“Ryder, go take care of Zeta.” Mike’s authoritative voice booms from behind me. “I’ve sent Marc and Danny packing. Replacements are on the way. I’ve cleared the interior and exterior, and I’ve called a cleaning crew. They’ll be here shortly. By morning, it’ll be like the party never happened.”
“Don’t try to fucking pacify me, Mike.” Ryder holds me tighter before addressing his bandmates. “I don’t want to see either of your faces in the morning. How dare you treat my house like this. This is my sanctuary, and you know how I felt about having strangers here. Plus, you gave no consideration to Zeta’s feelings, so get the fuck on a plane back to New York.”
“Ryder, I know you’re pissed, but the album—”
“Pissed!” Ryder roars, and I flinch. He runs his hand up and down my back. “Sorry, baby.” He makes a deliberate effort to soften his voice. “Just get the fuck out of my face, Micah. I can’t stand to look at either of you right now.” With those parting words lingering in the air, he walks away.
Back in his bedroom, he helps me out of my clothes and then wipes the makeup off my face. My eyes lower to his bruised knuckles, and I dip my head, brushing my lips across his damaged skin. Stripping off his own clothes, he pulls me into the shower with him, holding me upright as the warm water cascades over my frozen limbs. Steam swirls around us, but I’m still so cold. When we get out, he wraps me in a fluffy towel and carries me back into the bedroom. I perch on the edge of the bed, mentally and physically exhausted, barely holding myself together as he dries my body, helping me into my silk nightie before blow-drying my hair. He holds a mug to my lips while I take sips of hot sweet tea, and then he holds me in his arms as I sob. I’m in too much pain to speak, but he doesn’t ask anything of me; he just rocks me in his arms until I eventually drift off to sleep.
I go through the motions the next week, but I’m not really present. Kayla called my therapist before she left Sunday afternoon and lined up an appointment for me for Friday morning. Ryder is attentive and loving, and he doesn’t push me to speak. It helps that he understands. That he’s experienced flashbacks and nightmares, and he knows not to pry, that I’ll talk when I’m ready.
It’s Friday morning, and we’re on the private jet, heading to New York, when I finally feel like I’m human again. Perhaps it’s the physical distance that helps, and while I love Ryder’s Hamptons house, right now I’m glad to be getting away from it for the weekend. I rest my head against Ryder’s chest as the plane takes off. He twirls strands of my hair around his finger while pressing soft kisses to my temple. Tears prick my eyes as I think of all the ways he cared for me this week.
Lifting my head, I kiss him, slowly and passionately, letting my emotions flood through every sweep of my lips. “Thank you for taking care of me and for being so patient. I love you so much.”
“It wasn’t a chore. I was just worried about you.” He cups my cheek. “Are you okay now?”
I nod. “I think so. It’ll be good to talk to my therapist, but I’m okay.” I peer into his beautiful eyes. They’re more green than brown today but no less stunning. “I haven’t had a flashback like that in years, and it was scary. It felt so real. Like I was back there again.” A shudder works its way through me. “The mind is a powerful, frightening organ.”
“It is. And I’ve had vivid flashbacks like that too. I know how terrifying they can be.”
Ryder drops me off at my therapist and leaves for his rendezvous with Micah and Gar. They’ve been licking their wounds in the city all week while Scott and Ryder worked on the album at the house. But they need to patch things up if they’re to get the album completed by the deadline, so Ryder is meeting up with them to resolve their differences. I’ve appealed to him to forgive them, explaining I don’t want him falling out with his bandmates over me. They were stupid, thoughtless jerks to have a party in Ryder’s Hamptons home, but their actions weren’t malicious or intentional. They were just bored, horny, and high—a lethal combination for any guy, especially rock stars who are used to acting on impulse without considering the consequences.
When Ryder returns to collect me, both Micah and Gar are with him, and they seem to have patched things up. They apologize to me profusely, and I tell them all is forgiven even if it’s only partly true. I have zero to little time for Garrett Jones anymore. He’s a rotten egg, and it wouldn’t surprise me to hear the orgy had been his idea. But, bearing grudges is the last thing Ryder needs, so I’m letting this go, purely for his sake.
When we make an impromptu visit to Louise, she nearly keels over at the sight of the three, gorgeous, hot, young rock stars at her door, but she recovers fast, ushering them in and fawning over them without any shame. They brought her tons of Torment stuff as well as flowers and chocolates, and I love them for putting such a big smile on her face. The guys are good sports, letting her feel them up and posing for pictures although Garrett draws the line at posing naked for her. I’m glad he has some moral compass, albeit a very flakey one.
We only have thirty minutes to spend with her before we have to leave to attend a charity meeting. I give her a big hug, promising to call next week.
Micah and Gar go their separate ways when we head outside while I hop into the back of the SUV beside Ryder. Mike navigates the rush hour traffic like a pro, determined to get us to the charity’s HQ in Manhattan on time. Ryder has had this meeting prearranged for months, and he didn’t want to cancel, so he asked me to come with. I was happy to oblige, and I’ve been drilling him with questions for the last few minutes.
“Tell me about their work?” I ask, while we sit in traffic, wanting to have some background intel before we meet the director.
“They are the nation’s leading victim assistance organization, and they’ve been in operation for over thirty years,” he explains, lacing his fingers through mine. “They provide support for victims of crime and abuse, helping children, adults, families, and communities. They have a specialist child advocacy center, a bunch of different counseling centers, and a wide variety of community programs.” He glances off into space. “They do wonderful work.”
“I think it’s great that you support them. That you give so much to charity.” I know he donates to other charities too, but this one seems to have a special place in his heart.
He rubs the back of his neck. “I wish I could do more than just donate, but I want to keep my involvement on the down low. If I took more of a public role, the focus would switch to me, and I’d hate that. The work these guys do is what’s most important and nothing should take away from that.”
The director is waiting for us in the lobby, and she greets Ryder warmly, clasping his hands and kissing both his cheeks. “This is my girlfriend, Zeta,” Ryder says, introducing me, and a heady warmth floods my entire body at hearing those words leave his mouth.
“Lovely to meet you,” she says, smiling and shaking my hand enthusiastically. “If you have time, I can give you a brief tour of the facilities after our meeting.”
“That would be great. Ryder was telling me a bit about the work you do on the way over here, and I’d love to see it up close and personal.”
I’m a silent bystander at the meeting, as Ryder, the director, and the charity’s chief financial officer discuss plans and budgets for some forthcoming events Ryder is funding and helping to organize behind the scenes. Ryder kisses me firmly on the lips before leaving with the VP of marketing to sign some stuff while the director gives me a quick tour, explaining the work they do in more detail as we move through the facility. “We wouldn’t be able to provide the services we do without the backing of sponsors like Ryder, but his hands-on involvement and dedication is more than most give. It’s easy to see he cares. He’s a very special young man.”
“He is,” I readily agree, a surge of pride racing through me. I have no doubt that Ryder’s horrific childhood is driving his charitable actions, and I love him so much for trying to give back in a way that will protect other kids from leading the life he led. “And if you’re looking for more volunteers, I would love to help out when I’m back in the city.”
She smiles warmly at me. “We’re always looking for volunteers, and that would be fantastic. If you’re sure, we could complete the paperwork now and get the ball rolling.”
“Lead the way,” I say, returning her smile, happy to be in a position to help and to support Ryder with something that obviously means a lot to him.
32
Zeta
Butterflies are running riot in my tummy, and my legs are shaking so bad I’m wondering if they’ll hold me up when we step out of the limo. “Breathe, babe,” Ryder whispers in my ear, planting his hand on my thigh.
