Page 69 of Dmitri

I’d finally passed out, my last thought being that the moment I turned my back or closed my eyes, she’d vanish like a dream.

Which is exactly what she did, goddamnit.

Rolling out of bed, I stumble into the shower and wash up. The food I ordered yesterday still sits on its tray, wasted. I snag the half-eaten croissant and shove it in my mouth, loving that Daelyn’s mouth was on it, too.

Wow. I’m pathetic. Where that woman’s lips have been shouldnotturn me on like this. Not over a pastry.

I shove a handful of cold, stale fries into my mouth next. They taste like nothing. The younger, starved me would have attacked the half-eaten burger and untouched steak, regardless of how long it sat out. But I don’t do that anymore. Risking food poisoning will only keep me away from Daelyn, and that’s not happening.

The bowl of fruit is still up for grabs, so I shove handfuls of fruit into my mouth instead. I’ve spent too much of my childhood going hungry to throw all this food away as an adult. It doesn’t matter that I can make something fresh. Deep down, I’m still the deprived kid who lost it all because I couldn’t hide my demons like I was supposed to.

After getting dressed, I yank the door open and storm down the hallway, ready for work. Guilt eats at me for taking the night to myself, especially last minute. And I took a room that was likely booked by a member, not giving a fuck that I was using my privilege to do it.

Heading to the kitchen first, I beeline for the espresso machine. Ten minutes later, I’m halfway to Ryker’s office, prepared to get my ass handed to me for my recent behavior.

Ry’s at his desk, his woman perched on his lap.

“Morning Sunshine,” Tara says with a big goofy smile.

“Morning.”

“Leave us for a minute, Butterfly.” Ryker taps her thigh, and she gets up, kisses his throat, and steals my coffee right out of my hands before leaving the room.

Little brat. She’s lucky I love her.

Ryker leans back in his chair, deadpanning me, and I match his energy, unfazed.

“We need to talk, D.”

“I’ll set things right with whoever I took the room from last night. I hadn’t planned on my sub being here for so long. Things kind of snowballed.”

“I don’t give a fuck about who you took the room from. And neither do you.”

That’s true.

“But you’re right,” he continues. “Things have snowballed, and I want to know what’s going on.”

Fuck, I don’t want to say. Rubbing the back of my neck, I look down at my boots. “I’ve just hit a wall, Ry.”

“A wall?” Ryker stands up. “You haven’t hit a wall, D. You’ve hit rock bottom.”

My insides squirm because he’s right.

“You’re letting strangers who aren’t vetted into our club. You’re meeting people from your past to do shit you know can get you killed. That’s not a wall. Hell, that’s not even rock bottom. You’re dancing with death and you—” He bites back the rest of that sentence and scrubs his face. “Christ, man. What’s happened?”

“My father’s dead.”

Those three words have my legs wobbling. This is the first time I’ve said them out loud.

Ryker freezes. “How? When?”

“Stabbed in the yard. A month ago.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, D. I’m so sorry.”

Bet he is. Ryker lost his mom over a decade ago, and though he’s recently come to terms with it, the grief is still there. It’s there for me, too. Losing Miss Ashley was a blow that leveled us both. But I still had my dad. Even if I didn’t visit him in prison, he was still…there. Here. Alive. In some fucked up way, I’d coped with his life sentence by telling myself that all because I couldn’t see him didn’t mean he wasn’t still living. He wasn’t still laughing.

He wasn’t still fighting…

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