Page 50 of Something Tangled Something True
“I know I should just be glad I have medication at all. AndI am,” I emphasize. “But it just dawned on me thatthis,” I say, swinging the injector pen through the air. “This is my new normal. I’ll probably never have the luxury of not jabbing myself with this thing from now until forever, and it just—” I drop my head into my hands. “It sucks,” I whisper.
Ryder’s warm arms envelop me, squeezing me tightly to his chest. He buries his face in my curls at thecrook of my neck, and I swear I feel the feather-light touch of his lips graze over my bounding pulse point.
“I need you to keep being the strong, brave, determined woman I know you are, darlin’, because you need this medication to keep doing what you love. Okay?” he asks, and I give him a non-committal nod, my head now tucked under his chin.
He pulls away, his warmth immediately following him, but his hands remain on me as he slides them down my waist to my hips. He hoists me up onto the counter in one smooth movement.
“Now, tell me which thigh we’re doin’ this in,” he says.
His eyes meet my wide ones, and his dark brows climb his ruggedly handsome face. “Come on, Lols. I’ve got breakfast to make, so you’ve gotta hurry, darlin’.”
I shake myself out of the daze as I roll my denim shorts up on my right thigh. I can’t get the hem much higher, as my thighs start to eat the shorts the higher they climb.
Ryder grabs the box I keep my medication in, and he pulls out an alcohol prep pad, setting it on the counter before washing his hands. When he returns, he tears the packet open, working the alcohol in a small circle that widens with each stroke. My skin is littered with goosebumps by the time he’s finished.
He takes the pen from the counter beside me and peers up to meet my eyes. I nod, reassuring him it’s okay.
He uncaps the pen and says, “Almost done, darlin’,” before he plunges it into my skin, pressing down and counting backward from ten to allow all of the medication to disperse.
When he's done, I reach out for him, my fingers biting into his forearm. “Ry,” I say, the words barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”
Those cerulean eyes peer into mine. He takes my expression in, pressing his forehead against mine. “Thankyou, Lols.”
“For what?”
“For—” he drags in abreath, clenching his eyes shut for a beat before returning them to me, “For last night. For being there. For… everything, Lols. Allowing me to just be in your orbit. And, more than anything, letting me help you with this,” he finishes, pulling back and tossing the used injector pen into the small sharps container on the cabinet beside me.
His words send a warmth like molten honey pooling in my veins, and it takes every ounce of my resolve not to cup his cheeks and press my lips to his. Luckily, he doesn't wait for a response from me, gripping my hips and helping me off the counter. We get everything cleaned up before he takes me over to the couch to rest while he makes breakfast.
It doesn’t escape me that in less than one month, he’s able to determine my every need and actively wants to make sure they’re met. Russ had never done that over the length of our entire pitiful relationship, and I think it might be about time I stop comparing these two incredibly different men. Russ and I were never meant to be, and I think, possibly without knowing it, Ryder is healing all the cracked pieces Russ tried so hard to turn to ash around me.
Chapter Thirty-Four
CHICKEN NUGGIES
FRIDAY, JUNE 6
My tires are kickingup dust on the sunbaked road, and Beyoncé plays over the speakers. The land around me is in full bloom, all that pale-green grass having turned lush, patches of wildflowers dancing in the wind along the edges of the road, mostly blue bonnets. They’re Lola’s favorite, but I can see a few splashes of orange, red, and yellow too.
I ease the truck around a curve, and the road opens for a minute, giving me a good view of the horizon. There’s something about this land that’s hard to explain. You’d think it’s just dirt and grass, but the more time you spend on it, the more you feel like it’s got a pulse of its own. It’s just waiting for you to pay attention before allowing you to discover all the hidden gems.
I keep driving, the wind in my hair and the hum of the engine under my seat, feeling the pull of the place I’ve always known. This land, this road, it’s more than just a way from here to there. It’s home. That word acts as a reminder that I should check in on the person who makes me feel most at home, no matter where we are.
“Ari, call ‘My Wife.’”
The music stops, and I’m met with her robotic answer. “Calling ‘My Wife.’”
The line rings a couple of times before she answers. “Hey, Ry. You finished dropping off the feed and fertilizer?” she asks, sounding a bit out of breath.
“Yeah, darlin’, I’m just calling to see if you wanted anything before I got home. I’m a few minutes out,” I tell her.
There’s more heavy breathing across the line, a crash, and then she mumbles something in Spanish I don’t quite catch. “Everything okay, Lols?”
“Sorry! Yeah, now that the kid can walk, she’s a little menace.” She blows out a breath, and her voice sounds closer to the speaker. “What were you asking again?”
I chuckle, a smile tugging at my lips at the mental image she’s painting for me. “You’re watching my favorite kidwithout me?”
She releases a small laugh, the sound light and airy over the phone. “Mayte works so hard all the time, and it can’t be easy being a single parent, so I kidnapped our niece and paid for Mayte to get a massage and pedicure,” she explains, and my whole body squeezes like I’m being hugged, pride overflowing inside me.
