Chapter 10 #3
I peer at his grinning face. “You’re a mess, Ryker. What happened to behaving tonight?”
He pouts. “You didn’t want to play with me, but you were playing with him,” he mutters. “Do whatever you want. I can drink if I want to,” he snaps before he suddenly presses his face into my neck and inhales. I try to ignore him as he wraps himself around me. “I missed you,” he whines.
“Alright, time to go.” I hoist him into the air and toss him over my shoulder, my hand on his back to keep him in place. “Do not throw up on me, Ry. I mean it,” I snap.
Turning to Strike and Dash, I see they already have our coats. “Come on, let’s get him home before we get into trouble.”
“Good idea. You okay with him?” Strike asks. “I can carry him if you want.”
“No, Fox!” Ry yells and almost falls off my shoulder. Grunting, I straighten him and smack his hip.
“Stop moving or I’ll dump you,” I warn harshly, and he whines as I focus on Strike. “Nah, it’s okay. Come on, let’s go home.”
I wave at Team as I head to the door.
Ryker’s hands slide down my back and smack my ass as he giggles.
I fucking hate the way I like it.
He smells like a brewery.
I dump him on his bed, and he groans, his eyelids fluttering, but they remain shut.
I should just leave him, but I can’t. Crouching down in annoyance, I pull off his shoes and socks before sitting him up.
He sighs and buries his face in my chest as I tug his shirt off and toss it toward his hamper.
It’s a mess in here. There are clothes and makeup everywhere.
“Alright, baby boy, down you go.” I help him into bed, tucking the sheets around him before grabbing the makeup wipes on the side table. Pushing back his hair, I carefully rub off eyeliner and mascara before tossing the used wipe into the trash.
My hand lingers on his face, tracing his perfect features, and I allow myself a moment of weakness. He sighs and leans into my touch, and I swallow the pain it causes before leaping up and backing away. I can’t let myself become entangled again. I can’t give into this. We are too broken.
Turning away, I pick up his clothes and clean his mess, just like I used to in the van, but when I’m lining up his notes on his desk, I freeze when I see the only framed picture in the entire room.
I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before, but it’s in a dark frame, the only personal touch in the entire place, and completely clean and dusted.
Picking it up carefully, I scan our faces. It’s just him and me. We were young and we had barely just met, my hair my natural bright blond. Ryker and I smile as he leans into me. We look so happy.
How the fuck did we get to this from that?
“Fox,” he whines behind me. Setting the framed photo down, I hurry back to his side. “I feel sick.”
I roll him to his side and help him sit up, noticing his face is pale. “Why did you drink so much?” I ask.
He’s quiet, but his eyes open and he stares at me. “Do you think he’s better looking than me?”
“Who?” I ask, confused as I find a bottle of water on his side table and open it.
“That guy from tonight,” he mutters, seeming less drunk now. I find some pain pills and place them on the table as I turn back to him.
I ignore his question. I’m not playing this game with him. It isn’t fair. The one night I go out and have fun, I’m made to drag his drunk ass home.
“Drink,” I tell him, and he turns his face away. “Ryker. Drink,” I demand.
“No. Tell me,” he counters.
Gripping his chin, I turn his face back to mine. His eyes widen as I pour the water into my mouth and force his open, then I spit it into his and cover his lips with my hand. “Swallow,” I demand.
I feel his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, then I nod and release him, capping the water before I grab one of the pills and press it to his lips.
He rolls them inwards, and I lose patience.
Gritting it between my teeth, I force his mouth open, and he gently bites it from mine and swallows.
This time, I pour the water into his mouth, and he swallows it.
“Fox—”
“Don’t,” I mutter.
He stares at me as I tidy his nightstand. “I’m sorry.” His voice is slurred, but it makes me look at him. “I am.”
“You’re always sorry, but then you always do it again,” I mutter.
“I know.” He catches my hand, and I look at him, seeing something vulnerable in his gaze as he swallows hard. “I love you.”
“Okay, time to sleep.” My voice is thick with agony. I wish he could say those words and mean them, but he won’t remember tomorrow, and it isn’t fucking fair. They are the three words I ache to hear more than anything, and to him, they are just a drunken memory he would rather forget.
How many times has he told me he loves me when he’s drunk?
“No, say it back,” he demands.
“Ryker, you are being a brat?—”
“Good! At least you’re looking at me!” he snaps, shoving me away with loose limbs.
“What do you mean?” I frown as I sit him up, but he’s swaying.
“You don’t look at me anymore. You barely even acknowledge me. It’s like I don’t exist to you, and I hate it. I fucking hate it!” Tears form in his eyes. “I hate that you spent all night with him. I wanted us to have fun like old times. Why can’t we?”
“We just can’t,” I reply.
“But why?” he demands. “Why do you hate me so much?”
“I wish I hated you!” I snap as I shake him. “We are too far gone, Ryker. Everything is too messed up between us, and you pulling this shit doesn’t help. If you want to be in my life, then good, fine—be a better friend, a better bandmate—but not like this.”
“You won’t ignore me anymore?” he whispers as tears leak down his face, and despite me knowing better, I brush them away. He’s always been a sloppy drunk.
“I could never ignore you, even if I wanted to. I’m aware of every single thing you do, and it hurts,” I admit. “Now get some sleep. If you want, we can talk again in the morning.”
“Okay.” He sniffles and settles down. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
“Sure.” I nod even though I know we won’t.
He’s a liar. He’ll be back to running in the morning and acting like nothing happened.
His tear-filled eyes lock on me as he wraps himself around my arm. “Stay with me tonight? Please?”
“Ry—”
“Please, Fox,” he whispers. “I can’t sleep without you here. I don’t want to.”
Doesn’t that echo my own thoughts? I remind myself that the alcohol addled his brain.
“Okay,” I agree despite knowing it isn’t in my best interest, and I scoot up the bed, letting him curl into my side.
He begins snoring within seconds, wrapped around me tightly, like he’s scared I’ll run away.
In reality, he’s the one running as far and as fast as he can from me and our band, wrecking everything we worked for.
I don’t understand Ryker anymore. Why is he acting like this all the time?
He isn’t the same man I fell in love with, or even the one I joined the band for.
He’s different, and I wish I knew what changed him. Was it the fame, the pressure, or something else?
My phone buzzes, and I pull it out with my free arm, reading the text.
Team: I hope you got home okay. I mean it, rock star. I’m here whenever you need me.
I glance from the text to Ryker, wondering why the fuck I can’t just let him go.