But in the end Jamison didn’t do any of those things. She didn’t do anything at all, really. Just nodded like he’d told her the weather. Or what she’d expected to hear all along.
Then she stood up and crossed to him. Dropped a light kiss on his cheek. “Okay.”
Okay? That was it? He felt like he’d just ripped his fucking heart out and all she could think to say was okay? “I’m not trying to hurt you, Jelly Bean. In fact—”
She placed two fingers on his mouth. “Shh, I told you when we started this thing that I was a big girl and I could take care of myself. It’s fine. I’m fine. But I should probably get going. I want to check on Jared, make sure Micah and Victoria are leaving him alone.” She walked over to the still-sleeping Wyatt and dropped a kiss on his cheek. “When he wakes up tell him I came by and that I’ll be back tomorrow.”
She headed for the door, pausing only to press a kiss to his cheek as well. “Good night, Ryder.”
And then, just like that, she was gone and he was left staring after her, wondering what the hell had just happened. Before he could figure it out, Wyatt’s voice, weak but with an unmistakable note of authority, rang through the room.
“You’re a fucking moron. You know that, right?”
Chapter Twenty
He turned to his friend. “How long have you been awake?”
“Long enough to hear you tank the best thing that ever happened to you.”
“Yeah, well, no offense, but I don’t think you’re exactly in the best position to give advice.”
Wyatt laughed, but it was a rusty sound, painful to listen to. “Actually, I’m in the perfect position. In case you haven’t noticed, my life’s a fucking mess. When you find someone who loves you the way Jelly Bean does, you need to grab onto her, not crush her into the dust.”
“She didn’t seem very crushed to me.”
“That’s because you were too busy dealing with your own emergency triage to recognize she was doing the same thing. She ran out of here because you ripped her open, not because she didn’t give a shit.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Dude, I’m wrong about a lot of things. But not this. Jamison loves you. She always has—you know it as well as I do.”
Yeah, but— “That didn’t exactly feel like love to me.”
“Why? Because she didn’t cry all over you? You’re a bigger asshole than I thought if that’s what you want from her.”
“Of course that’s not what I want.” Or at least he didn’t think so. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Jamison, had in fact gone out of his way to avoid doing just that. He’d ending things because he’d wanted to protect her from his fucked up life, from the bad shit that always happened to the people he cared about.
And yet, watching her walk away like that had wounded him in a way few things ever had. He felt empty, bereft, and had no idea what to do about it.
“She’s not Carrie, you know. She’s stronger than that. And you’re not the same person you were back then, either.”
He wanted to tell Wyatt to shut the fuck up, not to talk about Carrie. But he couldn’t, because if anyone understood her damage—understood what had happened to her and why she’d chosen suicide over him—it was Wyatt.
“She got hurt because I wasn’t there to protect her.”
“No. She was raped and beaten because the world is full of fucked-upness. And she killed herself because she wasn’t strong enough to move past it. She lost the light and it’s damn fucking hard to live without it.” Wyatt’s voice broke and Ryder knew he was talking about himself as much as he was Carrie. “That won’t happen to Jamison. You couldn’t knock that girl off her path with a fucking baseball bat.”
“What about you?”
Dead silence. And then, “What about me?”
“You nearly died.”
“I’m fine—”
“Jamison and I did fucking CPR on you, asshole. I walked into that room and you were fucking dead. Not unresponsive. Not passed out. Not fine. You were fucking dead. You weren’t breathing and we couldn’t find a heartbeat. That is not okay. Watching you kill yourself is not okay with me.”
Seconds, minutes, ticked by. Then “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, you are. You fucking dick.”
Wyatt laughed weakly. “For the record, I’m not okay with watching you throw away the best thing that ever happened to you.”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“Yeah, it is. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re having a damn hard time breathing without her.”
And here he’d thought the tightness in his chest was the first sign of an impending heart attack. He absently rubbed the area in question. “It’s better for her to get away from all this. In case you haven’t noticed, this life isn’t exactly normal.”
Wyatt snorted weakly. “That’s your problem, dude. You haven’t figured out that no one’s life is normal.”
“Well aren’t you the fucking philosopher?”
Wyatt ignored his snideness. Asked instead, “Do you want her?”
“I want what’s best for her.”
“That’s not what I asked, asshole. Quit being so damn selfless and answer the question. Do. You. Want. Her?”
More than he wanted his next breath. Why had it taken losing her for him to realize that? “Yeah. I do.”
“Then go get her.”
“It’s too late.”
“She left here a couple minutes ago. If that’s too late then you’re a bigger pussy than I thought. Get your ass up. Go fix this. And then bring her back to me and prove you did it. You do that and I’ll go back to rehab. And this time I’ll actually try to stay sober.”
Everything inside Ryder froze. That was a bigger concession than Wyatt had ever before been willing to make. “Don’t screw with me on this.”
“I’m not. But don’t you screw with Jamison. I want her to be happy.”
So did he. Jesus, so did he. He wasn’t entirely sure that he was the one to do it, but what if Ryder was right? What if he’d just broken Jamison’s heart and never even knew it? He couldn’t live with that.
“I’ll be back in the morning and we’ll talk about which rehab you’re going to.”
“Bullshit. You’ll be back tonight—with Jamison—or I’m going to get out of this bed and kick your ass.”
Ryder snorted. “That’s big talk for a guy in a hospital gown.”
“Don’t make me prove it. Nobody needs to see my ass hanging out the back of this thing.”
…
Jamison blew her nose on the rough paper towels near the sink, then splashed cold water on her face in an effort to alleviate the redness.
It didn’t work. She still looked like she’d been on a three-day crying jag. Which at the moment didn’t feel that far from the truth. It had been six hours since Ryder had ripped her heart out of her chest and this was the first time she’d been able to go longer than five minutes without bursting into tears. Could she be more of a loser? Then again, could he be more of a jerk?
The worst part? She’d been holed up in the back of a coffeehouse two blocks from the hospital for the last four hours. When she’d left the hospital, she’d originally planned on going straight back to the hotel. But she couldn’t—not when she was this big of a mess. Jared’s whole life had fallen apart that day. The last thing he needed was to deal with his hysterical sister.
But there was nowhere else for her to go. So she’d wandered the streets of suburban Houston for two hours, pretending to window shop. But everywhere she went, people stopped her to see if she was all right. Damn Texans. They were too nice for their own good—or anyone else’s, for that matter.