That kid just recognized Ryder. Called him a pro. I’m no idiot—I know what sponsorships are—but when Carter said the mountain sponsored Ryder, I thought that was some sort of charitable thing. Supporting the local drunk guy to get the help he needs, if you will. But this… You don’t get recognized by tourists if you’re the token local guy getting help from the mountain.
Ryder must be a big deal.Huge. No wonder Carter didn’t want him acting as a janitor.
I chance another look at him, hunched over the counter, and what I didn’t want to acknowledge before is suddenly blindingly obvious. There’s a profound emptiness under his aloof exterior. Pain. He’s lost in there, and he’d rather play the asshole than let anyone see it.
There was never any question Ryder was going through something, but he does such a good job of hating everything and everyone I naïvely assumed he was blowing things out of proportion. That his anger was some childish attempt to blame others for his problems, and as far as what those problems were... Hell, even after Carter implied riding might be a life-or-death situation for Ryder, I took that with a grain of salt. I convinced myself he had the yips or was buckling under pressure,or some other shit that he likely brought on himself. I didn’t think the arrogant, indifferent jackass was in pain, or that Carter’s interference mightactuallybe the thing that saves him.
I am a horrible person.
Admittedly, my skill is in addressing physical challenges, not mental ones, but I still let Ryder’s attitude cloud my perception of him, and even though I knew something deeper was at play I dismissed it as something he probably deserved since he was such a jerk. I willfully ignored someone who needed help, which goes against everything I believe in.
The realization makes me queasy. But as I risk a peek at the man next to me, still bent over the counter breathing shakily, it also gives me butterflies.
No. Bad idea.Physically impaired and emotionally broken are not the same thing. You’re only trained to help one—do not develop a soft spot for the other.
I may not be trained to help with emotional issues, but physical activity often helps with emotional distress, and that I can help with.
Absolutely not. The guy mayneedhelp, but also clearly doesn’twantit, and that’s a recipe for disaster.
I’m warring with myself, almost on the verge of being good and walking away, when Ryder abruptly rises, reaching for the clipboard and perusing its contents like he wasn’t just doubled over. It’s a stunning transformation, and one I can’t seem to look away from.
For a guy with a surly attitude, there’s this sort of natural grace to every movement he makes, even if it’s just a partial curve of his lip or shifting a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. It catches my eye every time, and given what I just learned about his career, it makes me think he must be mesmerizing on the mountain. I sort ofwant to see that, although I still can’t give him the green light until he shows me he can handle it.
Ryder sets the clipboard back on the counter and catches my eye with a little up nod, calling me to him, and damn if I don’t answer.
“What?” I force my tone to sound impatient to hide the fact I’m starting to see him differently.
“What’s the story with the kid? He’s limping.”
“Max lost his leg a few years ago.” I know what the next question will be, and for a brief moment, I consider sugar coating the answer since I just got a glimpse of the wrecked person inside Ryder’s prickly outer shell. Yet despite knowing what the answer will do to him, I can’t shy away from giving it. Not when it might help him see things clearly in the long run.
“How?” Ryder’s brows draw together.
“Drunk driver.”
What little color Ryder has on his face drains away, though I don’t regret not softening the blow. Whatever his demons, Ryder still put others at risk when he chose to drink instead of facing them, and that’s not something he deserves protection from. I can’t afford to show any empathy for that choice. Not if I want to protect the people in the center. Or my job. Even him, if we’re being honest. Which is why I hold the hard line I’ve been standing on since day one.
“Now, do you see why I need you sober while you’re here? I may be stuck with you but that doesn’t mean I’m going to break my rules so you can… Oh, what was it you said? So you can get through your hours and get out?”
I’m expecting some sort of smart-ass retort, something to mask that fact he’s affected since I now know that’s his M.O. Instead, he gives me a curt nod, an acknowledgment I think, and for the first time since he walked through the door, the wall I erected between us starts to crack.
Dammit.
***
I stay holed up in my office the rest of the day, not hiding per se, but deliberately avoiding Ryder.
My initial impression of him was a comfortable one for me, and I’m not sure how to feel now that it’s been called into question. Not that I’m magically okay sending him out with clients—I meant what I said about not breaking my rules for him—but now that I know the rough outside is a carefully crafted mask to hide what’s happening inside, I’m less inclined to treat him like the asshole he pretends to be.
Why he perpetuates that ruse I still don’t know. It’s not unusual though, in my experience. I’ve seen lots of people come through these programs who act like jerks and push people away to disguise the fact that they’re angry or scared about their circumstances. I even pegged Ryder as doing the same thing, just not for the same reasons. Little did I know those reasons must cut pretty deep to have the aloof jerk doubled over in emotional pain.
Yeah, whatever ails him is something you can’t see with the naked eye, and that has me concerned. Not only because it makes me inclined to be empathetic towards him when I need to treat him like every other instructor, but because I have no idea how deep his pain runs, or whether it’s something he can overcome.
Carter staunchly believes putting him on the mountain will fix whatever is broken. I’m not so convinced, but knowing how important riding is—or was—to him makes me more open to that suggestion. Which means, if he can stay sober, I’ll put him on the mountain like Carter wants.
I’m buried in marketing initiatives, a task that effectively keeps my focus off Ryder, when I hear the bell from the reception desk. Assuming that means my charge has taken off for the day, I make my way into the lobby and find Mr. and Mrs. Delvy waiting patiently at the counter without their son Max, who should be done with his lesson right about now.I hope everything’s okay.
“Hi.” I paste a cheery grin on my face. “How can I help you?”
