Page 31 of If You Fight

Chapter Ten

Serena

My heart broke at the sight of Ryder bruised and bloodied there on the floor next to me. His right eye was completely swollen shut, and the left eye wasn’t much better, but at least he could see out of that one. His right cheekbone looked like someone had pounded on it with their fist repeatedly until it was nearly as swollen as the eye above it. Dried blood from where it had trickled out of his mouth stained his chin and jaw. And by the way he cringed every time I even got close to his shoulder and his side, I suspected whoever had done this hadn’t limited their anger to his face.

“Ryder, can you get up? If you can get to the couch, I can clean you up and get you some ice so some of that swelling can go down.”

He winced at my mention of moving and let out what sounded like an excruciatingly painful sigh. “I don’t know. I think I’ve got some broken ribs, and my shoulder might be dislocated. I can probably walk, but getting to a standing position is going to be the problem.”

“I can just sit here with you then,” I said. “I can bring everything you need right here.”

Shaking his head, he gave me a tiny smile. “No, I can’t stay on the floor forever. I need to get up.”

Every word sounded like it was being dragged out of him. I didn’t know how he’d ever make it across the room to the couch, even with me at his side.

He closed his eyes and groaned loudly as he slowly rolled over onto his stomach. I wanted to reach out and run my hand down his back, but I knew it would only make him hurt worse. When the pain subsided, he eased up onto his hands and knees and let out a low groan.

“Just tell me when you want me to help you up,” I said, trying to sound chipper and supportive even as I struggled seeing him this way.

Hanging his head, he took a few shallow breaths. “I’ll meet you at the couch. Go get some ice and some water. Actually, forget the water. Bring the whisky.”

“Are you sure? I can help you get there.”

He shook his head but didn’t look at me. “No. I’ll be fine.”

I knew he was too proud to have me help him, even though he obviously needed help. I wasn’t sure if I’d see him back on the floor when I returned from the kitchen, but I hurried off to gather up the things he needed.

Even though I found the whisky and ice quickly and even got a bottle of Advil and a wet washcloth to clean his face, I didn’t go back into the living room for nearly five minutes, as much as I wanted to just in case he needed my help. I knew him well enough to understand he didn’t want me seeing him beaten and broken like this.

What I wanted was to know who had done this to him and why.

“Serena, you can come out now,” he said in a low voice that barely made it to the kitchen.

I walked in and saw him leaning back against the couch with a look of utter agony on his face. Hurrying to his side, I moved to place the ice pack on his cheek but stopped.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Where do you want me to put the ice?”

He held out his hand. “Just give it to me.”

Gingerly, he put the ice on his face so it covered his right eye and cheek and asked, “Did you find the whisky?”

Nodding, I held the bottle out in front of me. “Yeah. Do you want me to pour you a glass?”

He shook his head and took it from my hand. “Nope.”

I watched him slowly twist off the cap before he tilted the bottle to his lips and took a gulp. He swallowed hard and groaned before taking another drink even bigger than the first.

“Another ten or twelve like that and I might be able to handle this pain,” he said in a gravelly voice as he put the ice pack back against his face.

“I need to clean around your mouth. There’s blood there. I don’t want to hurt you, though.”

He looked at me and gave me a smile. “You couldn’t hurt me any more than I already am. Do your worst.”

Dabbing the washcloth against his skin, I cleaned the dried blood from where it had stained around his mouth and on his chin as he leaned back with his eyes closed. I wanted to ask him again who was responsible for hurting him like this, but I didn’t.

Instead, I simply cleaned him up and helped him tip the bottle toward his mouth when he wanted a drink. But after about ten minutes, I couldn’t keep silent anymore.

“Are you going to tell me what happened? Did you fight again like you told me you used to?”

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