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I wake to an empty bed, Ryder’s side of the bed is cold, meaning he’s been gone awhile. My body is deliciously sore, and a vision of the two of us from last night flashes through my mind. Throwing the covers back and sliding my legs out, feet to the floor, I rest there a minute and try to sort through my scrambled thoughts.
Ryder took advantage of my reluctance to talk, my attempt to use sex as a distraction, but I can’t really be mad at him. If anything, I’m madder at myself. I just wanted to get lost in him, forget about the fact that my crazy ex is coming for me and knows where I am.
This morning there is no escaping the reality that he’s found me and will destroy anyone that stands in his way, and that scares me more than anything else.
The bastard knew exactly what he was doing when he sent those flowers to me. They are one of my most favourite flowers, he knows this because he had some planted at the house for me. But they also signify death. More specifically my death.
Sean once told me that when I die, he would cover my coffin in black lilies, and no other flower would be permitted at my funeral. I remember thinking how sweet that was at the time. But when he covered our daughter’s coffin in them and warned me that if I didn’t produce an heir soon it would be me in the next coffin covered in black lilies, their beauty became just another way for Sean to hurt me.
Getting to my feet, I notice that my bag sits on the chair in the corner of the room. Desperately needing a shower, and hoping it will help to clear my mind, I riffle through till I find a pair of joggers and a tee before heading to Ryder’s en suite.
Ryder’s en suite is no ordinary bathroom. It’s almost as big as the bedroom, and the centre piece is a cast iron free-standing bath. It’s stunning.
In the centre of the far wall is a double walk-in shower, one has a rainfall shower head, and that’s where I head to. Placing my clothes on the counter before walking in and using the touch controls to turn it on. As the water pours over me, I realise that the water temperature is preset, and it’s bloody freezing. I laugh out loud at the thought of Ryder in here taking a cold shower, and then an image of him in here with water cascading down his ripped body and dick rock hard as he glides his hands up and down the shaft has my body heating with need. Damn. I’ll need a cold shower myself in a minute. Quickly shaking the vision from my mind, I adjust the temp and step into the spray.
Once I’ve washed, I brush my teeth with the new toothbrush I found in the cupboard below the sink. I couldn’t find mine in the bag Jamie packed for me, but I did find my hairbrush. Just as I’m about to open the bedroom door, it flies open, and there stands Ryder. I know before he even opens his mouth that something is seriously wrong.
“What is it, what’s happened?” I ask, as dread forms in my throat, and with his next words that ball of dread drops like a stone bringing me to my knees.
“It’s Jamie.”
No,No, No. Please be okay. I fucking knew this would happen! Why wasn’t anyone watching out for her? It’s a question that’s been plaguing me all the way to the hospital. I should have been there; it should have been me. And now, I’m sitting at the bedside of my only friend and praying to anyone that’ll listen to please just let her be all right.
Ryder told me in the car on the way here that someone broke into the house and Jamie had disturbed them. Apparently, she finished her shift early, otherwise nobody would have been there.
Jamie sustained a significant head injury, has a broken wrist and several other smaller injuries. They had to put her into an induced coma to give her time to heal after an MRI scan revealed some swelling around her brain. Her right hand is in a cast, and her face is barely recognisable. I’ve been sat at her side, for god knows how long, with her good hand in mine as tears quietly slip down my face.
I hear the swoosh of the ICU doors and squeaky shoes on that dreadful hospital lino, and as the squeaky shoe owner draws nearer there’s an audible gasp. I look up to find Jamie’s parents have arrived. Jamie’s mum, Louise, has her hands clamped over her mouth and tears stream from her eyes, the utter devastation at seeing her daughter this way is almost her undoing.
Dominic, Jamie’s father stands behind Louise, one hand resting on her shoulder, his face is a mask. Not an ounce of emotion crosses that man’s face, it must be a military thing. Jamie told me her dad was in the army, and it’s the same expression I’ve seen Ryder wear. My dad was the same too.
I go to stand, but Louise rushes to my side, her hand on my shoulder stopping me. Dominic brings a chair for her, and she sits next to me, holding my hand in comfort while I hold her daughter’s. The gesture brings a new form of torture to my heart. If she only knew that this is all my fault, she’d have me thrown out. I know I would. I know the unimaginable pain of losing a child, and I remember how I felt about the truck driver that took the most precious thing in the world to me.
If I could have had five minutes, just five minutes with that man, I would have made him suffer. I would have taken great pleasure in seeing the pain in his eyes as I broke him. I didn’t even get to see him get the justice of going to prison. When the police finally tracked him down, he was dead. Sean told me that he hung himself, but I remember reading in the paper that he had a single gunshot wound to the head. Not sure why he would lie, but why does a psycho do anything they do.
I hear Ryder and Dominic talking, but I’m not really paying attention. I need to get out of this room. My guilt is slowly eating away at me, and I can feel my anxiety creeping closer every minute I sit here. A fraud. A liar. A curse. Death. Everyone I love dies. I’m like the man with the golden touch, except mine brings death and destruction.
I stand abruptly, the chair almost toppling over with the force, a muttered apology leaves my lips as I race for the door. I don’t stop running until I burst through the exit. Bent at the waist, hands on my knees, I take in deep lungful’s of air hoping to expel this soul deep pain and guilt inside of me. I hear Ryder call my name, but I don’t think, I just run.
My legs carry me across the car park, but I’m not looking where I’m going, so I don’t see the car until it’s almost on top of me. I’m hit from behind, slamming into the ground with a thud and then rolled over, strong arms wrapped around me. I start fighting, my adrenaline taking over, kicking my legs, fists flying but hitting nothing but air.
“Cam—oomph, fuck! It’s me, Cam, stop fucking fighting.”
Slowly, Ryder’s deep smooth voice penetrates my fried brain and I still. After a few minutes I say, “Let me up, Ryder.” He doesn’t let go. “Get the fuck off me!” I scream at him. He releases me, and I immediately scramble to my feet. “What the actual fuck?” I shout, spinning round to see him climbing to his feet too. I stomp towards him, thrusting my palms into his chest. “What the hell is wrong with you, why’d you do that?” He just fucking stands there, hands at his sides. I go at him again, this time managing to push him back a step, but as I go to slam him a third time, his hands come up catching my wrists.
“Stop! Just fucking calm down,” he grits out. The grip on my wrists tightens, almost to the point of pain, and somehow, it’s enough to calm me momentarily. But then I register what he said, why we are here, that my friend is laying in a hospital bed, and I see red.
Yanking my wrists from him, my eyes narrow, and I get right up in his face. “Calm down? Are you fucking insane? Calm down, huh. My friend almost died because of me and you want me to calm the fuck down. Pfft. Yeah, ‘cause that’s gonna help the situation, that’s gonna turn back time so that I didn’t bring all this shit to Jamie’s door. That’s going to change the fact that some fucked up, naive, weak, broken girl, who doesn’t deserve to even be a-fucking-live didn’t come in and fuck her life up too.” Ryder’s hands ball into fists at his side, what the fuck has he got to be so angry about?
“You don’t get to stand there and tell me to calm down, you know fuck all about me, or how I feel. Do you have any idea what it’s like to feel such overwhelming guilt, to look at your hands and see the blood of the people you love? No, I don’t think you have the first fucking idea how I feel.” I watch him for some reaction. His eyes harden as he watches me, waiting. So, I give him what he’s obviously waiting for, I mean, I’m already showing my crazy, shouting and screaming in the street like a fucking escaped psychopath, why not go all the way, right?
“Why the hell wasn’t there someone watching her? You can’t tell me that the stick shoved so firmly up your arse didn’t ensure you put security on her. I told you that he’d come after anyone to get to me. That should be me in that hospital bed, not her, Ryder. Not her!” I shout at him, and then heave a sigh, my shoulders slumping as the fight leaves me, replaced by the guilt and fear again.
I sink to the ground, my head in my hands, as the gravel pierces my knees like the pain that’s stabbing through my heart. This position is where I belong, on my knees, wrecked and broken, heart in tatters. I don’t deserve the kindness and love Jamie and her family bestowed upon me, or the safety and protection that Rick and Ryder have given me with nothing in return. This? This right here, is where I should be. And when Sean gets his property back, and he fucking will, I’ll be six feet under, and if by some miracle I’m not, I’ll wish I fucking was.
The utter despair, loss and guilt from Faye’s death has returned tenfold for the pound of flesh my escape denied it of. The tears fall and I don’t give a flying fuck as sobs wrack my body, tearing and ripping through the walls I tried to erect like a knife through butter. Just another reminder of how weak I really am. Another reminder of how completely and utterly worthless I really am.
“Are you finished with your little pity party for one?” Ryder asks, my head snaps up to see him standing there with his hands on his hips, hard eyes narrowed at me. I’m so shocked I just stare at him. “You talk about guilt like you own the fucking monopoly on it but let me tell you something. You fucking don’t, Camryn. You think you can stand there and tell me I don’t know how you feel, and that I don’t have blood on my hands too. I have more than you’ll ever have. I carry the guilt of my brother’s death every day, I carry his blood on my hands because I should have been there, not fighting a war.
