“I remember.” I hold onto his upper arms. “I collapsed when I saw the TV coverage. When I saw how mangled your car was, I couldn’t stop crying.” I wet my dry lips. “I went to the hospital. I tried to see you. I just needed to know that you were alive, but of course, they wouldn’t let me in.”
I let my mind wander back to that night. “I joined the fans who were camped outside the hospital, and I didn’t leave for three days. My God, Ryder there were so many of them. The police had to put up barricades to control the crowd as thousands of people arrived to be near you. They lit candles, held up banners, played Torment’s music, and prayed. As long as I live, I will never forget those few days. The camaraderie and support were like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It helped to know you were so loved. To know so many people were praying for you to come out of it alive. When a spokesperson came out and told us you’d woken up and were going to be okay, there was a colossal outpouring of relief. We were all hugging and crying, and it was the first time in days I had properly breathed.”
“I felt you there,” he says, shocking me again.
“What?”
“When I woke up, the first thought I had was of you. I could almost feel your arms around me, almost see your smile, almost smell the strawberry scent of your hair. The feeling was intense, but I dismissed it afterward, blamed it on my wishful thinking and the cocktail of drugs they had me hooked up to. But it was real.” He crashes his mouth to mine, kissing me fiercely. “You were there. It was real, and I felt the connection. Do you get what we have, Zeta? Do you truly understand it?” His voice is almost frenzied.
“We’re soul mates, Ryder. It’s what my subconscious has always believed.”
He nods agreeably, and his lips kick up. “I think I’ve eradicated all evidence of my man card.” He tugs me with him as he lies back down under the covers. “Because that word makes my heart sing.”
I giggle. “Trust me, I think you’re good. The new-age man card allows you to embrace your feelings and still hold onto your masculinity.” I press a kiss to his bare chest, inhaling the musky scent of his skin. “You’re all man, baby.”
“Our bond saved my life that night,” he adds, the conversation turning more serious again. “And it forced me to face some harsh facts about my life. Rod had been bitching at me for ages to tackle my drug and alcohol dependence, so I voluntarily checked myself into rehab after I was released from the hospital. Spent ninety days getting clean, trying to come to terms with my past.
“And did you?” I snuggle in under the crook of his arm.
“Not really. I felt more in control, and the psychologist I saw in rehab gave me some strategies for dealing with my panic attacks and nightmares, but they didn’t go away, and I don’t think they ever will.”
“And what about the other stuff?”
He kisses the top of my head. “I can admit to myself now that I was falling into a dark hole again. Recently, I’d been partying too hard, and slipping back into my old ways, but I told myself I had it under control. These last few weeks have helped enormously. Being back in the Hamptons house has always been my salvation. I keep to myself, bury myself in the music, and avoid all other temptations. I never invite people back to my house. It’s my only sanctuary. My only privacy. And having you back in my life has given me purpose. Given me a reason to clean up my act.” He tilts my face up to his. “Because I want to be the kind of man you deserve.”
“You already are.” I stretch up and kiss his lips.
“I’m broken, babe, and a part of me always will be.” He looks so unbearably sad, and I want to erase all trace of sorrow from his face.
“I’m broken too, Ryder. Maybe that’s why it works between us.”
He’s pensive for a few minutes. Then he looks at me, and a wealth of emotion flickers in his eyes. “Before we get home, I need to know you’re mine. I need to know you’re in this for the long haul, because there’s more stuff I need to tell you, and I can’t do this if you’re still having doubts. I need to know you’re willing to work with me on this. To build something together. Something we should’ve had all these years but were denied.”
I prop up on one elbow, threading my fingers through his beautiful, thick hair. “I’m committed to you. To us. One hundred percent. I know we’ve still got stuff to work through, and I know it won’t be all smooth sailing, but I’m going nowhere. I’m yours, Ryder. I’ve always been yours, and I always will be.”
* * *
Things settle back downover the next few days even though Ryder has horrific nightmares every night, waking up in a cold sweat. Seeing Luc has brought it all back for him. I’ve moved into his room, into his bed, so I can comfort him through it, and helping Ryder deal with his demons is keeping my own at bay. I’m feeling huge guilt for cutting Luc out of my life, and while I can’t change it, I’m determined to be here for him now.
Ryder and I still haven’t had sex. Still haven’t moved beyond heavy kissing and petting, but neither of us is in a huge rush even though we’ve both admitted to being horny as teenagers. But this feels normal. Like we’re doing things the way they would’ve been done if we’d stayed together after juvie.
I continue to have weekly Skype calls with Harrison, updating him on progress with the biography and sending him my regular report for the magazine, and the articles are being well received. Sharing little snippets of lyrics from some of the new album has the fans going gaga for more, and it’s helping to build buzz for the album and the bio.
Being in the studio with the guys and watching their creative process play out in front of me has been one of the highlights so far. Ryder is their main songwriter, and while he usually comes up with the lyrics, the melody is something they all work on together. It amazes me how Ryder will come up with a loose melody, strumming it on his guitar, and then Gar will come in with the bassline, Micah will effortlessly pick up the rhythm on his guitar, and Scott will start pounding the drums in sync with the beat.
I’ve been so lost in the music, that half the time I forget to record stuff I should. But it’s all good. I’ve been taking photos and videos, and I plan to link them in the e-book edition of the biography to give fans a real intimate view of the process involved in writing and producing an album. I also spend dedicated one-on-one time with each band member on a weekly basis, asking them questions about their personal lives, and I’m getting to know all of them better.
They’re a great group of guys; although I’m still struggling to warm up to Gar, because he has a predilection for speaking before thinking and a mind that’s firmly fixed in the gutter. Just yesterday, he told me he’s jerking off so much right now he thinks he has repetitive strain injury. I rolled my eyes so hard it’s a wonder they didn’t roll right out of my eye sockets. From the sordid stories he keeps insisting on sharing with me, it’s clear life in the Hamptons is a world away from their usual routine in the city, where they work hard and party hard in equal measure. I worry about Gar’s influence on Ryder once we return to New York, and it’s something that keeps me up at night.
Ryder spoke to Kat, proposing the plan for Luc to come and live with us when he’s up to it, and she was enthusiastic about the idea, suggesting a change of scenery would do wonders for her brother. Ultimately, it’ll be Luc’s decision, and he’s not of sound mind yet to make that call, but I’m really hoping he will come here with us for a bit, hoping to get the opportunity to renew our friendship and support him like I should’ve been doing all these years.
It’s Friday morning, and I’m in the kitchen making eggs and bacon for breakfast with the boys grouped around the counter behind me. Poor little Mattie is sick at the moment, so Linda and Scott have been holed up in the guesthouse looking after the little guy. Louise is on loud speaker, currently flirting up a storm with Ryder, Micah, and Garrett. I’ve been calling her a couple times a week to check in, and she’s on first-name terms with all the guys now.
“Garrett, darling,” she purrs, as I plate up our food. “I need another favor.”
“Another one?” Gar teases. “You’re a dirty, dirty girl, Louise.”
Three sets of eyes instantly dart to Garrett.
