs. We were hesitant to leave, but just as we stepped into the garage and uncovered Creed’s bike, a text came from Asher.
It simply read:
ASHER: Take your time. She’s all good.
There was a picture attached of her curled up on her side, watching a movie with her head in Blair’s lap while eating gummy worms. That reassurance propelled Creed to secure our helmets.
“Ri?” Creed’s voice inside the speakers of my helmet makes me jump, and I realize I’ve just been standing here blankly, staring at him for God knows how long. “You good?”
His question is punctuated when he lifts the visor of my helmet, and his ice blue eyes meet mine. I can’t see his nose or mouth, but the furrow of his brow and the intensity of his gaze are telling.
He’s already climbed onto his bike, and his thighs straddle the seat while I’m still standing here.
I force a stiff nod and gesture behind him with a raised brow, silently asking if I’m good to climb on behind him.
My mouth can’t seem to form words tonight, because I just don’t know what to say after my panic attack and breakdown.
I feel awful.
Ashamed.
Selfish.
Numb.
Why do I feel numb?
Creed simply braces the bike and holds it steady as I swing my leg over. I could hold my weight back and away from him, but I still need him close, so I let the curve of the seat force our bodies closer together.
My arms band tightly around his abdomen, and his hum of appreciation vibrates through me, setting little nerve endings alight with energy.
It’s been months since I’ve ridden with Creed, but this time feels different.
This time, I’m more aware of him. The strength of his body to hold the bike upright, the flex of his muscles as he takes off down the driveway.
Every shift. Every flex. Every breath he takes is observed and catalogued within my mind.
I cling to him as he takes off into the night.
Our home is situated deep within the rolling hills of Northern California; the end of his driveway leads to a fork in the road.
One takes you right into the city, while the other winds and curves all over the peaks and valleys of the hills until it eventually spits us out along the coastal highway.
The ride is quiet for the first several minutes.
I keep my face side-turned to rest just between his shoulder blades while my hands grip his abdomen.
I bend and lean with him around every corner, letting myself melt into his body.
I become one with him as we navigate the backroads on this cool, early autumn night.
The crackling in the speaker of my helmet grabs my attention just before Creed’s deep, crisp voice filters through.
“You wanna talk?” he asks before downshifting his bike, slowing the ride as the road levels out. The low hum of the motor settles into my bones. “Or do you just want to ride?”
The thought of telling anyone my problems sets my nerves on fire in a not-so-great way.
It’s fucking awful, actually. I haven’t spoken about what happened to me outside of when I told Creed in the hospital.
Sure, I talked to a therapist, too, but even then it was only a drop in the endless sea of trauma I’ve been wading through.
While I feel like things have been good with me, I still feel adrift sometimes.
The darkness and nightmares are always there, lurking just out of sight until one moment of weakness allows them to slip through the cracks and break down my confidence.
On nights like tonight, those demons send me careening right back into the deep.
It was merely minutes, but my drowning felt eternal in the small space of time. I was suffocating. I had tried desperately to bury my trauma so deep that only I would bear the burden of seeing and feeling it.
Or so I thought.
I’ve really have to stop assuming Creed is blind to my demons, because I swear he reads my mind faster than I can hide my thoughts. He sees me.
I take a deep breath and hold Creed a little tighter.
“I was so helpless in that… fucking room,” I grit through a clenched jaw, rolling my helmet back and forth against his back as images flash through my mind.
“So many times I thought I’d died in there, and it got to the point of being unable to differentiate dreams from reality.
Every moment of my existence was a waking nightmare.
” My skin pebbles with goosebumps, and I clench one hand around the other wrist, fighting off the phantom pain of the restraints.
Creed remains silent, but I know he’s listening and giving me an outlet to speak freely.
Stroking my thumbs against his abdomen where I’m gripping him tight, I swallow thickly and press on.
“My hands went completely numb around day eight, I think. I tried—” I choke, holding back the tears.
“Every day I tried so hard to free myself to get to her, Creed. I fucking swear. I fought every day…but it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t strong enough.”
“Ri…”
“My mother eventually found her way into my mind again,” I confess, and Creed tenses.
It’s no secret he fucking hates my mother, especially after my run-in with her weeks ago, and I don’t blame him.
“With every failure came her reminders of just how toxic I am. How weak. And I believed her. Because if I had been stronger, if I hadn’t frozen up and fought the man who had Collins thrown over his shoulder…
maybe I could’ve saved us. Saved her from all the pain and hurt she was forced to endure.
“Seeing Collins like that tonight, I felt so goddamned useless because in my mind, I was thrown right back in that fucking room, restrained. Tied down. None of it made sense.” A shuddering breath forces its way from my lungs right when Creed pulls off the road, and I realize we’ve stopped at a cliffside that overlooks a nearby city.
He powers the bike down and just sits there for a moment before I pat his side and swing my leg over to climb off.
The moment my helmet is pulled free, I gulp down air like I’ve been deprived of it.
Creed does the same, but he remains by his bike, his body leaning against the side as he patiently waits for my second breakdown of the night.
“None of it made sense,” I repeat once more, gripping the hair at the back of my neck.
I look away, not wanting him to see the shame in my gaze.
“Because I was here, with you and her.” I jab a finger against my temple.
“I knew we were in our home and I knew she was in our bathroom, but mentally, I was back there.”
A rogue tear tracks down my cheek and gets lost at the corner of my lip as I close my eyes.
“It was the cuts. The blood. Creed, he hurt her, and I was forced to watch her bleed. Every cut took a piece of me. Every slice against her skin was another failure. And tonight…that helplessness took root before I could stop it, and I tried… I tried to bury it because you needed me. She needed me to help her.”
I spin to face a quiet Creed and throw my arms out wide, facing my fate. My defeat. “But I couldn’t. And apparently that’s all I’ll ever be.” More tears. “A coward who freezes when it counts.”
He must have reached his limit because Creed pushes off his bike and strides towards me, his steps steady and determined. He reaches me before I can blink and grabs me by my shirt, hauling me so close that our noses brush. He looks pissed, but there’s a pain that lies in tandem with it, too.
“Don’t you fucking dare, Riley,” he growls, and his words send a shiver up my spine.
“You don’t get to berate and verbally abuse yourself for something that was out of your control.
What happened to you two was fucking traumatizing for all of us.
We all fought our battles, and guess what?
The fight is not over.” He sucks in a deep breath and releases me before shouting with his arms splayed wide.
“I’m still fucking fighting, Riley! It’s a goddamned uphill battle that won’t be won for a long time, baby.
But you know what? I’m still here! I don’t get to fucking quit, and neither do you. ”
He steps into me again, then wraps both hands around the back of my neck, gripping the short hairs at the base of my skull.
He pulls until his forehead presses against mine.
Sucking in a deep breath, he calms himself and continues.
“Shit won’t always look perfect for us. One or more of us are going to have moments more severe than others, and we’ll handle them the best we can.
Collins had a violent dissociative episode, yes.
Did she need us? Yes. But she wasn’t the only one affected by Guy. Was she?”
Reluctantly, I shake my head, and Creed pulls away just enough to look me in the eye as his hands travel from my chest to my waist, and he holds me there. My hands instinctively mirror his, gripping the sides of his torso.
“I know we have a long road ahead of us. We’ll have fucking badass amazing days, and we’ll have days that the devil himself could classify as a shit day. Don’t let those days win. If it starts to feel heavy? Come to me. Okay?”
I nod, my throat too tight to form words.
“Because as much as I need her, I need you, too, Sweet Boy.”
I don’t get a chance to respond before he presses his lips to mine, hard and fast. My hands fly to the collar of his shirt, and I grip the fabric like it’s my lifeline.
Because he is my lifeline. From the moment he found me in that parking lot, from what seems like a lifetime ago, he’s taken care of me.
He’s shown me love. Family. Freedom. He built me up and showed me my worth, despite my failure to believe I’m as important as he believes me to be.
My lips part, seeking more. Needing more.
“I need you, Creed,” I breathe against his lips before kissing him again, pulling him impossibly closer against me. “Be my constant.”
I’m not sure if it’s a plea or a demand, but I’ve never meant anything more.
Creed has shown me time and time again that I can lean on him.
That I can trust him with my mind, my body, and my heart.
I love Collins more than I could’ve ever imagined, but she doesn’t need the burden of my demons.
Not right now, at least. Creed gives me the safety I need to talk and feel safe when expressing my feelings.
He lends me the confidence to feel like maybe I can stay.
That with him, I will be enough. For him. For Collins.
He breaks the kiss, only to pepper more all over my face before leaving a trail down the column of my neck and back up to the shell of my ear before he whispers, “Then, now, and always, Ri.”