13. She was His, Even If They were Broken

CHAPTER 13

She was His, Even If They were Broken

R yker had thought he'd already sustained the maximum amount of heartbreak one person could bear, but he was wrong. Sitting beside the hospital bed they'd brought into Waterborn House for his father, Ryker's heart broke all over again.

The aching hurt was different than the one he'd felt when Brynleigh betrayed him, but it was no less painful.

In the twelve hours since he first pulled up to his childhood home, Ryker had only left his father's side once. He'd ordered River to go to bed since she had another exam in the morning before moving Brynleigh from the hallway to his old room.

He told himself he didn't move her to be nice but to keep her out of the way when the servants came to clean in the morning. He was lying, but it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered right now except the broken, aging fae beside him.

How had Cyrus Jacob Waterborn been reduced to this shell of a man? Skin so pale it was nearly translucent clung to his skeletal frame. Blue, almost purple, veins stood out against his flesh. Brown, wispy hair remained on his head, far thinner than it used to be. An aura of illness permeated the room .

Tears pricked Ryker's eyes, and he scrubbed a hand over his face. Rough stubble scratched his palm. He needed to shower and shave, but he didn't want to leave his father's side.

Before the Stillness struck, Ryker's father was one of the most powerful water fae in the entire Republic of Balance. Life and vitality used to flow from him like water from a fountain. He'd always been the center of attention, and people were drawn to him. He'd been a torch in a room full of candles.

Now, Cyrus's light had faded to a mere flicker.

Ryker dreaded the day his father's flame would be snuffed entirely.

Reaching out, he picked up his father's hand. Fingers that had once taught him how to hold a softball properly were now brittle and covered in strange brown spots.

"Dad?" Ryker murmured. "Can you hear me?"

There was no response, just like the last dozen times he'd asked.

Cyrus's light brown eyes were open, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Ryker sighed, and his heart broke a little bit more. "I'm here, Dad. I came back."

He shouldn't have stayed away for so long. What if his father had died while he'd been dealing with Brynleigh? Ryker would have never forgiven himself.

A soft knock came from the door, pulling Ryker from his melancholy thoughts.

"Captain Waterborn?" asked a soft female voice.

Ryker didn't release his father's hand as he looked over his shoulder. "Yes?"

A human nurse stood in the doorway. She looked around River's age. Curly blonde hair was swept in a ponytail, and she wore cheerful blue scrubs that somehow made Ryker feel even worse.

"It's time to administer your father's medication."

Most fae afflicted by the Stillness required round-the-clock care, and Cyrus was no different. Tertia refused to put her husband in a residence and instead paid for in-home care. The last time someone had dared suggest that Cyrus might be better off in a medical facility, Tertia verbally eviscerated them. Often, she showed little emotion, but Ryker knew the love his parents had for each other was as vast as the Emerald Sea.

He dipped his chin in the nurse's direction. "Can I stay?"

The last thing he wanted to do was leave his father right now.

A small, understanding smile tugged at the nurse's lips. Her blue eyes were kind, and she nodded.

"Of course. I'm Megan, by the way." She glanced at Ryker's hand, which had tightened around his father's. "I'm sure he knows you're here."

Did he? Ryker wasn't so sure about that. He hadn't seen a flicker of life in Cyrus's eyes since his vigil had begun.

Guilt was a heavy ball of lead in Ryker's stomach. He should have checked on his father since the wedding, but he'd been a gods-damned coward. He hadn't wanted to answer the questions that would have been thrown his way if he had shown up without Brynleigh.

That his mother knew what happened was bad enough, but Ryker didn't want River to discover the truth. He didn't want his sister to look at him like he'd made a mistake. He was supposed to protect her and be there to fix her problems, and if she knew the truth…

Ryker couldn't bear to disappoint his sister or add another burden to her plate. Not when their father was slipping away more with each passing day.

Megan moved methodically through the room, opening drawers and gathering various implements. She withdrew several clear bottles and two empty syringes from a locked medicine cabinet, the key dangling from a cord around her wrist. She laid out her equipment, preparing the medication with steady, sure hands.

"What are you giving him?" Ryker asked after the nurse filled the first needle.

She flicked the top, a small bead of liquid forming over the tip, and moved to the other side of the bed.

"It's a cocktail of drugs." She rattled off their scientific names. The terms went over Ryker's head, but he was certain River would know what they were. That was the benefit of having a sister who was in medical school. He made a mental note to ask her about them later.

"And these should help?" he clarified.

"Yes. After yesterday, we're modifying them slightly. Hopefully, this will slow the Stillness, if not halt its progress altogether. Theoretically, he should be more alert in a day or two."

Hope .

What a fickle, fickle thing. Almost as fickle as the gods River prayed to each day. What good were prayers and hope when their father was still wasting away?

No, Cyrus didn't need hope. He needed medicine, healing, and science.

After a few minutes, Megan stepped back. She gathered her things and dipped her head in Ryker's direction. "I'm almost done."

She placed the used needles in a yellow bin and moved through the room, jotting down several numbers on a clipboard before returning it to the foot of the bed.

Ryker squeezed his father's hand and met the nurse's gaze. "How is he, really?"

Pity flickered across the nurse's face. "He's stable, for now."

Those last ominous words twisted his stomach.

"Have you ever seen someone return from the Stillness?"

Her mouth pinched in a line, and she shook her head before adding, "I'm sorry, no."

He had expected her answer. They had consulted dozens of experts when Cyrus first fell ill. But it still hurt to hear.

Megan gave him a polite smile and pointed to a red button on the wall near the door. "I'll leave you two alone. Just hit that if you need me, and I'll be right in. "

"Thank you." Ryker's chest was tight. "Is there anything I can do?"

He hated sitting by helplessly, watching his father waste away. He was the one people went to when they had problems, and he wasn't used to feeling like there was nothing he could do.

"You should try to talk to him. Sometimes it makes a difference."

Ryker thanked the nurse, and she slipped out the door, closing it behind her.

Talk .

Such a simple action, but right now, it felt like all his words were lightyears away.

Death was inching closer to his father, ready to steal its prize.

Ryker's chest burned at the thought. His eyes stung, and he shut them, forcing the tears to remain in place. He would not cry. His father needed him to be strong, to hold everything together.

But Ryker didn't feel strong. He didn't feel like the protector he was supposed to be. He felt broken, hurt, and on the verge of tumbling into a pit of despair. Things with Brynleigh were so gods-damned complicated, and he wished more than anything that his father could give him advice.

Cyrus couldn't die. Ryker wasn't ready. None of them were ready. How did one navigate life without their beloved parent by their side?

A millstone pressed down on his chest. Every breath hurt, every second ached, and everything was wrong.

The Stillness was threatening to tear his family apart from the inside out.

Somehow, Ryker needed to hold the pieces together and help them survive this. Even if it broke him, he would do everything he could to keep his family intact. Tertia was difficult, but she was still his mother. And River was his only sister. He loved them both deeply, and he would do anything for them.

Anything and everything.

Just like Brynleigh had done everything for her family .

Fuck.

Ryker sucked in a sharp breath, and understanding crashed into him like an anvil dropping on his head.

He groaned, his stomach twisting painfully. His heart was a mallet, battering his ribs. His blood chilled, and his magic whirled as his control slipped for a single second.

"Oh, gods."

How could Ryker not have seen this before? How had he been so fucking ignorant?

It was like a veil had shrouded his sight, and now it had been burned away. He saw everything from a different perspective. By the Blessed Black Sands, it hurt more than anything he'd ever experienced.

He might not have summoned the storm, but those lives had been lost because of his family.

Pressing a fist against his heart, Ryker tried to ease the burn that felt like it would destroy him from the inside out.

For weeks, he had wondered how Brynleigh could do this to him. How could she betray him and make her love him for something as simple as revenge?

But now…

Gods above, it all made sense.

It wasn't that Ryker had ignored the devastating losses and deaths River had caused in Chavin. He'd grieved for those lives far more than any deaths he'd personally caused on the battlefield. But the people of Chavin had been far away and faceless, while River's pain was right in front of him.

Not anymore.

Now, every time Ryker thought of that night, Brynleigh's face flashed before his eyes. His imagination ran wild, filling his mind with her terrified screams as everyone around her died.

Ryker bent in half, feeling like a truck had run over him.

"I understand," he whispered, his voice as broken as his heart. "I fucking understand."

Those damned tears returned, and this time, he let them fall. Burning trails of hurt and pain, they tumbled down his cheeks, echoing the churning grief inside him.

If someone hurt River, Ryker would burn the world for her. Nothing would stand in his way. No one would stop him. His reaction would make the way they'd dealt with the Incident seem like child's play. There would be no boundaries, no rules.

Family above all else.

And Brynleigh had been doing the same thing.

What the fuck was Ryker supposed to do with this information? The situation with his wife wasn't black and white. Shades of gray coated their entire relationship.

Nothing was easy. Nothing was simple.

Ryker groaned, the mangled sound too loud in this small room. He rubbed his temples, his shoulders tight as he slumped forward.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed like that before a beeping drew him from his thoughts.

Pulling his head out of his hands, he gazed upon his father.

Megan's words echoed through Ryker's mind.

Talk to him.

Now, at least, he had something to say. Ryker scooted closer, his knees rubbing against the side of the mattress. He pressed his forehead against his father's cold, translucent palm.

"Dad, I… I don't know what to do," he whispered. His voice cracked on the last word.

Ryker hated admitting a weakness, even to his unconscious father, but this problem was larger than him. He didn't even know if it could be solved.

Cyrus didn't stir. The only sound was the slight whirring of the machine monitoring his heart rate.

"Things have been… difficult," Ryker admitted. "With the Choosing… and with my wife, Brynleigh."

Still no response.

He closed his eyes and blew out a long breath. In a low voice, he told his father about everything that had happened since the wedding.

Ryker skipped over certain details—he would rather die before sharing details of his sex life with his family—but he laid the rest out as plainly as he could. The shifter's arrival, Brynleigh's reaction to him, her pleas, the shooting, and the pain Ryker felt after, knowing she'd betrayed him.

He didn't stop there.

He shared about the agony, heartbreak, and pain that had been his only companion for days. The hurt he'd felt at Brynleigh's betrayal. How he'd found her in The Pit and heard her confession. And the more recent events. Jelisette de la Point. The deal. The Rosewood.

"The thing is, I… I understand ." Ryker opened his eyes and stared at his father's immobile form. "Her motives make sense, in a dark way, but I don't know if understanding why she did this is enough. I loved her with all my heart, Dad." If the ache in his chest was any sign, maybe he still did. But he didn't know what to do with that information. "And now…"

What did people do with broken hearts? How could pain like this be mended?

Their problems weren't one-sided. Ryker was self-aware enough to acknowledge that he wasn't fucking perfect.

But…

The door creaked behind Ryker, and he jolted. Dropping his father's hand, he twisted around.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Brynleigh stood in the doorway, her wide black eyes staring at him. "I knocked several times, but you didn't hear me."

She was still wearing the same sweater from yesterday. She twisted her hands, the black sleeves falling to her fingertips. The uncertainty in her voice made his heart hurt, and despite everything that lay between them, he wanted to gather her in his arms.

But he didn't.

The brokenness of their relationship was like a canyon stretching between them. He wasn't sure they could ever close the divide.

Ryker stood, and his fingers flexed at his sides. They itched to touch her.

"What do you need?" he asked softly.

A frown pulled at Brynleigh's lips, and a line marred her forehead. "It's almost dusk, and I have to go to Jelisette's tonight."

The debrief.

With everything that had happened with his father, Ryker had forgotten all about it. He hadn't even realized an entire day had passed.

"Oh."

Brynleigh worried her lip. She'd been doing that a lot since he rescued her.

"I'll need to leave soon. Jelisette doesn't like it when people are late." Pain flashed across Brynleigh's face, a whisper of hurt that had Ryker wanting to punch Jelisette.

"I understand." His gaze swept over Brynleigh, cataloging the paleness of her skin, the darkness in her eyes, and the way her fingers tapped nervously against her leg. "Are you hungry?"

Relief flashed through those black orbs.

"Yes," Brynleigh breathed. "I wasn't sure… Is there…"

"There should be blood in the kitchen." He'd made his mother promise to keep some stocked before he married Brynleigh.

Back when giving her the sun and providing blood were their biggest problems. Things had changed, but hopefully, the blood would still be there. If not, he'd figure something out. "I'll take you."

Walking on quiet fae feet, Ryker slipped the door shut behind him. He found the nurse in a room down the hall, letting her know they'd be downstairs.

Brynleigh trailed him through the corridors of Waterborn House. With every passing moment, that canyon between them yawned. By the time they arrived in the kitchen, crossing the divide felt almost insurmountable .

But Ryker had to try. He couldn't let things remain the way they were.

He flicked on the kitchen light.

This had always been his favorite room in the house. Despite the industrial appliances and enormous double fridge that belonged in a restaurant, the kitchen had a homey feel that most of Waterborn House lacked. An enormous island stretched across the length of the room, white cabinets covered the walls, and usually, open windows overlooked the garden. Now, they were covered in black drapes.

Ryker pulled out a stool for Brynleigh, waiting for her to slip onto it before he strode over to the fridge. Tucked behind a row of condiments, as if someone had tried to hide them, were several bags of blood.

He reached inside, gently maneuvering around the glass bottles and jars. "Warm or cold?"

"Warm," was her whispered reply.

Ryker nodded, shutting the fridge. Even though years had passed since he had last lived here, the kitchen layout was exactly the same. He located a mug and scissors with ease.

He worked silently, pouring the blood into a cup and heating it in the microwave. A coppery tang filled the air, mingling with the lemon-scented cleaner his mother preferred.

The whirring of the microwave was the backdrop to Ryker's spinning thoughts. He couldn't wait for the divide between him and Brynleigh to miraculously repair itself.

First of all, it didn't seem possible. Secondly, and more importantly, if he'd learned one thing from watching his father slowly Fade from the Stillness, it was that time was precious.

He refused to wait for the "right moment" because they were rare.

He would make his own moments happen.

The microwave beeped, and Ryker bent, pulling out the cup. Iron tickled his nostrils, and he slid the mug across the island .

He rested his forearms on the counter. "Let me know if it's warm enough."

Brynleigh flashed him a soft smile, raising the cup to her lips. She sipped it slowly before taking a larger swallow. "It's perfect. Thank you, Ryker."

He wasn't sure if it was the smile or the gentle way she spoke his name, but his chest warmed.

When he searched within himself for the anger that had been his companion for days, he didn't find it. Its absence confirmed he was taking the right course of action, emboldening him.

Still leaning against the island, Ryker reached across the counter and captured Brynleigh's fingers in his.

Sparks ran through him at the touch, and she didn't pull away.

That seemed like a good sign, so he repeated the words he'd whispered to her last night when he brought her to bed.

"I want to fix us, Brynleigh."