Taking the steps two at a time, I get a woft of bacon and coffee. It makes my stomach churn as a wave of nausea hits me. Ever since I started my new meds, my stomach has been uneasy, and I haven’t eaten much. Granted, I didn’t eat for two days after we got back from my nerves. Which still makes me wonder if that’s what made Ryder hire Ansley.
“Mornin’,” Ryder greets me too enthusiastically when I emerge from the basement door. He’s been like that since we got back. It seems everyone treats me like a ticking time bomb. They’re too scared to talk about it and wait for meto talk. I don’t see the point in talking when we’ve all seen the footage and know exactly what happened, down to every detail and word. I’ll be fine if everyone could just move on.
“Hey,” I say, wrapping my arms around my waist.
“I’m making breakfast, hungry?”
“Nah, not really. Just water, please.”
“You really should try to eat something, anything.” His eyes lift to mine, and butterflies swarm my belly. “I can make you something?” He continues.
“I promise, I’m okay. I don’t think it would stay down if I did eat.”
The muscles of his jaw click. I can tell his patience is wearing thin, and he wants to argue, but like everyone else, he’s afraid they’ll break me. I hate it. This treatment from my friends has to be the worst of all this. Hell, I think I prefer the asshole Ryder over this pitiful, guilt-filled Ryder.
“Well, how did your appointment go?” Really? That’s how he chooses to change the subject?
My eyes roll on an exaggerated inhale. “Pointless. Same as the past 4 days.” I reply, giving a tight-lipped fake smile.
His cheeks puff out as he exhales, palms flat against the granite counter, and my spine straightens.
“It only works if you…”
“No!” I interrupt. “It doesn’t help. I know what happened, I know how I feel. The only problem I have is that all of you walk around me as if you’re scared to treat me like normal without me exploding!” I hadn’t realized I was yelling and that I had stood up from the stool. Myhead snaps up straighter, correcting myself. Maybe I am a little on edge, but my point still stands.
Ryder’s brows raise as he stares at me pointedly. A knowing smirk played across those beautiful lips.
I nervously twirl a small piece of hair between my fingers, “I’m fine.”
“I’ll make a deal with you. Okay?”
“I don’t know, I guess it depends.”
“Log some things that have been bothering you, maybe some memories for your next session, and if you can make progress, I might consider telling Ansley her services are no longer needed.”
My interest piques at that. That’s tempting, but…
“But,” He continues, and I roll my eyes. I knew there’d be abut. “If I do that, you have to promise to talk to me when I ask.” He had walked closer. I must’ve been too deep in thought over his proposal to have noticed. His hands land on my hips, a devilish smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. I take a step back, putting some distance between us.
“What? You think I can’t do it.” I’m not asking, I know what he’s insinuating with that smug ass look.
“I didn’t say that.” He counters.
“You think I can’t, that I’m too stubborn, right? That’s why you made thatdeal.”
His head cocks to the side, crossing his arms over his chest, making his muscles push the black shirt’s sleeves to their limits. I bet if I listened hard enough, I could hear a seam pop. “I would never say youcan’tdo something.”
I flinch at his words. Not because they were bad, but because I think he truly meant that. “You mean that?
“With every fiber of my bitter black soul, yes.”
My eyes roll, “Your soul isn’t bitter or black.” Other than killing a few people to get to me, he’s harmless. I think. I cringe because what man can kill that many people and sleep peacefully at night? I shake that thought from my head.
He laughs, smoky and deep. “You have no idea.”
Those were his last words before he spun me around by the shoulders and urged me up the stairs to get ready.
Throwing up my signature messy bun after blow-drying my hair, I stalk out into the hall. I nibble my inner cheek, contemplating whether I should pop into Jessie’s room for a bit. She seems more depressed and spacey than I do after getting back. Would she even want to see me? It feels strange even thinking that Jessie wouldn’t want to, considering we had been inseparable in school.
