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There’s a pause. “Cole,” Ryan states flatly.
“Long time no talk,” Cole snarls back.
I can't help but hold my breath, my entire being fixated on the conversation unfolding before me. The absurdity of this situation weighs on my mind, threatening to break the fragile thread of composure I cling to. How the hell did I get caught up in this?
“Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it, Cole—”
"I have Amber Schaprio hostage, and if you want her back, I advise you to arrange five hundred big ones before six tonight," Cole casually states, his gaze squarely staring at the blank wall across the room.
Ryan's end of the line goes quiet, a heavy pause hanging in the air before an eruption of laughter bursts through the phone. The sound grates against my nerves. Does he think this is a joke? Does he not comprehend the seriousness of the situation? The realization that I’m nothing more than a pawn in this dangerous game fuels a surge of anger within me.
"Amber? Is this a prank? Look, I'm sorry I cheated on you... It was a mistake. I deleted that photo with her from Instagram. Baby, I…" Ryan's voice trails off, his words stumbling over each other in an attempt to rectify a situation he clearly misunderstands.
In an instant, I shoot up from the couch, and snatch the phone from Cole's grip, ignoring his glare as my voice erupts into the receiver. "Can you shut the fuck up and listen for once, please?"
Cole's anger flashes across his face as he reclaims the phone, snatching it back from my grasp. "Ryan, it's me," Cole speaks again.
The room descends into silence once more.
Ryan’s sigh on the other end of the line is so loud even I hear it. "I suppose you're acting as my karma now, he mumbles, his once lively tone now replaced with a somberness that strangely tugs at my heart. “I'll arrange the money and get back to you."
He hangs up and for long seconds Cole doesn’t move. Then he slowly, almost as if he’s thinking through each move, lowers his hand. He doesn’t look at me as he turns away.
“Now, we wait.”
Chapter7
Cole
Ryan Golding is a lot of things, and selfishness seems to be the height of it.
After the call, Amber keeps her distance throughout the evening. I observe her from afar, allowing her the space she needs. She moves through the living room, eating, listlessly flicking through TV channels, not looking tense, but not quite relaxed, either.
Guilt tugs at my insides that I’m the reason she’s trapped here. Despite what our bodies say, she no doubt hates me. And I can’t blame her. As I sit at the small dining table, the cell phone in front of me, I assure myself the only thing that matters is securing the money for my sister's hospital bills.
After that, Amber can leave.
I clench my hand, glaring at the blank screen. I won’t stop her. I’ll let her go.
Amber shifts on the lounge, glancing over at me with apprehension shifting through her green eyes as she glances at the clock above me.
"Anything?"
It’s not the first time she’s asked the question. And the answer isn’t going to be any different.
I meet her gaze with a heavy heart and offer a simple, but honest response, "No."
There’s only an hour to go. The deadline is looming.
“It's not a small amount,” I offer. “I'm sure even Ryan would need time to arrange it.”
Amber frowns as she looks back to the TV, her gaze unfocused as she bites her lip. She knows just as I do that Ryan should have arranged the money by now.
The bastard is probably fucking with us, but the possibility that Ryan wouldn’t pay never occurred to me. What that means for Cheryl and her care pierces me, but it’s Amber who I move toward. Her sadness that tugs at my heart.
"Would you like to watch another movie?" I ask, my right hand absentmindedly scratching the back of my neck. I can't bring myself to meet her down-turned eyes, averting my gaze instead. "With me?" I add.
Amber nods in response to my suggestion, and I can’t help the small leap in my chest. I settle down next to her on the couch, keeping a few inches between us. It's then that I register her cell phone balancing on the edge of the couch, forgotten by me. Has she noticed it before or did she simply choose to ignore it?
