Chapter 18
Ryleigh
The effort needed to bring back the bucket of ice feels monumental, and I lean against the wall trying to catch my breath. My ear hurts, my throat is on fire, my head is pounding like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
I can barely focus on standing upright, much less when I vaguely hear someone calling my name.
“Jesus Christ, what happened, Ryleigh?”
Strong arms lift me, and my first inclination is to struggle, get away—fight.
“Easy, baby, it’s me. What happened? Where are you bleeding?”
Angus .
It’s Angus’s deep, soothing voice.
I’m still mad at him, but I don’t have the luxury of letting it show right now.
“I think my eardrum ruptured,” I whisper.
“Ah, fuck. Give me your room key.”
That’s a different voice, but I’m too comfortable resting against Angus’s chest to care.
Someone is patting down my hip and backside, but it’s not sexual—they’re looking for my room key.
“Call down and find the nearest emergency room,” Angus says. I guess he’s talking to this mystery person, but I try to shake my head.
“No, please…”
“Ryleigh, this is serious. You need medical attention. Gatorade and Tylenol aren’t going to fix this.”
“I can’t afford…” I’m horrified that my voice breaks, but he needs to understand. “I don’t have insurance.”
“Don’t worry about that,” he says gruffly.
“Looks like there’s an ER about five miles from here,” the other person says.
I peel my eyes open as Angus sets me on the bed.
It’s Tate.
Okay.
I like Tate.
“Let’s get you dressed.” Angus is holding up a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.
I open my mouth but nothing comes out as I list to the side.
“Fuck.” Angus is next to me now, gently lifting me, holding me against his side. “Dude—turn around.”
I see the flash of confusion on Tate’s face before he turns his back.
Angus doesn’t hesitate to pull off my bloody nightshirt and then tug a Crimson Edge T-shirt over my head. He lets me lie back as he slides my denim shorts up, under my butt, and then zips them for me.
“Get her sandals,” he tells Tate.
Tate quickly complies and the next thing I know I’m back in Angus’s arms.
“Grab her purse and phone, will you?” Angus asks Tate. Once again, Tate does as instructed, and then we’re in the hallway again.
“Here, I got a washcloth, in case the ear starts bleeding again.”
“We’re going to take care of you,” Angus says.
“I’m sorry.”
“The only reason you should be sorry is that you didn’t ask for help sooner.”
Tears fill my eyes, but I squeeze them shut.
I hate showing weakness in a professional setting.
But this isn’t really a professional setting. This is after hours.
And I’m sick.
And Angus just dressed me.
That’s about as personal as it gets.
“Hey, what happened?” Jonny’s coming into the lobby, two brunettes hanging on his arms. He gently disengages and comes over to us.
“I’m taking her to the ER,” Angus tells him. “She’s got a fever, and we think she ruptured her eardrum.”
“Oh, shit, Ryleigh, why didn’t you tell anyone you were so sick?”
“I’ll take care of her. Would you let Kirsten know? She was worried earlier.”
“Yeah. Text us and let us know what the docs say.” He nods and then heads for the bar.
“Go on,” Angus tells Tate. “I’ve got her.”
There’s no doubt in my mind—based on the look on his face—Tate has a million questions, but he graciously doesn’t say anything except, “take care of her.”
The next thing I know, we’re in an Uber.
I’m leaning against Angus, and he has a protective arm around me. I don’t want to enjoy it but right now I’m too miserable to care where the help is coming from.
I should have gone to an urgent care yesterday but I’m nothing if not stubborn.
And frugal.
The money I have left is there for emergencies—and this is starting to look like one.
“You’re going to be okay,” Angus whispers against my hair. “Don’t worry about the cost. I’ll take care of you.”
For some reason, I believe him.
He’s an arrogant ass, but he’s not a bad human being.
And it feels so good to be in his arms.
This sort of makes up for the lack of post-coital cuddling the other night.
Sort of.
I must have dozed off on the ride to the hospital because I’m currently on a bed and there are bright lights, nurses asking me questions, and an unexpectedly painful pinch in the arm that makes me cry out.
“We’re taking a little blood so we can see what’s going on,” a nurse says. “Are you cold, sweetie?”
I nod, and a blanket appears as if by magic.
“We’ve got her from here,” the nurse tells Angus. “If you’d like to go out to the waiting?—”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says in a firm voice.
“Angus?” I reach out my hand, and he quickly takes it.
“All right. The doctor will be in soon.”
The nurse leaves, and Angus scoots a little closer, squeezing my hand tightly. I drift off, grateful for his strength and his presence. I’ve never felt as alone as I have the last couple of days.
When I open my eyes again, I’m not sure how much time has passed, but he’s still standing next to me holding my hand.
“Thank you…for this.” I look up at him.
“I owed you one,” he says, meeting my gaze. “I was an ass the other night. I’m sorry about how I behaved after we…made love.”
I want to tell him it’s okay, but it’s not.
It was hurtful.
Rude.
Unnecessary .
We agreed it was nothing but sex.
I was okay with that.
But him walking out afterward without even saying goodbye?
Totally fucked up.
“I know ,” he says, watching my face. “I was a total dick.”
I’m not sure how to answer, and I’m saved from having to by the doctor arriving.
“Hello. I’m Dr. Perkins.” A guy of about forty comes in and starts talking to us.
Sinus infection.
Double ear infection.
Ruptured eardrum.
Dehydration.
Strong antibiotics.
IV fluids.
It’s nothing serious, but I let it get out of control.
“You should have come in sooner,” he says patiently. “But we’ll take care of this. We’ll get you set up with two IV’s—one with fluids and the other with a strong antibiotic. Then we’ll send you home with a ten-day course that should fix you right up.” He pats my shoulder in a paternal way and leaves the room.
“I’ll pay you back,” I tell Angus. “Whatever it costs.”
“Stop it.” He shakes his head. “I’ve already given them my payment information. You just focus on getting better. Technically, your magazine should be covering this, but don’t worry about the money.”
I have to worry about the money.
I don’t like owing anyone.
Especially not him.
He’s been extremely kind tonight, but that doesn’t make up for the way he behaved. I already like him a little too much, so I don’t need to fall under his spell a second time—he showed his true colors that night.
I just don’t have the energy to argue about it.
After I’ve had forty-eight hours to get my feet back under me, I’ll tell him what I think of him.
In the meantime, I can’t keep my eyes open.
* * *
When I wake up the following morning, I’m in my bed at the hotel—and Angus is fast asleep beside me. We’re both mostly dressed, me in my T-shirt and panties and him in shorts. But it’s jarring to see him sleeping next to me.
Memories of our sexual encounter come rushing back, and I close my eyes again, willing them to go away.
No matter how badly he treated me, it was the best sex of my life.
Between the champagne, the vibrator, and his massive penis, I was well-sated. If I hadn’t been so hurt by the way he left things, I probably would have been begging for more.
That would have been a mistake, though, so maybe it’s better.
Maybe he did it on purpose for that very reason.
Because he’s not a bad guy.
Distant, arrogant, and not the politest guy I’ve ever met, but by taking me to the hospital last night, he proved he has a soul. That he cares, even if it’s only superficially. Considering the family that raised him, his behavior makes sense.
The Hollingsworth family isn’t known for being nice .
At least he’s trying.
I quietly slide out of bed and make my way into the bathroom. I have to pee and freshen up. I don’t even remember getting back to the room last night, but I already feel better.
The antibiotics must be working and now that I’m not dehydrated anymore, I’m actually hungry. I don’t know if I’m ready to go downstairs to the restaurant, but since Angus took care of the emergency room bill, I can splurge on room service.
When I walk back into the room, Angus is awake and sits up.
“You look better,” he says.
“I feel better,” I admit. “Like night and day. Thank you for taking me to the hospital.”
He nods. “Someone had to. I wish you’d told us you felt that bad.”
I get back into bed, but I’m propped up on pillows now, instead of nestled in the blankets like I’ve been the last two days.
“It’s embarrassing to admit you don’t have health insurance,” I say.
“Why not?” he asks. There’s no censure in his voice, just genuine curiosity.
“It’s expensive,” I say. “My dad didn’t leave me a lot, other than his condo, but I have bills. The maintenance, utilities, my car and insurance, gas, food, my phone… my influencer channel pays for most of that, but there’s very little left over. And I’m making like two hundred bucks a month at the magazine.”
He stares at me in horror. “Two…hundred? A month ?”
I chuckle even though it’s not funny. “That’s why I’m here—to earn a spot on the full-time roster. If I can become a staff writer, instead of a contributing writer, then I’ll be eligible for health insurance.”
“I see.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t realize… the healthcare system in the US is so fucked up.”
Our eyes meet, and I suddenly understand some of the pressure he’s under.
His family is one of the reasons the healthcare system is messed up. Pharmaceutical companies have far too much power, both in the medical world and in politics, making it hard on regular people like me. And he knows it.
“Does your family…understand that?” I ask quietly.
He snorts. “They do on an intellectual level, but from a business perspective, all they see is dollar signs.”
“This is why you changed your name,” I say.
I understood it on a very basic level before, but now it’s starting to make more sense.
“One of the reasons.”
“But do they still support you financially?”
“Yes and no. I don’t get money from my family anymore, but I did receive a trust fund when I turned twenty-five from my mother’s mother. I invested wisely and have a financial planner who manages it. I’ll always be comfortable unless I do something stupid. I won’t be a billionaire like my father, but that’s never been the goal for me.”
“Will your father cut you out of his will if you don’t go back to the fold?”
I lift one shoulder. “I don’t know and I don’t care. I made some good investments, and I don’t have much in the way of bills right now. Car insurance, minimal utilities on my house, and?—”
“You have a house? Where?”
“Apple Valley.”
That’s a suburb of Minneapolis, not far from where I live.
“Does the band know?”
He shakes his head. “We haven’t really talked about those kinds of details.”
“How come?”
He scratches his chin. “To be honest, I don’t know the answer to that.”
Before he can continue, there’s a knock on the door.
“Ryleigh? You awake?”
“It’s Kirsten,” I say. “Put a damn shirt on before she gets the wrong idea.”
To my surprise and irritation, he laughs.
“I’m pretty sure everyone got quite a few ideas after they watched me carry you out of the lobby last night.”