Chapter 41
Ryker
My lungs feel like they’re on fire from exertion and the cold air. Now that I’ve been running around for a while, my body has warmed up, and a light sheen of sweat coats my back. My muscles are sore, and I’m pretty sure I may have tweaked my shoulder, but I can’t even focus on the pain right now.
Pat and Holland have been on fire tonight, and as much as I hate to admit it, Ty Manning has been lethal tonight too.
This has definitely been the toughest game of the season, and it’s all because of that jackass Walsh. He’s got his whole team on a fucking war path, and they’re coming for me.
Shaking all other thoughts out of my head, I focus on the play, my eyes locked on the ball as it moves swiftly through the hands of my teammates.
My adrenaline is at an all-time high and I’ve never been more ready to crush an opposing team. I turn to look over my shoulder and see Holland and Pat watching me. I nod, and they look away .
As we begin the play, my coach screams from the sidelines and the crowds screams drown out any other thoughts. When I look back in front of me, I catch a glimpse of a beautiful five four brunette. But she’s not alone.
Fucking Davis has his hand on her arm and my jaw clenches so hard I think it might break. I have never felt so much rage in my body at one time. Not even when I’m dealing with my father. This kind of rage is all consuming. It feels like my heart is going to pound out of my fucking chest and I can’t breathe.
He's touching her. His hand is on her. He threatened her.
The world around me blurs, and the only thing I can see through my tunnel vision is Ashton Davis’s hand on my fucking girl.
My ears are ringing, and the shouts of my teammates grow distant. Gwen finally looks up as if she’s scanning the field, and she finds me, locking her big blue eyes on mine.
“Steele, get your head in the game!” I hear someone yell.
“Watch out!” another voice calls. They sound far away, and I can’t tell who they belong to.
A split second is all it takes. My focus snaps back to the field, but only for a second before a hulking mass of muscle, barrels into me. The impact slams me to the ground and I get the wind knocked out of me.
My eyes squeeze shut and the loud ringing in my ear makes it impossible for me to hear the commotion going on around me. I gasp, trying to get oxygen into my lungs but a sharp pain cuts me off. Fuck, I must have broken a rib.
Pain radiates through my body as I move to my side, clutching my torso. I can’t even open my eyes the pain is so sharp. Coach’s voice comes into focus, and then I feel multiple sets of hands on me.
“Ryker, can you walk?” Coach Shaw asks. I strain to sit up but it’s no use. I shake my head no.
“Alright, son, hold on,” he croons. Shit, this hurts. I’ve been tackled before, it comes with the territory, but never like this. This was deliberate. It had to be Walsh, but it happened so fast I didn’t see what was happening .
I am going to kill that fucker. And when I’m done with him, I’m going to kill Davis too.
“Hold on, Steele. You’re gonna be fine,” I hear Pat’s voice say, much softer than his usual tough guy tone.
His hand lands on my shoulder and gives it a light squeeze.
“We’re all here, dude,” Holland says. He must be on my other side.
“Oh my god, is he okay? Why won’t he get up?” I’d recognize that sing-song voice anywhere. My girl. Gwen. She’s okay. Davis didn’t hurt her.
Relief washes over me, and I let out a big breath of air, forgetting that my ribs feel like they’re searing into all of my organs.
“Ryker, are you okay? They’re getting someone over here. You’ll be alright,” Gwen tells me, her voice laced with worry. I force my eyes open, just so I can see her face.
Concern is etched in her delicate features, and it makes my heart squeeze. She’s worried about me. God, I can’t remember the last time someone was worried about me.
I reach for her hand, ignoring the pain, and she grabs it, wrapping her tiny hands around me. I can feel my body shutting down, probably due to the pain radiating through me, and even though I want to fight to stay awake, the need to sleep feels stronger.
God damnit.
—————————
The sound of beeping rings in my ears, and a harsh light makes me squint as I try to open my eyes. I feel groggy and out of it, and I hate that feeling.
I’m in a hospital room. Perfect.
“Ryker? Honey? Are you awake?” my mother’s voice breaks through the otherwise quiet room. Why is she here?
She rushes to my side and gives me a hug, a bit too hard. I wince, remembering what got me here in the first place. The game, Gwen, the hit.
“Yeah, mom. I’m awake,” I reply hoarsely. She places a soft kiss on my forehead before backing away. Her brow is furrowed, and she looks like she’d been crying.
“I was so worried. You have a fractured rib, but you’re going to be fine, thank God. I knew that rugby was dangerous, Ryker.”
Great. I’ll be hearing about how I should quit and find a new hobby for the foreseeable future, and I’ll be benched for the next month because of that shit head, Walsh.
I pull myself up slowly, the pain a bit duller than before, probably due to the pain meds they’re pumping into my veins.
That’s when I see my father sitting in the corner of the room. I hadn’t noticed him. Why would he be here? He doesn’t give a shit about me.
“The coffee machine on this floor is broken, so I had to go downstairs,” Logan strolls into the room with two coffee cups in his hand. He hands one to our mother and, she smiles at him sweetly.
Logan glances my way and nods once. Was he at the game? Did he see what happened?
“Holland, Pat, and Mason are here,” Logan tells me.
The guys walk in, and I almost laugh at how similar their demeanours are. Pat’s hands are tucked in his pockets, his face is pulled into a scowl. Holland looks just as serious, and of course, Mason is grinning ear to ear.
Mason strolls over to the side of the bed, his hand landing on my shoulder.
“You’re alive, man,” he chaffs. I shake my head, a hint of a smile crossing my lips.
“Shut up,” I tell him.
Pat and Holland walk up next, Pat looking a bit uneasy.
“Glad to see you’re still breathing, brother,” Holland says. My lips purse and I nod.
“Yeah, hurt like a motherfucker. But I’m fine,” I assure him, attempting to reassure everyone else in the room simultaneously. I am fine, but I’m fucking pissed.
Pat and I exchange a knowing glance .
“It was Walsh,” Pat states what I already knew. The only fucker on that team that would have played that dirty was Walsh. He waited for his moment, and he took it. I can’t really blame anyone but myself. I was too distracted by Ashton and Gwen.
I should have been paying attention to the game. I shouldn’t have let that get in my head. But seeing him with her, yet again, it made me feel things I’ve never felt before.
Rage, jealousy, protectiveness, possessiveness, and defensiveness, all wrapped up in a tight little bow.
It’s all new to me, feeling this way about someone, especially a woman. It’s infuriating, and it’s the last thing I need to be worrying about.
But I wouldn’t change a thing, because I have Gwen.
“I know,” I say pointedly. He nods, probably already thinking of ways to kill the bastard. This is why Pat is my best friend.
God, I hope Gwen isn’t here. I would have liked to see her, but not while my father is here. I don’t know how much he knows about her, if anything. I need to keep her away from him. I can’t risk him getting too close to her and figuring out what she means to me.
He’d try to get rid of her. He’d try to remove anything he sees as an obstacle or a distraction, and I cannot have that happen.
“I think we should let Ryker rest, everyone,” my mom suggests. I don’t want to rest. I want to leave this hospital and go find Gwen. I want to hunt down Davis and Walsh.
“Good idea, honey,” my father stands from his seat in the corner, placing his hand on the small of my mother’s back, ushering everyone toward the door. He hasn’t said one word this whole time, but of course he’s opening his mouth when it’s time to leave.
“We’ll be back tomorrow when you’re discharged, sweetie,” mom tells me. Great, I have to spend the night here?
Mom gives me a quick kiss on my temple before smiling softly and leaving the room with Logan.
“See ya at home, bro. Bring home some of those grippy socks. Those things are so cool,” Mason says with a grin, and Holland slaps him on the back of the head. “Shit, what the hell, Monroe?”
“You’re an idiot,” Holland tells him as they exit the room, leaving me alone with my father who for some reason is still standing at the end of my bed.
Suddenly, I want a nurse to come in and give me more meds to put me to sleep so I don’t have to deal with whatever is about to come out of my father’s mouth.
His brows are pulled together into a tight scowl as he looks down at me, no doubt thinking about what a terrible failure of a son I am.
“You’re distracted,” he says patently. “I’ve told you, you should be focusing on school and your grades, not some silly game,” he spits. My jaw tenses as I bite back my response. I don’t want to argue with him. I’m tired of having the same conversation over and over again.
“It’s that girl, isn’t it? That’s why you’re acting stupid and getting distracted at your games. You let some imbecile break your damn rib for some girl? Jesus, Ryker. When are you going to grow up?” his words sting, but I don’t show any reaction. I can’t let him know he’s getting to me.
“It has nothing to do with a girl, father. I’m not distracted,” I assure him, hoping he’ll believe me and drop it. God, hope is a fucking bitch.
“Look at you. Broken, lying in a hospital. It’s pathetic,” he scoffs, shaking his head and looking to the ground before letting out a heavy breath of air.
“You will quit rugby. You will focus on classes, and you will graduate. Then, you’ll take a job with the Steele Corporation and marry a woman of status. Not some little girl you’ve suddenly become infatuated with. Do you understand me?”
My blood boils and I’m surprised the beeping of the heart monitor hasn’t sped up at all, because I feel like it’s pounding as if I’d just run a marathon.
Gritting my teeth, I say the one thing I can to get him off my back about Gwen for the time being.
“There is no girl. There was a girl from my class that I used to help me pass an assignment, and now she’s gone. She’s no one. She’s nothing,” I lie, my heart constricting. Bile rises in my throat at the words I just uttered. I meant none of it, but my father seems to believe it.
“Good,” he takes a step back, tugging at the end of his suit jacket. “Speak with your coach tomorrow, or I will.”
He turns and walks out of the room without another word, leaving me alone with my rage and my thoughts.
How is this my life? Honestly, I know I’ve been a shitty person. I’ve treated people poorly due to my name and status, I’ve been cruel and unforgiving, but I blame it all on my father and my upbringing.
If I’d grown up with a father who actually cared about me, spent time with me, taught me how to be a decent man, maybe everything could have been different. My mother did her best, but a young boy needs a father, and mine was never around.
Okay, enough with the pity party.
I have to figure out what I’m going to do about Davis, and now Walsh.
Luckily, I have plenty of time to think while I’m stuck in this hospital.