Chapter 20 #5
When he didn’t immediately respond, my eyes flicked over his shoulder to the bottles lined up on the bar behind him—full sized, not the tiny ones stocked in a minibar, all in various stages of consumption.
The evidence spoke for itself. When I slid my gaze back, his eyes had gone cold, anger simmering behind them.
“So is this trip your intervention? You think I’m some out-of-control actor who trashes hotel rooms?” he asked, his words laced with sarcasm. “Or is this a very special episode of Kids Only Club?”
“Don’t make a joke of this,” I said softly, a dull ache building low in my belly. “I’m worried about you.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps taut with restrained anger. “So if I have a drink to help me deal with the fact that my mom is dying, that makes me an alcoholic? Do I have that right? That’s just fucking great, Scar. Thanks for the support.”
Nausea curled in my gut. “You know I support you,” I started to say, but he cut me off.
“You know, I really don’t need this from you,” he ground out, his features twisted in agitation.
“You’re supposed to be the one good thing in my life.
You’re supposed to make me forget all this other shit, not pile on.
You’re supposed to be in my corner.” His voice had turned hoarse, and it was that rawness, how close he sounded to breaking, that made my own vision blur with tears.
“I’m barely keeping it together trying to make this movie and manage my mom’s treatments remotely, and now you’re pissed at me for things I didn’t do and coming down on me about my drinking?
” His chest heaved, breath hissing between his teeth. “This is not what I signed up for.”
I felt each word like a punch to the gut.
He didn’t know about the pregnancy, and yet his comments felt like a direct rejection of it anyway.
I’m needy and demanding; I cause him stress.
I make things harder. And that was just me—how much strain would a baby add to the pressure he was already under?
One more unexpected responsibility, one more need he couldn’t meet, would send him over the edge.
This is not what I signed up for echoed in my head like a verdict, brutal and final.
A cold sweat broke across my skin despite the bone-deep chill I couldn’t seem to shake, and a shiver rippled through me.
All of a sudden, everything felt dire. I looked around the hotel room with new eyes, taking in the ugly furniture, the soulless artwork, the dingy, germ-infested carpet.
Had I really thought we could make a home here?
That we could play house in some generic hotel room?
That I could raise a child with a man unraveling before my eyes?
This baby needed stability, not wishful thinking.
And if Ryder couldn’t give that to us, then it was up to me.
I pressed a hand to my belly and made a silent vow: From now on, I’ll do what’s right for you, Ryder or no Ryder.
My head snapped up at the sound of him grabbing his wallet, the scuff of his feet sliding into shoes.
“Where are you going?” I winced at the neediness in my voice.
“To get some air.” He jerked his shirt over his head, leaving his hair a disheveled mess, blond strands jutting out in wild tufts.
“Please don’t leave.” My voice trembled on the plea. My hand stayed on my stomach, like I could shield what was inside from the chaos we’d created. “Stay here and work this out with me.”
He paused with his hand on the doorknob.
“I’m worried about us,” I said, my voice thick. “I love you, and I need you. I’m…”
Pregnant. It was right there on the tip of my tongue, desperate to be spoken aloud. My heart begged me to say it, but I didn’t want him staying out of guilt, or duty. I wanted him to stay because he loved me, because he believed in us. I needed him to choose me.
“Scared,” I whispered.
When he finally turned to look at me, the fight was gone from his eyes, and I knew he was about to break my heart.
“I don’t know what to say, Scar. I didn’t expect things to be this hard.
I’m trying, but it seems like no matter what I do, I’m always letting someone down.
I’m so tired of feeling like I’m failing.
” He closed his eyes for a beat before meeting mine again.
“I’m just not sure I can give you what you need right now. ”
When the door swung closed behind him, I let out a sob, my knees buckling beneath me.
Bereft couldn’t begin to describe this feeling; there wasn’t a word for this kind of pain.
I crawled into the bed and curled into myself, arms wrapped around my middle like I could hold everything together by sheer force of will.
I cried so hard I could barely breathe, the kind of wracking sobs that rip straight from your soul and scrape you raw, leaving you gasping and hollow.
I cried until I ran out of tears, the devastation and fear of facing this alone leaving me shaking.
And half an hour later, the bleeding started.