My stomach bottoms out when I realize I’d been so singularly focused on Collins that I completely missed the signs of Riley’s growing distress. Guilt swims in my veins, and my muscles tighten, feeling at war. I told myself that I would be prepared for everything so that I could help them fight all their demons. I stupidly never calculated what that would look like if they were both set off at the same time.
A hand pushes my back until I’m forced to stand.
“I’ve got her, Creed,” Asher whispers, but my feet are already carrying me to my boy. It’s the confidence in knowing that Asher and Blair can take care of her and that she’ll be okay in letting them do so that has my gait picking up in pace to get to Riley. The pain in my chest intensifies when he locks eyes with me, his steps faltering as I approach him. His lip trembles, and he looks like he’s barely clinging to the last fine threads of his brave facade.
Cracking.
Breaking.
Shattering.
All of these words do fuck-all to properly express exactly what my heart is doing right now. I was so focused on Collins that I didn’t notice my boy, my best friend, falling apart at the seams, and now he’s barely holding himself together.
The moment he’s within reach, I grab his face, and he splutters, trying to choke back a sob. I push him backwards until we stumble into our walk-in closet and close the door, giving him some privacy to let his emotions out.
The moment the door clicks closed, the dam bursts. Riley drops like a heavyweight as he clings to my shirt, and we both sink to the floor. Backed up against the island, I pull him between my legs and wrap my arms around him, one in his lower back while the other cups the back of his neck.
He’s not sobbing, per se, but the tears track down his cheeks, the salty droplets painting a trail between the freckles on his face. He’s shaking, body trembling fiercely while breaths saw in and out of his lungs.
He’s having a panic attack.
In an instant, I feel white hot anger coursing through me, all aimed at none other than myself.
I should’ve been paying attention to him, too.
While I was so busy getting Collins to safety, he was doing his best to swallow his fear and silenced his own pain to help me get Collins through hers. That’s where he and Collins are so similar, I suppose—sacrificing their own well-being for the sake of helping others.
Cupping Riley’s face, I tilt his chin until he can look me in the eye. His dark mocha gaze is watery as he finds my eyes and holds my stare.
“Breathe with me, Riley,” I softly instruct, then start to breathe, slow and deep. It takes three times before he starts to match my breathing and starts to calm. But I can still see the conflict and pain that fight for dominance in his eyes.
I’m not going to ask him to explain what’s going on inside this closet with Asher and Blair just on the other side, so instead I keep breathing with him until his body visibly relaxes.
“Better?” I ask, my eyes volleying between his, and he gives me a soft nod. He looks so pained and so vulnerable that it has my lungs constricting in my chest. My eyes flick to two items on a shelf in the back of the closet that have long sat untouched, and it gives me an idea.
I look back at Riley, swallowing the lingering guilt that I feel for letting him get to this stage of hurt, and give him a soft peck on the tip of his nose. I can’t help but love the soft flush of his cheeks with the contact. It weakens me right at the knees every damn time.
I want to ask him a million questions, but I settle on one. “How good is your grip right now?”
His brow furrows as he shakes his head in my hold. “It’s—I think it’s fine? Why?”
Riley’s been having a hard time expressing his needs both mentally and physically lately, and I think my idea might help him to get some of those off his chest. And for me to show him that he doesn’t come second to Collins, that he stands on equal ground with her, right next to me.
I release Riley and help him to stand once I’m on my feet. My eyes scan him from head to toe to make sure he’s okay before I twine my fingers through his and lead him to the back of the closet, where I grab a rashguard shirt for Riley, followed by our motorcycle helmets. Holding Riley’s out to him, he takes it with the most adorable confused expression, so I clarify with a cockysmirk that I don’t quite feel. “I think it’s time I make you my backpack for the night. What do you say, are you with me?”
Chapter 41
Riley
“BE MY CONSTANT.”
The cool evening air chills my skin even through the rashguard that Creed had insisted I wear. I know how to put on my own helmet, but I remain silent and still while I let Creed do the honors.
He was persistent, and if I’m being completely honest, I’m feeling fucking needy. I can’t explain it, but having him take care of me right now is giving me the same level of calm that my noise-cancelling headphones do.
Every move I make still feels stiff and robotic, like I’m just numb and my body is just floating through the motions.
I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.
