“Are you always this…prickly?” I chance a peek up at him as I take a sip. “And how’d you know I wanted the tea sweetened?”
“You put honey in your coffee this morning. And yes. This is my warm and fuzzy side. Don’t get used to it.”
Ryker doesn’t speak again as I let the tea soothe me. His slow, rhythmic breathing against my back helps tamp down my anxiety, and when I set the mug down, I lean my head against his shoulder. “Thank you. I never leave home without my meds. But walking Pixel…I just didn’t think…”
“Why would you? It’s a safe neighborhood.”
“It is, but how’d you know that?”
“Used to live here. A long time ago.” His tone warns me he doesn’t like talking about himself, and I close my eyes.
“Pixel wasn’t happy. She kept whining. I guess I should have listened to her.” With a shrug, I nestle a little deeper into the crook of his arm. I’m so tired. And he feels warm. And…safe. “She wouldn’t pick a tree, and I was about ready to just take her back inside. But then she growled, and it shocked me. Before I could turn around, someone grabbed me from behind.”
I can still feel the hand over my mouth, and I scrub at my lips with my sleeve. “I…I tried to—”
“You’re safe, Wren.” Ryker tightens his arm around me, and with his free hand, takes my wrist and checks my pulse. “No one’s going to find you here.”
Nodding, I try to ignore what feels like clog dancers inside my skull. “I screamed, but he had his hand over my mouth. Pretty sure I kicked the other one in the shins. But the guy holding me dragged me between the buildings, and I bit him.”
“Good.” Ryker’s thumb traces lazy patterns over the inside of my wrist, and the slow back and forth helps calm me.
“That’s when the other one punched me. After that, I don’t remember anything else.”
“Did they say anything?” He switches to circles, then triangles, then squares, and the constant variation helps keep me focused.
Except when I close my eyes, I hear the gravelly voice of my attacker, and I can’t get the words out. I reach for my bracelet, dislodging Ryker’s hand. The smooth beads click as I run my fingers over them, tugging at the elastic.
Breathe in. Two. Three. Four. Out. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.
“Wren. Tell me.”
After another round of breathing, I manage, “You’re going to join your brother, bitch. But the boss wants to talk to you first.”
* * *
Ryker
Stretching out as close to the edge of the bed as I can, I stare at the clock, willing Dax to get his ass over here. But talking to the cops always takes a lot longer than it should—all that fucking paperwork.
At least he confirmed he has Wren’s laptop and messenger bag. She needs her meds, and though she’s finally asleep, little whimpers escape her lips every few minutes.
I can’t get comfortable. Turning to face the slight woman in my bed, I study her delicate features. Freckles dot her cheeks, and her auburn lashes flutter as she dreams. She clutches my pillow to her chest, and as she shifts, her sweatshirt slides up, revealing a deep bruise on her left wrist. Dammit. She should have told me about the injury.
Carefully, I ease my phone from the pocket of my jeans and send Dax another text.
Pick up an ACE bandage and an extra ice pack. And where the hell are you anyway?
“No.” Wren moans and tenses, and her legs shift under the blankets. A tear shines in the corner of her eye.
“Shhh, sweetheart. You’re fine.” For some reason, I can’t stop with the “sweetheart” bit. Reaching out, I brush a silky lock of hair away from her face.
My phone vibrates, and I jerk my hand away, rolling off the bed.
I’m blind, you piece of shit. Cut me some fucking slack.
Shame has me cracking my knuckles as I move back to the window. This is why I left Boston six years ago. What the hell am I supposed to say? Sorry? Sorry I abandoned you? Sorry those fuckers poured acid in your eyes? Sorry I couldn’t deal with my own shit and yours too?
I roll an apology around in my head. Or hell. A hundred of them. All the things I wish I’d said rather than walking out of the rehab facility without a backwards glance. Leaning against the wall, I scan the street, the lights of Boston Public Garden blurring as I sink into my memories.
