Page 22 of Battered Moves

“Fuck, okay, so it’ll take me at least an hour to get to you. Get in the car with the doors locked and stay put.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you,” Liv whispers and Jaxon’s mood seems to improve dramatically.

“You’re welcome, sunshine. And Ryder…” He trails off, and I wince. “We’re going to talk about this whole situation on the drive back,” he warns before hanging up.

I close the hood and turn to Liv.

“Really?” I ask, my eyebrows rising. “You ran to Jaxon before I even told you what the problem is?”

“River told me to,” she replies, biting her lip. “He said that when there’s a problem with the car, I should call Jaxon before you have the chance to make it worse.”

I stare at her, blink, then start laughing out loud.

“Oh my god,” I exclaim, holding my stomach, which already hurts from my wheezing.

“Are you mad at me?” she asks, unsure.

I pull her to me and hug her before I sit her on the hood of the car.

“Of course I’m not mad at you. It’s just fucking hilarious how little faith River has in me, but then again, he’s right. He always tells me that I haven’t got enough self-worth or self-esteem, but look how little he trusts me, and he’s the person who knows me best,” I say sadly, putting my head on her forehead. “I’m so sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have put you in danger in that car. You deserve so much better.”

“Stop that, Ryder. You know that’s not how we see you,” she says. I step back with my arms wide and turn around in a circle.

“What is it then? Tell me, Liv. You’re sitting in the dark, in the middle of nowhere, because I can’t part from that junk car,” I say, kicking the bumper.

“Ryder, nothing happened. Jaxon will get us, and soon, we’ll laugh about it. You could even take it as inspiration and write your first song about it,” she suggests.

I grimace and look at the ground.

“What?” she asks me, jumping off the hood and standing in front of me. She lifts my chin, so I look in her eyes.

“I write a lot of songs, baby, but they’re just shit,” I confess.

“Oh really? Who says that? You?” she questions, and that pulls a smile from my lips.

“Since I never let anyone else hear them, yes,” I admit. She gives me a short peck and sits back on the hood.

“Well, try me,” she challenges, and my eyes widen.

“What do you mean?” I ask her. She crosses her arms under her chest, pushing up her perfect tits. My eyes linger for a second before I look back into her eyes.

“We’re out here in the middle of nowhere, it’s dark, and no one beside me will hear you. Try me. Sing me one of your songs. If it’s bad, I’ll tell you and you’ll know. If it’s good, I’ll tell you and you can be reassured enough to share with others,” she explains.

“You’re biased,” I say with a laugh. “You would tell me my songs are good just because you’re mine.” She shivers when I say this, and I step closer, putting my hands on her knees.

“No, Ryder. I was a performer. I made money by making dance videos and showing them to the world. There’s no love in telling you you’re good when you’re not. It might make you feel good right this second, but the feedback you’d get when you release it to the public would be much harsher on you than anything I could tell you. In this situation, tough love is real love. I’d tell you that your songs need more work and hurt your feelings a hundred times over to make sure nobody else with ill intentions is going to hurt you much worse later on.”

She reaches up and pushes my hair out of my eyes while I look at her in amazement. She knows how to get through to me. I take a deep breath and nod.

“Okay, I’ll sing you one of my songs,” I say, sitting beside her on the hood. “I wrote this for you, when you were gone.”

Her eyes widen, and she takes my hand, squeezing it, so I start to sing.

Baby, your beautiful smile lights up my world

It’s like sunshine on a cloudy day, unfurled

And your green eyes, they sparkle with life

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