15. Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
Bexley
"A nd local meteorologists are advising that members of the Ridgeview Valley community should stay inside this weekend unless absolutely essential. Now, back to Julian in the weather room with more updates on this storm of the year and the predicted rain for the next week."
I'm almost thankful for the thunder outside. Between that and my music, I'm successfully able to drown out my thoughts.
True to his word, Rylan and the Willowbrook cohort behaved themselves today. While some jeers and slurs were inevitable from others, the three of them barely looked at me today. Which turned out to be a blessing.
After returning home from the rooftop meeting with Rylan last night, I found Mom sitting on the couch, a somber look on her face.
Immediately, I knew something was wrong, and after pushing her for answers, she finally caved and admitted that her bloodwork had shown some issues.
To be on the safe side, Doctor Lavings had requested that she present to Ridgeview Hospital for monitoring. When I tried to press for what it all meant, all she said was, "It's just my actions catching up to me. It will be okay."
I had fully intended to stay by her side, expecting that maybe it was just a quick visit to do further tests. But unfortunately, she was admitted under Doctor Lavings' request.
Now, we have the storm of the year hitting us, two months' worth of rain forecast over the next week. Because of the storm surge, the hospital had told me I was unable to stay past visiting hours but could return tomorrow. Mom promised me all was fine, but being stuck at home was torture. To be on the safe side, we also agreed to cancel the warehouse fights tonight, just to make sure no one was caught out in this weather.
At least she's getting help—that's what I keep reminding myself. After she left, I realized that there was not a single drop of alcohol in the house. The trash bin was piled high with empty bottles and the sink suspiciously smelled of liquor. I'm hopeful that this is a step in the direction of her recovery. I know it's not going to be that easy—demons never are. But she's already faced the biggest hurdle which I'm so immensely proud of.
I'm doom scrolling TikTok to distract myself when a text notification comes up. Flicking open the inbox, I can't help but smile at the words.
Rylan: I thought you'd be interested to know that I received an email about my wildcat donation. Turns out they were so grateful for my generosity, that they named a baby wildcat after me.
Rylan: [Picture Attached]
My grin is wide as I open the attachment, spotting the tortoiseshell creature. Even more amusing is the fact that it has striking blue eyes that remind me of Rylan.
Bexley: There's finally an adorable Rylan in the world. Do you feel fulfilled?
Rylan: I feel like my credit company does. What are you up to?
I wonder if he feels as lost as I do right now. It's been forever since we had to cancel a fight night. And because of the weather, we can't even venture to the beach.
Bexley: I'm deep in TikTok, rotating between UFC clips and cooking videos – and the occasional Karen skit.
Rylan: You watch UFC?
Bexley: Of course I do. I like to fight, don't I?
Okay—so, it's a bit of a stereotype, I'll admit. But there's something beautiful about watching two fighters dance around a cage. It's more than just an exchange of blows—it's a performance, using not only your primal senses and strength, but wits. As for the Karen skits, what can I say… It's a weakness. Especially the ones where they get put in their place.
Rylan: I'd love to go to an event one day. Maybe next year when I'm across the country at college.
Before I can reply, there's an almighty bang overhead, before the lights flicker twice, and the whole house falls into darkness.
"Shit," I murmur, heart racing. The crash was so loud that lightning must have struck a power station. I hope the hospital has backup generators.
I glance down at my cell to check how much charge I have when it starts ringing in my hand.
There's a small moment of hesitation as I read the name of the screen, but my finger quickly swipes the button.
"Hey," Rylan's voice comes through. "Did you just lose power?"
"Yeah," I answer. "It was pretty loud over here."
He sighs, the sound of him moving around catching my attention. "I tried to keep myself entertained since the fights got canceled, but now that's gone out the window with the power out."
"What were you going to do?" I ask, curious.
"PS5. Hunter, Tai and I were going to play COD."
Snorting, I adjust the pillow under my head. "Typical."
"Says the one scrolling social media."
"Don't diss my hobbies, Rylan. It's educational . I was learning a recipe for Boston Cream Pie."
He laughs softly, my ears laser focused on the sound despite the pouring rain and thunder outside. "I hope you plan to share."
"With you?" I question with amusement. "Aren't you worried I'll poison your food?"
"Nah," he answers casually. "Because I'd share my homemade chocolate chip cookies. Sharing is caring."
"Now you're just being mean and pulling my leg," I laugh. "The Rylan Astor does not bake homemade cookies. Or share."
I can just imagine the smug smirk on his face, his tone cocky. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Bex. I might surprise you yet."
You already are.
There's an unshakable urge to slap myself. I hate how easy we can talk in the safety of our own company, away from prying eyes.
Even last night on the rooftop, the tension was palpable, but I didn't feel uneasy at all. Just two leaders, seemingly letting our walls down for a brief minute while we bonded over a common battle.
"I'm surprised you haven't disputed the transaction with your credit card company."
Rylan hums thoughtfully. "I considered it. But given how disadvantaged the wildcats are, I wanted to be nice."
My lips twitch. "How generous of you, Rylan. Did you ever find your pants?"
A pause.
"What do you mean? You stole them when you took my shorts."
I quickly turn my laugh into a cough. "No, no—you're mistaken. I accidentally put them into the trash in the locker room. You just had to look."
More silence.
And more.
"What?" he near shouts, just as another block of thunder booms through both sides of the call. "They were there the whole time?"
"Yep," I grin. "I didn't force you into my shorts. You did that all on your own. But side note—why didn't you have underwear in your bag? Probably would have been a better look to stroll out in your jersey and tightie-whities."
Rylan growls low. "Tai bet me that I couldn't run gym while commando. So, I didn't wear any that day."
"Oh, so you do own underwear. Good to know," I mock.
There's a split second pause as Rylan's breathing hitches. "I'm wearing boxer trunks right now. In fact, that's the only thing I'm wearing."
"I—"
My sentence disappears mid-thought, the mental image of Rylan in only his boxer trunks appearing in my mind. I've seen all his muscles through his gym shirt, so I know that the guy is packing. And once again, my hormonal brain goes into survival mode as I try to permanently delete that image.
"You're thinking about it right now, aren't you?" he asks incredulously.
"No."
"Bexley," he drawls out. "Are you thinking about me… naked?"
I slap my hand on my forehead, squeezing my eyes closed. "Absolutely not, Rylan Astor. I have zero desires to ever see you naked—or discuss it. Tell me more about your baking skills."
Rylan laughs knowingly. "It's okay. We've all seen your ass hanging out in those shorts. It certainly fucks with the imagination."
"You're a pervert," I snap playfully. "And for your information, I've been trying to search Facebook Marketplace for a new pair since you haven't given mine back."
"If you want them, come and get them."
Shaking my head, I don't bother replying, letting the conversation fall into silence. As if sensing my stubbornness, Rylan clears his throat, tone suddenly weird.
"So…" he starts. "I can also bake brownies."
By morning, there was a small reprieve from the rain as it lingered off the coast for a bit. Using the opportunity like other motorists, I quickly jumped into my truck and went to the hospital to visit Mom.
Rylan and I had talked on the phone for over an hour last night. Once the awkwardness had passed, we found ourselves discussing music. He explained that music was a huge part of running for him, helping him drown out the thoughts and setting pace. Turns out, we had a mutual favorite band and fell down the rabbit hole of talking about the lead singer's recent Instagram post. The cryptic message had left fans scrambling to decode, but Rylan and I both decided that it was an Easter Egg for new music. Lawless Dragons often did things like that, to hype up their fandom before a big announcement.
I check my cell for Mom's admission details that she had sent through, following the directions until I reach the second floor of the hospital. I scan the room numbers until I find hers, the door wide open, facing the nurses' station.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," I grin, placing both hands on the doorjamb.
Mom pauses, a spoonful of jelly in front of her face. "Bexie! I didn't think you'd be able to come. The weather is meant to be terrible."
I skip in, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "It's just sprinkling at the moment. The heavy rain is just off the coast. So, I thought I'd come while I had the chance."
She smiles warmly, pushing the Jello tub away on one of those wonky, portable eating tables. "You're in a good mood today," she points out.
"Why wouldn't I be?" I gush. "You're getting better, and things are improving at school."
Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and when her eyes widen, it's the first time I spot the jaundice for myself. The sickly yellow color hides under her eyelids, making me feel relieved that she's in here getting help.
"I haven't seen you for one day and already Willowbrook has improved?" she murmurs in disbelief.
I nod, trying to figure out how to explain it. "We've come to an agreement," I say. "A treaty or something."
Mom's face pulls into a look of concentration. "That's good, sweetheart. Just stay on guard. And make sure you are looking after yourself. You spend too much time taking care of other people."
Her statement doesn't miss the mark. I cup her hand softly, settling in the seat next to the bed. "I like looking after you, Mom. You did it for me. That's what family does—through the good and bad times."
"And now I have Sandy to help, so you can focus on you," she muses, tilting her head toward the door.
My eyes fall on the petite nurse, her smiling face full of warmth and fondness at the introduction. I give her a quick wave before nodding toward a stack of papers at the end of the bed. "What's that?"
"It's a surprise," Mom answers with a chuckle. "No looking. Sandra knows she has to guard it too."
"That I do," the nurse laughs, stepping to the other side of the bed to press some buttons on the IV machine. "Top secret stuff."
Our hands squeeze together as I watch the machine pump drugs through the canula. Every time I ask for more information, Mom just smiles and says they are reversing some damage.
Not knowing everything makes me feel uneasy, but I trust her. I know this must be hard, having to face the reality of her spirals. But she has nothing to be embarrassed about. She's a survivor, like me. We'll get through it together.
Hopefully she opens up to me soon. When she comes home, I'm going to do all I can to support whatever option she chooses. Rehab, AA meetings, detoxes, psychiatrists… I'll be there every step of the way. We have so much lost time to make up, and she's not alone.
We have each other, and that's all that matters.
I'll prove to her that love is not the enemy. And that she's stronger than her demons.
Spencers don't go down without a fight.