45
RYAN
This isn’t the kind of pain you fix with ice or painkillers
The drive home is a blur. One of my hands is on the wheel, the other is pressed against my ribs. I try to convince myself the pain is just from Jacob’s punch. That cheap, pointless hit before everything went to hell.
But that’s not it. This isn’t the kind of pain you fix with ice or painkillers. And no matter how many times I breathe in, it doesn’t loosen.
I just keep replaying what she said and it makes me grip the steering wheel harder.
I don’t feel anything.
Streetlights drag across the windshield as I turn onto my street. I pull into the driveway and force myself out of the car to walk to the front door. As I step inside I notice the house is mostly dark. Thank God. Everyone’s already asleep. Exactly what I need.
I take a couple steps towards the stairs, careful not to make noise, planning to go straight upstairs and pretend today never happened.
“Ryan?”
Mom’s voice drifts from the couch. I stop dead, then slowly turn towards her. She’s leaning forward, a book still open in her hands, glasses sliding slightly down her nose.
I straighten a little. “Hey, Mom.”
She gives me a small smile. “Did you have fun at the bonfire?”
“Uh… yeah. It was fine.”
“Good.”
A quiet beat passes.
“Why are you still up?” I ask, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck. “Thought you’d be asleep.”
She shrugs lightly. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d read until I got tired.”
I nod. And she narrows her eyes, moving over my face. Her expression changes instantly. “Ryan… what happened to your face?”
Shit.
My hand lifts automatically, like it’s just a tiny scratch on my cheek. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” She sets the book down and stands, concern tightening her voice. “Ryan—”
“Mom.” I close my eyes for a second, my voice coming out soft. “Can you drop it, please? I just… want to go to bed.”
She watches me quietly, but after a moment, she nods.
“Okay,” she says softly. “Just come to me when you need anything okay?”
I give her a tight nod and turn toward the stairs. Every breath pulls against the bruises Jacob left behind, sharp and hot under my ribs. Fucking asshole. He has some balls trying to touch her again.
My jaw tightens as I reach the top of the stairs and a door creaks open. Bailey steps into the hallway, hair a mess, phone glowing in her hand. “Oh my God, Ry, I just saw a video that you hit Jac—”
I clap a hand over her mouth instantly. “Shh—shh. Mom can’t know.”
Her eyes go wide and she yanks my hand away.
“What the hell happened? Isn’t that Maddy’s ex?” She whisper-yells.
