34. Ryder
RYDER
I fucking hate hospitals, and if I never have to step foot inside one again, I’ll be happy. Especially if I’m here because the woman I love has been hurt…again.
The doctor is still explaining what Alex will need after discharge when Alex starts trying to convince everyone in the room that she won’t need any of it.
I’m sitting beside the bed with my elbows on my knees, listening while she asks how long the dizziness is supposed to last and whether she actually has to stay out of work for several days.
The doctor answers both questions patiently, then gets to the part about Alex needing someone with her while she sleeps tonight and staying close for the next couple of days.
“I’ll be fine at home,” Alex says, glancing down at the packet resting over her legs.
Her mother shifts immediately in the chair on the opposite side of the bed. “You can stay with us. Your father can get the guest room ready before we leave here.”
Alex looks over at her. “Mom, that isn’t what I meant.”
“We have plenty of room.”
“So does Ryder,” Josh says from near the window, then looks irritated that he helped my argument before I’ve even made it. Nia presses her lips together beside him, wisely choosing not to comment.
The doctor looks between all of us and then back to Alex.
“I don’t particularly care where you recover as long as you’re somewhere you aren’t alone.
With the concussion you were already recovering from and the additional trauma from this attack, I want someone close enough to notice if anything changes.
Because it’s either that, or I’m going to keep you here for a week to recover since you’re clearly a flight risk. ”
Alex nods, but I know that nod. She’s agreeing with the words while already building a version of them that lets her do whatever she wants as soon as she’s discharged.
The doctor goes through the warning signs again.
Increased confusion. Vomiting. Worsening headache.
Vision changes. Trouble breathing. The bruising around Alex’s ribs will hurt for a while, but the scans don’t show anything that needs surgery.
Her shoulder is strained. Both wrists are raw where Preston restrained her, and the swelling around her face looks worse now than it did when we came in.
None of that is life-threatening.
I’ve heard that enough times that I should be able to unclench my jaw.
I can’t.
When the doctor finally leaves, Alex’s mother reaches toward the papers in Alex’s lap. “Let me put those in your bag so they don’t get lost.”
“I’ve got them.”
“I know you do, sweetheart. But you’re going to accept the help because we’re here and we care.”
Alex holds on for another second before giving them over, and I catch the tiny breath she lets out afterward. She’s exhausted. Her eyes have been open less and less over the last hour, but every time anyone mentions helping her, she manages to find a new supply of energy to argue against us with.
Her father notices too. He moves Alex’s water closer without saying anything, then picks up the plastic bag holding the sweatshirt and leggings the hospital cut away or removed when she came in.
There’s dried blood on the sweatshirt. He stares at it for a second before tying the bag shut and setting it beside his coat.
“We’ll get you clothes,” he says.
Alex closes her eyes briefly. “Dad, I have clothes.”
“At your apartment? Because that’s gone in the fire, Alex. Or did you forget?”
“At Ryder’s.”
Nobody says anything for long enough that Alex opens her eyes again.
Nia is the first one to look away, but I see the smile she’s trying to hide. Josh scratches at his jaw and decides the parking lot outside the window is suddenly fascinating.
Alex catches on. “Oh my God.”
Her mother’s mouth softens. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You all did it with your faces.”
“I didn’t,” I tell her. “I’ve got nothing to do with them.”
Her gaze comes to me. “You’re worse. You’re sitting there looking smug.”
“I’m sitting in hospital scrubs with split knuckles and dried blood under my fingernail. I don’t think smug is what you’re seeing.”
“That sounded smug too.”
Her father turns away with a cough that doesn’t hide the laugh in it.
The small amount of normal in the room should make me feel better. Mostly it does. Then Alex shifts too quickly, winces, and puts a hand against her side.
I’m halfway out of the chair before I realize I’ve moved.
Her eyes lift to mine. “I’m okay,” she says.
I sit back down even though everything in me wants to check whether she actually is. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to stage a full-on body check to find where I hurt myself this time.”
“Probably.” I don’t bother trying to deny it.
She watches me for another second, then rests her head against the pillow again.
Her mother starts talking about bringing food to my house. Alex immediately tells her that isn’t necessary. Her father mentions picking up prescriptions on the way over, and Alex says we can get them ourselves. Josh offers to stay nearby tonight, which earns him a flat look from his sister.
Within two minutes, she has rejected help from every person in the room.
I fold my hands together so I don’t start pointing at people.
“Alex.”
She keeps her attention on Josh. “You are not sleeping on Ryder’s couch.”
“I didn’t say his couch. I will sleep in the guest room. Nia will do the cooking, it’ll be great.” He shrugs a shoulder like he’s not just inviting himself to move in temporarily.
“You live four minutes away.” Alex groans and shuts her eyes for a moment.
“I’m aware.”
“Then drive home.”
“Alex.” I can’t help saying her name, and then I take her hand.
This time she looks at me.
I nod toward her mother, who already has her phone open to make whatever list she was going to make anyway. “They want to help.”
“I know.”
“Okay.”
Her eyes narrow. “Okay what?”
“Nothing. Just making sure you know. Because right now you’re acting like them wanting to help isn’t a good thing, but it is.”
“I do.”
Her father quietly takes the empty water cup off the tray and replaces it with the full one the nurse left earlier. Alex watches him do it.
I wait.
She catches me waiting and frowns. “Don’t.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re thinking very loudly.”
Josh mutters, “Welcome to my life,” and Nia nudges him with her elbow without taking her eyes off Alex.
I lean back in the chair. “You don’t have to let everybody move into the house.”
“Thank you.”
“You also don’t have to chase them out before anyone’s even asked you for anything.”
That wipes away the little bit of triumph on her face.
Alex looks down at the blanket covering her legs, rubbing one thumb along the seam. “I don’t want everybody rearranging their lives.”
Her mother starts to answer, but I shake my head slightly before she can. She sees it and lets me have the space.
“They’re already here,” I tell Alex.
“That doesn’t mean—”
“I know.”
She stops.
I look toward Josh and Nia, then her parents.
All four of them look like hell in different ways.
Nobody has slept. Her mother cried enough that the skin beneath her eyes is blotchy and red.
Josh has been standing by that window for almost an hour because sitting would make him feel useless.
Her father has touched every object within reach of the bed except Alex, like keeping his hands occupied is the only reason he hasn’t broken apart.
“They’re scared too.”
Alex’s fingers stop moving against the blanket.
I don’t give her a speech about independence or accepting love. She knows all of that. She’s had enough people explaining herself to her.
“Let them bring the food at least.”
Her mouth twists.
“Just the food?”
“Start there.”
A quiet breath escapes her that might have become a laugh if her ribs didn’t hurt.
Her mother takes the victory without celebrating it. “I’ll make the chicken soup.”
“And no casserole,” Alex says.
“I wasn’t going to make a casserole.”
“You were thinking about it.”
Her mother looks offended enough that I almost smile.
Eventually her parents leave to get clothes and food, after extracting three separate promises that someone will call if the doctor changes anything. Alex’s father squeezes my shoulder on the way past, his hand staying there for an extra second before he follows his wife into the hall.
Josh lasts longer.
Of course he does.
He checks Alex’s water. Then he asks whether she’s cold. Then whether she needs the lights lower. When she tells him she needs him to go home before she throws the water at him, he glances at the cup like he’s calculating the range.
“You’d miss.”
“I’d throw the pitcher.”
“There isn’t a pitcher.”
“I’ll find one.”
Nia takes his hand. “Come on. We can help them without moving in with them.”
Josh doesn’t move until Alex reaches for him.
He goes to the bed immediately.
She hooks her fingers into the front of his shirt when he bends over her, and his arms go around her carefully enough that the sight of it hurts. Neither of them says much. They don’t need to.
When he straightens, he wipes one hand over his face and looks at me. “Call me.”
“I will.” The nod I give him is severe, and I genuinely do mean it.
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
His eyes move toward Alex again. “Anything changes.”
“I’ve got it.”
Alex makes an annoyed noise. “I’m still here.”
Josh gives her a look. “You’re also terrible at admitting when something changes.”
“That is slander.”
“It isn’t slander if I have witnesses and you’re in the fucking hospital as a result of it.”
Nia finally gets him moving. Alex watches them leave, and when the door shuts, the room feels much larger than it did a minute ago.
I stay where I am.
She lies quietly for a while, staring at the television mounted on the wall even though it isn’t turned on. I let her have the silence until her eyes drift toward my hands.
The hospital cleaned my knuckles before they let me back into her room. There are small bandages over the worst splits. The rest are bruised and swollen.
“You should have those looked at again.”
“They’re fine.”
Her eyebrow lifts so high I almost laugh.
“Yeah. I heard it.”
“Good.”
I rub my palms over my thighs and look toward the closed door. There’s no reason to watch it. Preston can’t walk through it. Nobody is coming to finish what he started.
I know that.
My body keeps checking anyway.
There’s no point lying to her after everything that happened this morning. “I’m scared.”
She doesn’t rush to tell me there’s nothing to be scared of.
That’s one of the reasons I love her.
I look at our hands instead of her face. “I know he’s dead. Remy called. They’ve got Mason Ridge locked down, and Mrs. Vance is okay, just a little dehydrated. Casey went down to see her himself because neither of us trusted the phrase ‘doing well’ without details.”
Alex’s mouth curves faintly. “How is she?”
“Pissed off. She tried to leave her room because she wants to see you, and somebody took her cane away and refused to bring a wheelchair.”
“That seems unsafe for the hospital staff.”
“It does.”
Her smile lasts a few seconds before fading.
I drag my thumb across the edge of one bandage. “The doctor says you’re going to be okay. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you’re here. Alive. Breathing.”
Alex reaches across the small gap between us and rests her fingers over mine.
“I’m here.”
My eyes close briefly.
Those were almost the same words she gave me on the floor at Mason Ridge while her blood was on my hands and Preston was laughing behind me.
“I know.”
She squeezes gently.
“I’m going to be afraid for a while,” I admit. “Probably annoying too.”
“More annoying?”
“Significantly.”
“That’s concerning.”
I turn my hand beneath hers until our fingers link. “I’m trying not to make that your problem.”
She looks at me for a long moment. “You can tell me when you’re scared.”
“I just did.”
“Do it again next time instead of installing another twelve cameras.”
“Those are unrelated.”
“Ryder.”
“Mostly unrelated. But you can give them all ridiculous names if you want. I just…right now, I need you to know that my sanity needs them.”
She gives me that look, and some of the pressure in my chest finally eases. I bring her hand toward my mouth and kiss her fingers carefully.
“When they let you out of here, come home with me.”
“I thought that was the plan.”
“It is.” I keep her hand in mine while I work out how to say the rest without making it sound like another temporary safety arrangement. “I mean after.”
Her brows draw together.
“After you’re healed. After you go back to work. After all of this stops being the reason that you’re staying..”
She goes very still.
I force myself to keep looking at her. “Stay. Live with me. For good.”
Her eyes fill so quickly that I almost regret asking while she’s exhausted and hurting. Then her mouth moves.
“Ryder.”
“What?”
She looks down at our joined hands before meeting my eyes again. “I kind of already thought I was.”
It takes me a second.
“You did?”
A tired smile pulls carefully at her mouth. “Yeah.”
I stare at her, waiting for the part where she explains that she means temporarily or until things calm down.
It doesn’t come.
“You live there,” I say.
“I thought we just established that.”
“With me.”
“Generally how living together works.”
I laugh then, quiet enough that it doesn’t hurt her head, and lean closer to the bed.
Alex lifts her hand to the back of my neck before I can worry about where it’s safe to touch her. I kiss her carefully, barely enough pressure to feel her mouth against mine, and stop when she winces.
She keeps me close.
“I love you,” I tell her.
“I love you too.”
Her forehead rests against mine for a few seconds before I ease her back against the pillow.
The door opens behind me, and I look over automatically.
It’s only the nurse.
My heart still kicks once before my brain catches up.
I turn back to Alex.
She’s watching me, but she doesn’t tell me there’s nothing to worry about or ask me to stop checking.
She just keeps hold of my hand while my entire life is clicking into place.