Chapter 24—Ruby
When I wake up, I expect him to be there.
I know I didn’t imagine him staying the night.
I didn’t lose my memory with everything going on and forget all that happened.
I remember—everything. The feel of him holding me.
The silent freedom of not having to decide and just being able to focus on what I wanted.
Okay, not what I wanted, but what I needed.
Skipping class to have a meltdown wasn’t the wisest. I know I can get notes from my classmates, but I hate asking anyone for anything.
Which is probably why I let Kooper stay last night. He didn’t ask, just did. No permission was requested. He also didn’t take anything. Nothing was done for his benefit that I saw. It was all for me.
I know it’s because of what happened with Dad. He pities me. That’s it. That’s all there is to it. Yet when he held me and then made sure I ate and finally slept beside me but never touched me? There was nothing about pity in his arms or his actions.
I shake my head out. I need coffee. Any type of caffeine, really. I’ll even settle for chocolate. Not that that’s settling, but it would be nice.
I get up and head to the kitchen. Finding a skillet on the stove isn’t unusual. But seeing the lid on it? Well, I honestly thought we didn’t have tops to these things. I lift it and see an omelet. A perfect omelet.
“Nat,” I call out. I look back and call her name again as I put the cover back on the skillet and then go to her room.
I knock on the door, and it pushes open to reveal an empty room. Taking a quick look in our bathroom, I see it’s open. I spin, though I have no idea why, since it’s not like she’s hiding; our place is too small for that without it being obvious where she was.
Nat is nowhere to be found. I’m alone.
And there’s food. Perfect and waiting.
Screw it.
I pull a plate out of the cabinet and slide the omelet onto it. I open the fridge, grab the ketchup, and then stop. Right in front on the top row is an iced coffee. And from the label on it, it’s my exact order.
Either I’ve got a stalker, or I’ve started to sleepwalk and get things together before waking. Not one to ignore gifts, I pick it up hesitantly. Not sure why. It’s just an iced coffee. Nothing scary or hidden about that.
I bring the coffee, ketchup, and omelet to the table and pull my laptop out of my bag.
As it powers up, I squeeze out a nice layer of ketchup goodness onto my eggs.
I take my first bite and open my emails, only stopping at the second bite when I see two messages, both from my professors.
One from the class I missed completely and the other from the one I walked out of.
The first just has the notes from the class with a note saying they hope I’m feeling better.
Odd, but I guess it makes sense to think I was out sick.
Especially since I make a point to never miss a class, even showing up ten minutes early every day and sitting in the first row.
I guess being that kind of student has its perks.
But the second email? Surprising. The guy made it clear from day one that he wasn’t going to go easy on anyone or help.
Either do the assignments or get out—his exact words.
So, seeing an email from him, with his personal notes of the lecture I walked out of, is beyond anything.
There’s no note included, just the attachment.
“Must be my lucky day.” And after the last year of having more bad luck than good, I think I’m entitled to this. I’m also completely fine with not overthinking how all this happened and just accepting it.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll worry about things and what they mean. But today? I’m just going to eat food, drink caffeine, and review what I missed. Today is a nonthinking day. Just one. Tomorrow I can feel the world falling apart.
But today is for me. Only me.
Two weeks. I’ve had to deal with this for two weeks. And I’m done. I’m completely done. Done with the bullshit. Done with the waiting. Done with the unknown. Just all of it.
At least when Dad was in a coma, there was hope. And while everyone keeps telling me there’s still hope, I call BS on it.
Kitten lost her memory when she fell down a cliff and into the club, almost literally.
Got the coffee mug and the markings to prove it.
She also got herself an old man from it.
But there was a difference with her and her memory.
Sure, it was everything for her and not selective like Dad’s, but she wanted to get her memory back.
Nothing that Dad is doing shows he wants that. Especially when I walk in on him flirting with a fucking nurse. Again.
It makes me sick. Visibly sick and angry. It’s always the same nurse. The one I used to think understood the silent cues. But she seems to have ignored all my glares up to this point.
And after finding out I got a fucking C on my latest paper today, I’m no longer in the mood to be nice. General told me to just let things play out. To come as much as I wanted. Share memories, bring pictures. Do what I want, just don’t push it. Too much could do more harm than good.
It’s her giggle that sets me off. Before I fully walk through the door, I hear it. And the sneer on my face doesn’t hide any of my feelings.
“Pretty sure you’re not being paid to drool over the patients,” I say by way of greeting. I drop my bag at the door and cross my arms.
Dad looks at me from his spot on the bed, frowning, while the nurse gives me a wide-eyed innocent look as she stands beside him at the machines.
“I… I wasn’t drooling.”
“Don’t lie, honey. Men of the club don’t like it, and it won’t get you special dicking for the effort.”
“Ruby!” Dad berates me, but it’s not like it used to be. His bark to me is what he uses on strangers. On prospects of the club. On anyone but me.
I glare harder but don’t apologize.
“You did your job, now get. I’ll make sure General knows just how much special treatment you’re giving to your patients. Pretty sure he’ll side with me and see that you’re just a waste of the hospital’s time and money.”
“Girl, you better get your mouth right,” Dad seethes, and the nurse shrinks in on herself. He isn’t looking at me, though, but at her.
“Why? Six months ago, you wouldn’t have even looked at this…
this… hussy. You wouldn’t have seen her at all.
But now? You forget me. Fine. Whatever. I have no dad.
I’ll live. But Mom? You forget her? The woman you joined the club for?
The one you put up with all the bullshit for, everything her uncle threw at you to get you to sway off her.
You didn’t even see her in that time. You spent one weekend together.
One. And that was it for you. You never looked at another woman.
Ever. Not when you were apart. Not when you got the presidency and every damn bimbo in the state threw themselves at you, naked even.
Not even when she said to get laid because she was as big as a house because she was pregnant with me. ”
I’m screaming and watching him finally, finally look at me. He’s glaring, but at least he’s listening.
At some point, Atom came into the room, probably to see what all the noise was about. He was on guard duty when I came in. I’m guessing Mad Max had something else to do. Good for him for having a life outside of here. Something I can’t seem to do yet. But I’m getting close. So close.
“And when she got sick?” I swallow the emotion in my voice, but the tears don’t listen to my silent plea to stay put and start leaking down my face.
“When she lost her hair and went through chemo? When she died? Not once. Not once did you see another woman.” I sniff and use the back of my hand to wipe my nose. Super classy, but I don’t care.
“You used to say that you had already found the perfect woman. That she was the love of your life and there was no one who could compare, so there’s no use looking. That the memories you shared are enough to keep you warm at night.”
He looks away, breaking eye contact. Breaking me.
“Guess that was all a lie. A little amnesia and it’s all gone.
Or maybe it’s not amnesia. Maybe you’re just hard up.
Need to get your dick wet, Dad? Is that it?
Well, have at it.” I gesture to the nurse, who has tears in her eyes, but she’s still here.
When any normal person would go screaming for the door, she stayed.
And I hate her. “You won’t even have to pay her like the others do. ”
“Ruby.” Atom’s harsh tone makes me flinch more than any look Dad could give me right now. Because he knows. He knows I’m not like this. That I don’t lash out at strangers unless they deserve it.
Well, from my point of view, she does. This and a keyed car. Maybe even a black eye.
“Fuck this.” I grab my bag off the ground. “If you don’t want to remember, that’s your issue. I’m done trying to keep a memory of someone who doesn’t even want to try. He’s all yours.” I nod at the nurse. “I’m done with him.”
Walking out of the room doesn’t hurt. It’s the fact that only Atom called me back. Not Dad. Not a single word from him.
I’m not paying attention, which seems more normal for me than not lately.
I used to be so good at knowing everything that was going on in my surroundings.
But now I just don’t seem to care. Which my subconscious yells at me all the time for.
I need to be smart. I really do. But it’s hard to care with everything going on.
A hand stops me, and I pull away before I see who it is. At least I still care enough to react once touched. Too bad I don’t follow it up with a punch.
Abigail.
Of course. If this day could get any worse, I’m sure God will find a way to do it. Starting with her being at the hospital.
“What?”
She flinches back at my hard tone but doesn’t seem deterred enough to leave me the fuck alone.
“I called out to you a few times.”
“Ever think that I just don’t want to talk to you?” Not that I heard her, but she doesn’t need to know that. If I did, I’m sure she would have met the same result.
“You look like you’ve been crying.” She ignores my brush-off, and I just roll my eyes.
“Captain Obvious, you aren’t.” I turn to walk away, pushing my bag higher on my shoulder as I go.
“Tell the Crazy Eights to get their money back. You’re not worth the price.
” I smirk. Twice now I’ve made references to women not being worth the money.
Wonder if I can make it three for three before the day’s over.
“How’s your dad?”
I stop.
Turn.
And take two steps back toward her. Close enough to be in her face.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Six months ago, she would have flinched and backed away. Would have backpedaled so fast and apologized in seconds. Even before I questioned her. But now? She stands tall. She doesn’t back down. She even maintains eye contact.
“Your dad. Is he doing better?”
“He’s dead,” I spit out. To which she tilts her head, keeping her expression neutral.
“Okay. And the John Doe?”
Fuck. She knows. I don’t know how, but she does. The club, Casper, Kooper—they all made it clear that this was still to be kept quiet. Or is that no longer a thing now that he doesn’t remember me? Maybe I’m the only one who’s still in the dark.
It’s not like I’ve talked to anyone. Not even Kooper. Since the night he stayed over, it’s been radio silence. Not that I’m looking at my phone or checking it every time I get out of the shower to see if I missed a call or a text.
I don’t reach out to him because I don’t need to. I don’t need him. He did what I needed that night. He held me and let me fall apart. Just like he did when he told me Dad was dead.
Whatever. I’m dealing with my feelings and thoughts about him lying to me.
Things are murky at best. One moment, I’m all against him saying it was a lie, and the next, I see it as a truth that Dad did die, and he just left out the part that he was brought back to the land of the living but in a coma after that.
Which is still a lie. A lie of omission.
Or is it?
See? I’m all confused. And it’s all because of Dad. And Abigail. Seriously, if I can just have one issue at a time to think through, I could figure everything out. I wouldn’t react so rashly and lash out.
Okay, maybe I would. But we’ll never know. Just like we’ll never know what life would be like if you didn’t eat the ice cream out of the pint container it came in. Maybe the world would survive if you put it in a bowl. Maybe not. Best not to chance it and change things up or think differently.
“Who?” I don’t need to elaborate, and her answer is the only thing that has her facial expression changing. From neutral to caring. Something that used to happen when she talked about me. I saw it from a distance. But now it’s for someone else.
“Billy.”
I should have known. Her boss is also the new president’s old lady. The boys might say they keep shit away from the women, but I’ve seen more than one brother break that rule when it comes to keeping their old ladies in the know. Usually it’s just for a safety thing. Telling them to keep them safe.
But now? This? How the fuck is Billy even a part of this? Or Abigail? Or any of the Crazy Eights, for that matter.
I turn and walk away, making it to my car without anyone else approaching me. I take a moment and then pick up my phone and dial one number. When Nat answers, I put it on speaker and peel out of the parking lot.
“Get dressed. We’re going out.”
“Where’re we going?” I can hear her already wrestling through her clothes to find something. And that makes me smile. That was the exact answer I needed from her. No questions, just acceptance.
“Anywhere that I can get plastered and make bad decisions.”
If the world is going to throw me a bad day, I better make the most of it. And if I’m lucky, I’ll get drunk enough to forget it all.