Page 84 of One Spicy Summer

Rygaard

Sitting back in my office, I let the past few days hammer into me, a storm I can’t outrun. A wave of something close to happiness, tainted but real, washes over me.

Presley's been locked inside a hospital room since she woke up six long weeks ago, but they’re finally getting ready to kick her loose. She’s got a brutal road ahead of her, recovering from ashattered leg, half a dozen other injuries, and the hell of kicking an almost eight-year drug addiction.

The first time I laid eyes on her in that hospital bed, I knew. The way she twitched. How hollow her face looked with her eyes closed. She was fighting something bigger than broken bones. And knowing Keifer was the one who shoved her down that dark hole... It makes my blood rumble, like a goddamn volcano ready to blow.

She hadn’t even finished telling me her story when I felt my hands start to shake, violent tremors I hadn't felt in a decade.Back then, she was my anchor. My calm. And somehow, even now, battered and broken, she reached for me.

"Ry?" Her voice, weak but determined, clawed its way through the haze. A single finger brushed my arm, the only part of her she could move. “Come back to me,” she whispered, a ghost of the girl who once made me believe the world wasn’t complete shit.

God, I missed that voice.That pull she had on me, stronger than chains, sharper than knives. “Princess?” I croaked, barely finding my own voice.

She smiled, so damn fragile from the hospital bed that monster put her in. “Yes, it’s me.” Her voice always had the power to reel me back in from the edge.

“I swear to God, Presley,” I gritted out, “he’s a dead man.”

She just nodded, eyes full of a clear, sharp understanding. No fear. No hesitation. "I want you to make him pay for everything he’s done to us," she said, her thumb tracing tiny circles on my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“It’ll be my fucking pleasure,” I promised, my voice low and deadly.

She smiled again, tired, bruised, beautiful, and closed her eyes. “I need to rest now, Ry…” she mumbled, turning away.“I don’t want you to see me like this. Not until I can be... me again."

“The girl I knew has always been there, Princess," I said, brushing a stray hair from her forehead. "You just need a little light to find your way out of the dark.”

She chuckled, a soft, broken thing. “Please. I look like shit and death rolled into one, twice removed.”

We both laughed. It felt real. Raw. Like maybe we still had a chance.

"Can we start over?" I asked, hope gnawing at my insides.

She bit her lip, a familiar defense. "I don’t think that’s smart. We're not who we used to be. I have to fix myself first. Rehab times three."

"Three?"

"Yeah," she said, voice dry. "Leg. Drugs. Sex."

"Sex?" I raised a brow.

"There’s a reason I hopped from man to man..." she started, but I cut her off with a raised hand.

"No need. I remember exactly how fucking insatiable you were." A smile tugged at her lips, but it didn’t touch her eyes. "It’ll take time," she said. "I’m not giving up," I shot back. "I didn’t back then, and I sure as hell won’t now. Let me make it right."

I studied her, really studied her.Even bruised and battered, she was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

Her big brown eyes locked on mine, desperate for me to stay, desperate for me to leave.Torn.

"I need time, Ry," she said, voice a blade sliding under my skin. "Nothing’s the same. Get that through your thick skull, or this’ll never work."

"This isn’t over," I told her, standing my ground. "You think you need space? Fine. But you’ve had eight goddamn years. I’m not going anywhere."

I pulled up a chair and plopped down, yanking out my phone like I lived there now.

"What are you doing?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

"Making myself comfortable. You're stuck with me, Princess. Choice isn't yours anymore."

She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "asshole," but I just grinned.

---