28. Ridley

28

RIDLEY

The sounds of birds chirping infiltrated my slumber, a sleep I wanted nothing but to sink deeper into. But I let my eyelids flutter open, taking in my surroundings. I expected to see the sides of my pop-up tent on the van, but instead I was greeted by nothing but water, trees, and sunlight.

Everything came back to me in flashes. The attack. The hospital. Colt.

As if just thinking his name conjured him, my gaze locked on the man in the chair. His broad frame was far too large for the seat, which looked like it would be more appropriate for dropping your jacket and purse. He curled slightly to the side, using his arm for a pillow. His face was completely relaxed in sleep, and I couldn’t help but stare.

At the way each exhale made his dark lashes flutter. How his thick scruff was now more of a beard. The haphazard array his nearly raven hair made.

He was beautiful. But it was more than something physical. Colter Brooks was beautiful because of his actions. Stepping in for someone he wasn’t all that fond of just because she needed it. Giving that person a place to sleep. And staying just because she was a little jumpy.

Something shifted inside me, forgiveness breaking away at those final pieces of anger I was holding on to. Colt wasn’t perfect, but he was kind. His words might not always be the best, but his actions always were. And I’d take actions over pretty lies any day.

Tater stood, stretching out her spine and then leaping from the bed. She crossed slowly to Colt, sniffing the air as she went. Then her eyes locked on the hand that dangled by Colt’s side.

Panic washed through me. “Tater, don’t,” I whisper-hissed.

But it was too late. Her little teeth came down hard on those too-tempting fingers.

Colt jolted awake on a curse, wrenching his hand free as he jerked upright. “What the hell?” His gaze went from Tater to me. “Just a tooth hug, right?”

I winced. “Sorry about that.”

He shook his head and rubbed at his hand. “How do you feel?”

Memories swept through my mind of Colt waking me up during the night and asking me simple questions like my name and birthday. “Better than I should,” I said honestly. My neck and side were tender, but my throat felt a million times better.

“Your voice is back to normal,” Colt said, his gaze roaming over me. And I had the sudden urge to right my hair, which I was sure looked like a rat’s nest. “How’s your head feel?”

I did a mental sweep. “Not bad. Low-grade headache.”

“You can take your pain meds after breakfast.”

“Bossy much?”

Colt just scowled at me. “You need to stay ahead of the pain, and if you take them on an empty stomach, you’ll probably barf them up.”

I threw back the covers and slowly sat, making sure my world didn’t spin. I felt like I’d taken a spill on my bike but not like I had a brain injury. That was good. I pushed to my feet. “I think I’ll be okay with Tylenol. And how about I make breakfast as a thank-you for letting Tater and me stay?”

That scowl only deepened to a glare. “You need to rest.”

“I need to move. If I don’t, my muscles will just lock up, and I’ll feel worse. Trust me, I know.”

Those deep-brown eyes flashed and then darkened to almost black. “You’ve been attacked before?” Colt growled.

Shit. Abort mission.

“No,” I hurried to say. “But I’ve fallen while mountain biking, been bucked off a surly horse, and taken a spill while white-water rafting. I know how to recover from mild to moderate injuries.”

A little of the rage in Colt’s expression eased, but not for long. “I wouldn’t exactly call being almost strangled to death mild or moderate.”

Memories flashed in my mind. The feel of the man’s hand around my throat, squeezing. Trying to fight him off with zero success.

“Shit,” Colt muttered, pushing to his feet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—”

“It’s okay.” I took a few steps, relieved when the room still didn’t spin. “Let me brush my teeth, and then I’ll make breakfast. Do you have food in this place?”

Colt eyed me carefully. “The basics. You going to poison me?”

I laughed, ignoring the pain along my ribs. “I solemnly swear not to poison you, Law Man. Even if you sometimes deserve it.”

It was his turn to chuckle. “All right. I’m going to jump in the shower. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”

“Okay.” I waited while Colt strode out of the room, images of him in the shower dancing in my head. Images I had zero right to but couldn’t seem to control. Letting out a long breath, I moved to the bathroom and made quick work of washing my face and brushing my teeth, trying to avoid glimpsing the angry bruises ringing my neck.

I couldn’t help but wonder who usually stayed in this guest room. Because it was, indeed, stocked. It had little travel bottles of face wash, lotion, toothpaste, and everything else you could dream up. I bet Colt had been a Boy Scout in his youth. Always prepared.

Looking for Tater, I found her scarfing down a bowl of dry food that Colt must’ve set up during the night. For not being the biggest fan of my cat, he was certainly taking good care of her. But I shouldn’t have been surprised. He was doing the same for me.

I slipped out the door and listened. The faint sounds of a shower came through the door next to mine. I swallowed hard as images of the man in that shower filled my mind. His tall, broad body filling the space. Water tracking over his defined chest and down to— nope , I wasn’t going there. I turned in the opposite direction, seeking out the kitchen. But the view kept stealing my focus. Every wall along the back of the house was dominated by windows, and as the sun glittered on the lake, I found myself getting lost in the art it created.

A large furry body pressed against my side, and I looked down, grinning. “Morning, Bowser.”

He simply gazed up at me adoringly.

I gave his head a scratch. “All right. Let’s go make some breakfast.”

I found the kitchen and began searching the cupboards, pantry, and fridge. Colt’s kitchen wasn’t what you’d call stocked , but there were enough things to put together a decent breakfast. I lost myself in the prep work. The chopping and sautéing, cleaning as I went. You got used to that sort of routine in the van.

It wasn’t long before I slid my creation into a preheated oven and poured myself a second cup of coffee.

“Smells amazing in here,” Colt said.

I turned and froze. I couldn’t help it. Colt rumpled from sleep was bad enough, but Colt freshly showered and shaved was devastating. The scruff wasn’t completely gone, thank goodness, just shorn back. But his hair looked almost black since it was still damp. And those brown eyes seemed to glow in the early morning light.

I tried to force my focus to stay on his face, not to dip to those shoulders and chest, but I couldn’t help it. That damn tan uniform shirt strained slightly over the curve of his shoulders. And that star glinted over planes of muscle.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Ridley?” he asked, that perfect brow furrowing.

“Sorry,” I croaked. “Coffee hasn’t kicked in yet apparently. Breakfast should be ready in five.”

“Thank you. You feeling okay being on your feet?”

My grip tightened on my mug as I took another sip. “I feel pretty good. Just a little sore.”

Colt studied me for another long moment, as if trying to tell if I was lying to him. “Okay. But don’t push it today. You need to take it easy.”

I made a humming noise that wasn’t exactly a yes. What I needed was to borrow a computer until I could get a new one, and log into my files saved in the cloud. Then go through all the paper files from the van and try to put together who the hell was doing this.

Colt crossed to the coffee maker. Pulling out a mug, he poured himself a cup, black of course. “Don’t think I missed how you didn’t exactly agree to that.”

A small chuckle slipped free. “I promise to rest if I feel I need it. How’s that?”

“You’d say you didn’t need it after hiking Everest,” he muttered.

That had me fighting a grin. Maybe the grumpy sheriff knew me better than I thought.

“So,” Colt went on. “What has my kitchen smelling better than it has in years?”

“It doesn’t really have a name, but it’s a greens and egg casserole.”

Colt’s face scrunched like he smelled something bad. “Greens?”

I turned to face him. “You had them in your freezer; you can’t tell me you don’t eat them.”

He shook his head. “I put them in a chocolate protein shake so I don’t have to taste them.”

It was my turn to be disgusted, which I demonstrated by gagging. “Chocolate and greens?”

“You don’t taste the slimy green stuff,” Colt defended.

“Well, try it this way. I think you’ll like it better.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Are you some sort of health nut? One of those vegans who eats nut cheese?”

I choked on a laugh. “Since I said it’s an egg casserole, I think you’re safe from nut cheese. But there are a few good kinds.”

Colt gave an exaggerated shiver. “No, thank you.”

“After you live on fast food and vending machines for six months, it loses its appeal.”

He leaned against the counter, studying me. “So you were forced into the health-nut life.”

One corner of my mouth kicked up. “I guess. Taught myself to cook with limited ingredients because my fridge is super small. But it forced me to get creative, and I found I liked it.”

The timer dinged as if to punctuate my point. I grabbed the oven mitts and slid the casserole dish out of the oven. The egg, cheese, and veggie concoction was lined with crescent roll dough I’d found in the fridge, and it smelled incredible.

Colt leaned over my shoulder. “It looks really green.”

I rolled my eyes and moved to grab plates. “I promise the scary vegetables won’t get you. Now grab us some orange juice and sit.”

He glared at me but did as I instructed while I plated the casserole. I was pretty damn proud of my creation, but the true test would be Colt’s reaction. We sat and I waited as he studied his plate. He cut off the smallest bite he could manage and waited for it to cool. Finally he slid it into his mouth.

He chewed once. Twice. Then his brows just about hit his hairline. “This is really good.”

I grinned. “No death by veggies on my watch.”

Colt took a bigger bite this time, letting out a groan. “Damn, Chaos. You can cook.”

Why did that feel like the best praise in the world? Maybe because it had been a long time since I’d gotten any sort of praise at all beyond comments on the internet. I’d forgotten what it felt like.

“What’s wrong?”

I jolted, my gaze snapping back to Colt, who was staring at me intently. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie,” he ground out. “Tell me to mind my own business, but don’t lie.”

That was fair. Colt deserved way more than my lies. I sliced off a bite of the casserole. “I was just thinking it was nice to cook for someone who appreciates it.”

Colt studied me as I chewed. “It’s hard to build a community when you’re constantly moving from place to place.”

I nodded. “My community is online mostly. Other than the occasional in-person meeting.”

“What about your parents?” He asked the question gently, as if approaching a possible land mine.

“I don’t see them much. Maybe once a year. They didn’t handle Avery’s disappearance well.”

I felt Colt’s gaze on me as I ate another bite of casserole. But he didn’t ask another question, simply waited for me to fill the silence. I appreciated the gentle pressure that was far from forceful. It was more like a quiet invitation to share more.

“My mom tightened the reins to the point of unhealthy,” I went on.

“In what way?” he asked softly.

“Didn’t want me to leave the house after dark, even with friends. Wanted me to text her every thirty minutes. Didn’t want me to move out.”

“That’s rough. On both of you.”

I toyed with another bite of food, not lifting it to my mouth. “I tried to get her into therapy, but she refused.”

“What about your dad?” Colt asked.

“He just sort of stopped living at all. Goes to work. Comes home. Eats dinner. Makes sure Mom eats something. Watches TV. Does the same thing the next day. I don’t blame him. But I also couldn’t do that. Do what my mom wanted just to ease her anxiety. So I left.”

I lifted my gaze to Colt, expecting to see judgment there. Expecting that he would think I was an asshole or worse. But instead I found understanding.

Those deep-brown eyes searched mine. “You needed to go out and live.”

It was the first time someone had really understood it. That need. That desperation. “I feel like I have to live for her and me. Experience everything I can because Avery will never get to.”

Pain streaked across Colt’s face. “That’s a lot on your shoulders.”

“And there’s not the same sort of weight on yours?” I asked. Emerson was still here but marked by what had happened to her, changed.

“I need to make sure it doesn’t happen to other people,” he rasped. “Help when the horrible happens. But you know that pull too.”

I did. And it was easy for it to become a compulsion. It was interesting, the way we all dealt with trauma, some of it so similar, and other parts as different as night and day. “I want to make sure they all get a voice. All the ones who lost theirs.”

Colt’s throat worked as he swallowed. “I’m sorry I didn’t see that at first.”

I lifted a brow. “At first?”

He chuckled, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Okay, at all. Until recently. Been listening to more episodes over the past few weeks. You do good work.”

I tipped my chin down so that I looked him dead in the eyes. Those dark, fathomless depths. “Law Man…is that a compliment?”

His lips twitched, and I wanted to feel the movement of that stubble beneath my palm. “Don’t be greedy, Chaos.”

“I love being greedy,” I said, eyes dancing. “It’s how you get what you want.”

Those dark eyes flashed with a smoky heat, reminding me of my favorite whiskey. Our favorite whiskey. And then he ruined it. “Walk me through what happened last night.”