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“Watch it!” Ryder snapped.
“I chose you over my own mother! I chose you, and that doesn’t give you the right to fall the fuck apart! I chose you, and you have to live!”
I wiped the tears from my eyes angrily. “Fuck you, Tommy. I didn’t ask you to save me.”
He gave a snort of disdain. “You’re right. I should’ve let you get eaten by my mother. At least then she’d still be alive.”
His face smoothed over a second before his expression shattered. It was then that I saw it - saw the moment where he realized what he had done - and my stomach twisted almost painfully. On his young face, his anguished expression made him look centuries older. We stared at each other, and I knew that the horror in his expression was reflected on mine.
There was no comparison to our pain, despite what people may believe. You couldn’t possibly look at someone and deem that their pain was somehow less than yours. That isn’t how pain works.
It was in that grocery store, in the medicine aisle, where we eventually broke down. I was distantly aware of Ryder holding me in his arms, my face in his neck and my tears wetting his dark shirt. Fallon must’ve come - no doubt hearing our blubbering - but instantly left with whoever he came with. Nobody else bothered us after that, but I could feel the guys’ presence around me.
Always watchful. Always vigilant. It helped to know that they were near, though I didn’t know how to articulately express such a sentiment. All I could do was hold Ryder tighter and hope that I conveyed my thankfulness for him through that eloquent touch.
It was Tommy who stopped crying first. His chubby hand touched his cheek where his prominent scar protruded from his flesh.
“I have a scar,” he whispered. I grasped his hand and gave it a squeeze.
“So do I.”
* * *
We departedFreddy’s Supermarket more somber than we had arrived, a feat I didn’t think was possible. Nobody attempted to engage me in conversation, and for that I was grateful.
Tommy hadn’t stopped crying since his initial outburst. He curled into a ball in the backseat, nearly inaudible whimpers escaping him. None of the guys coddled him or sat near him, another thing I was thankful for. I knew Tommy would not want their pity or even their sympathy.
It was only after an hour on the road, Fallon expertly maneuvering the vehicle between cars and trucks that have been abandoned, when Calax broke the silence. He was sitting beside me, his hand on my thigh, and leaned closer so his words could only be heard by me and me alone.
“You okay, baby girl?” he asked softly. His hand was tantalizingly soft against my bare leg.
“Besides the fact that I had a complete mental breakdown, feel emotionally exhausted, and want to curl into a fetal position and cry myself to an early grave? Just peachy.”
His eyebrows furrowed, but he didn’t respond to my twisted perspective of life. All he could do was hold me tighter as if he never wanted to let me go.
Mof, in my lap, was getting antsy. I tried to recall the last time the cat had peed or even ate, but my mind came back blank. I had been a terrible owner. Fortunately for Mof, he had the guys looking after him, or else I’m pretty sure he would’ve been dead.
Speaking of bathroom breaks...
“Can we stop at the next rest area, please?” I called up to Fallon. The scary man in question met my gaze in the rear-view mirror and let out something that could probably be taken as a yes. It was a strange mixture between a grunt and a growl - Fallon speak, I called it. He had his own language.
We had barely grazed the Michigan border, so the rest area we stopped at was just as chilly as where we had come from. The sun had long since descended behind numerous trees leaving nothing but an icy wind.
Fallon had fortunately found a highway that hadn’t experienced the same pile-up that the previous one had. There were still abandoned cars, of course, but traffic moved surprisingly easy. According to Asher, who was on map duty, the new route put us a few hours behind schedule.
The rest area had only a few cars and a couple of trucks when we pulled up. I noted a family leaning against their bumper - a mom, a dad, and three children. My mind immediately went back to the house with the framed photographs, and I once again wondered what had become of that family. Either way, I was grateful for them for letting us use their house, despite their obliviousness.
“Thank the Lord!” Ryder said eagerly. I was pleased to see that he was gradually turning back into his old self. I adored the serious side of him, but there was something charming about his flirtatious half that I couldn’t ignore. “My butt was beginning to fall asleep.”
“Your butt can’t fall asleep,” I said absently, though I wasn’t entirely sure if that was true. It just seemed easier to tease Ryder than admit to him being right, even over something as insignificant as butts.
“All you have to do is look at my butt to see,” Ryder said, wiggling his eyebrows at me. “I hear little snores coming from my asshole.”
“Quit farting then,” I retorted.
He glared playfully at me, and I hadn’t realized how much I had missed him until that moment. He hadn’t been gone, necessarily, but he hadn’t been himself. I still didn’t fully understand what had happened during the highway attack, but I knew that he had been changed because of it.
I could only hope that the change was for the better, not the worst.
