“Thanks,” I mumble while closing the bathroom door.
As promised, when I step out of the shower and wander into the room next door with a towel on, I find workout shorts and an Amherst College t-shirt. It looks a little small to fit on Ryker, then I realize it’s probably from before he even graduated high school—he bulked way up when he joined the National Guard. Sliding it over my head, I pause for a minute as I’m flooded with his scent. It’s a clean shirt, but it’s still his clean shirt.
Loud clomps announce his impending arrival up the stairs, so I hurriedly pull the shirt down and the shorts on before sitting on the edge of the bed. Ryker appears in the doorway holding more water, a box of crackers, and a bottle of Advil.
“Here. You’re gonna want something in your stomach to take the Advil, and you’re definitely going to want to take an Advil before you fall asleep.” He sits on the bed next to me. So help me God, next to me. “It’s a good thing you threw up already, that’ll help you sober up.”
“Um,” I clear my throat and try again, “is your wife going to be upset that some strange girl is sleeping in your house?” Somewhere from the recesses of my brain during my long, hot, shower, I was reminded of Ryker’s marital status. Looking at his hand, though, I don’t see a ring, and the look on his face suggests maybe I just opened an old wound.
“My wife?” He sounds like I’ve said the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.
“My bad, sorry, did you divorce?”
Ryker shakes his head with a grin. “Natalie, what the hell are you talking about? I’ve never been married.”
“But your dad said—” I cut myself off, trying to shuffle through my memories.
“My dad? When did you see my dad?
“When I was pregnant with the twins—”
His eyes nearly bug out of his head. “You have twins?”
I look around the room as if I’m trying to translate everything I’m trying to say into Chinese. “Yes. I saw your dad at Trader Joe’s when I was like eight months pregnant. He congratulated me, asked me about Eric, and when I asked how you were, he said ‘happily married.’ That’s why I thought you were married.”
Ryker shrugs. “He never told me he saw you.”
My stomach sinks. “Oh.”
What the hell?
“I’m sure he had his reasons.”
I snort, “Yeah, like I said, I ruined your life. He didn’t want our little dairy case run-in to screw up any healing you’d done, so he didn’t tell you.” Ryker’s hand wraps around my wrist as I reach for the Advil.
“Crackers first. Trust me.” He grabs my other hand and takes a careful breath, commanding my attention. “Natalie, you didn’t ruin my life. Stop saying that. Why would you even think that?”
It occurs to me that I actually have no idea if some of the things I’ve been thinking over the last few years are true. I use my drunkenness as a shield and forge ahead.
“Well, did you ever reenlist in the National Guard?”
His eyes close for an extra-long blink as he exhales. “No. I couldn’t.”
“And,” I pull my hand away and continue, “why not?” His brief hesitation allows me to finish, “Because I pressed charges, got a restraining order, and screwed up your record.” With that declaration out of the way, I tear open the box of crackers.
“Nat . . . it’s so much more complicated than that. Ugh. We’ll talk in the morning, okay? When you’re sober.” He opens the Advil bottle, places two pills on the bedside table, and puts the cap back on. “Take these and try to get some sleep. Do you think you’re going to throw up anymore?”
“No.”
“K,” he stands and takes the rest of the Advil with him, “night.”
“Night.”
As if I’m going to be able to sleep now.
Chapter 30
My fingers glide along the metal railing of the stairwell in my Mt. Holyoke dorm.
What the hell am I doing here?
Just ahead I spot Ryker, carrying someone. My chest clenches as I realize it’s me; my right arm dangling limp as he clutches me to his chest.
“Help her! Please, someone help her!” Ryker’s voice is hoarse and sounds weak, like he’s crying.
Following quietly as though I’m going to disturb the scene, I watch as we come upon ambulances and fire trucks through the door.
Right, the fire alarm.
“Sir, what happened?” A fire lieutenant runs alongside Ryker as he races toward the nearest ambulance.
“Help her! Help her, I can’t tell if she’s breathing!” He probably would have known what to do if he wasn’t so strung out on Oxycontin.
In a flash I see myself on a gurney and locked behind the ambulance doors while Ryker bangs his fists on them, begging to be let in. Another flash and I’m inside the ambulance with my body, banging my fists banging on the door, staring into his dilated pupils as the police approach him from behind.