Page 37 of Ryder: Shadows and Desires
“Yeah... yeah, I will, as long as you really are okay with it.” I’m not sure why I take the offer so easily, but it’s also a massive relief to think I have somewhere to stay tonight. I don’t know Tiffany enough anymore to bother her, and Dolores is so precious that I’d rather risk my relationship with Andrew before coming to her. “Thanks, Andrew.”
“Can you drive here?”
“No,” I reply, looking for my car. “I can’t access it with all the cop cars around.”
“Leave it all for tonight. I’ll send Ryder over, and you can come here and deal with insurance and all that dumb shit while you’re here. Maybe eat some food or something. That area is shit at night, and it’s almost six.”
“Since when do you care?”
“Half your house fell into the ground, Julie. That comes with a lot of sympathy points.”
I snicker, but then my mind finally catches up and hears what he said—Ryder can pick me up.
“Oh, no—um. I mean, I can just call someone else. To come grab me.”
“No, you two barely talk. If you’re going to New York, we need this to be a team. Chat with him a little. Do something. It might be a good distraction. He’s nicer when someone else is clearly going through some shit, so I’m not worried about it.”
I blink rapidly, eyeing my ruined house. What a literal shit-show.
* * *
More than one person checks on me, a handful of neighbors introducing themselves. If I hadn’t been so sucked into my own head, I may have met them sooner. There’s quite a few kind souls that live here.
I skim my gaze down the street when I see a large black truck park down the road, Ryder exiting and surveying the area. There's a swagger that fighters have when they're high in their training, and he definitely harnesses it.
He's chewing on that plump lower lip when he spots me, and I sigh, dropping my head to stare at my hands.
I didn't count on how embarrassing this might be. I'm sitting on the curb when he stands next to me, and I regret allowing Andrew to talk me into having Ryder pick me up. I stare at my bags that are between my feet, having grabbed everything from my car. It’ll still be a good few hours before the vehicle itself is moveable.
"That your house?" he asks.
I glance to see he's facing the broken home. Luckily, there's no more damage, and only half of the roof crumbled. They told me that regardless, they would have had to tear the house down to rebuild with a new foundation.
"Yeah, want to come over for dinner?" I ask, trying to lighten the mood, despite the way my heart hangs with shame.
Shame of what? I'm not sure. Maybe it's because my life fell apart—literally and figuratively—in a span of six months, and I have absolutely no control over it.
He smirks, but doesn't reply to the joke. I drop my gaze to his leather boots.
"You doing okay, Stevens?”
"Oh, just great," I manage out, a wave of emotion flooding me at him asking if I’m alright.
Why bother trying to put on a clean face for him? I'm the kind of person who loses a brother in a freak car accident, and then half my house falls into the ground.
Ryder is a celebrity crush.
I definitely don't get lucky like that. At this rate, I'm just lucky that he hasn't kicked me off of the team.
"Doing. Just. Fine," I reiterate, staring at the house, my eyes wide and unblinking.
I can see his feet shuffle in my peripheral, like he's not sure what to say. Then he joins me on the cold pavement, our shoulders almost touching. “Andrew said you're coming to his house?"
"Apparently," I reply, not able to face him. I don't know why it'll make things worse, but it just will.
"You need to go buy some things? Doubt you're getting back in there tonight."
“Crap, I didn't even think about that," I mutter.
