Page 36 of Ryker

“That’s not what I fucking mean, Ry.”

“I know…” I rake a hand through my hair. “Fuck, I know.”

“She’s really gotten to you, hasn’t she?”

And just like that, Dmitri’s words suck me back into the past…

“She’s really gotten to you, hasn’t she?”

“Shut up, D.” I pace back and forth in the doctor’s office.

“Poor baby. You have a gorgeous woman bouncing on your dick every week.”

“If you don’t shut your fucking mouth, I’m going to break your jaw and have it wired shut.”

“I’d love to see you try.” He chuckles and then groans in pain. Holding his side, he leans back in the folding chair and rests his head against the dingy wall. “Shit, I’m pretty sure I broke a rib last night.”

“Serves you right for fighting a man twice your size.”

“Earned me triple the normal payout. I had to shoot my shot.”

“And you lost.”

Dmitri shrugs. “Still had to try.”

I get it. I’m also doing things I have no business doing for good money. And D’s right, Natalie is getting to me. I hate it so much I want to tear the skin from my body and set myself on fire. I’ll also come running to her the second she calls me to her apartment again.

I fucking hate myself.

“Ryker Hudson?”

I spin around so fast, my foot hits the leg of a chair and knocks it over. “Yes?”

“She’s all set.”

“Okay.” I glance at Dmitri for a hot second, then follow the nurse back into the examination room. “How’s she doing?”

“I’ll let the doctor talk with you.”

That’s not good. Every time they say shit like that, it always goes from bad to worse. I can’t let them think I’m not doing anything at home for her. “She’s eating more. Her appetite has definitely improved.”

“That’s wonderful. Her weight hasn’t dropped since her last visit,” the nurse says. “That’s a good thing.”

Good as in she’s going to be okay? Or good as in, that’s the only bright spot in her dark life? I’m not sure I want to know the answer.

“She’s right in here, sweetheart.”

“Thanks.” I slip past the nurse as she holds the door open for me. Mom’s rolling down her sleeve and I see the cotton ball taped to the crook of her elbow. They’ve taken more blood from her. “Is she doing better?”

I can’t look at the doctor when I ask that. My gaze remains locked onto my mom so I can read her expression when the doctor gives me his answer.

“Her levels are the same, but we’re running a few more blood tests,” he says from a stool. “We’re going to have to run more scans next week, too. I’ve told your mother—”

“No more scans, no more tests,” Mom says firmly. “And no more chemo.”

My heart falls out of my ass. “Mom.”

“I’m done.” Hopping off the examination table, her legs give out and I lunge forward to catch her before she crashes onto the floor. “I’m fine,” she lies, patting my arm. “He just took a lot of blood. Nothing a lollipop and juice box won’t cure.”

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