Chapter 16

chapter

sixteen

The room was too bright. Too sterile. Too loud, even in its silence. The steady beep of the heart monitor grated on Rylan’s nerves, each sound hammering into his skull like a nail.

He didn’t need to look around to know where he was. The IV in his arm, the rough hospital blanket draped over him, and the faint antiseptic smell all told him enough. He’d been here before. Different circumstances, same crushing feeling of failure.

“Finally awake.”

Rylan turned his head slowly, his neck stiff. Zak stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, his face a mix of relief and simmering anger. Behind him were Donovan, Shane, Veronica, and Sawyer, his seeing-eye dog Zelda standing alertly at his feet. Even Pierce was there, his expression like a storm cloud on the verge of bursting open.

They were all here. His team. His family by choice.

The people he didn’t deserve.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was rough, scratchy, and weaker than he liked.

Zak stepped closer, his prosthetic leg tapping against the floor with each step. “Making sure you don’t pull this shit again.”

Rylan groaned and turned his head toward the window. The weak morning light filtered through the blinds, doing nothing to ease the ache in his skull. “I’m fine.”

“Fine?” Donovan said, incredulous. “You call OD’ing on pills and booze fine? Jesus, Ry.”

“I didn’t OD.” At least, he didn’t think he had. At least, not on purpose. “I just… miscalculated.”

Shane let out a humorless laugh. “Miscalculated? That’s what you’re calling it?”

“I didn’t mean to—” He stopped himself, the words catching in his throat. He didn’t know what he’d meant to do. Didn’t want to examine it too closely.

“You didn’t mean to what?” Zak asked. “Scare the shit out of us? Land yourself in the hospital? Or did you not mean for us to find you in time?”

Rylan clenched his jaw and curled his fist into the sheet. He wasn’t wearing his prosthetic arm. He briefly wondered where it was, then decided he didn’t care. He didn’t care if he ever saw the fucking thing again. “I don’t need your help.”

“Clearly, you do,” Veronica said, her calm voice only stoking his fury. “You’re spiraling, Rylan. We’ve all seen it. And we’re not going to sit back and let you go down without a fight.”

Rylan laughed bitterly, the sound harsh in the quiet room. “You’re not going to ‘let me’? That’s rich. You’re all so fucking perfect, aren’t you? So put together. So much better than me.”

“Don’t do this,” Zak warned. “Don’t make this worse.”

Rylan ignored him, the anger bubbling up like lava, hot and uncontrollable. He’d been holding it in for too long, the pressure building until the eruption was imminent. “None of you are better than me. You’re all just as fucked up. Donovan forgot his own damn kid in the bath.”

Donovan stiffened, his face darkening with rage. “You son of a?—”

Zak put a hand against Donovan’s shoulder, holding him back and murmuring, “He’s just lashing out, trying to get a rise out of you. Don’t give him the satisfaction.” Then, louder, he said, “Stop this before you say something you’ll regret.”

But Rylan couldn’t stop. The words poured out of him like poison. “And you, Zak. Mr. High-and-Mighty. How many times did you try to off yourself before you got clean? Three? Four? You think you’re so much better now, but we all know you’re one bad day away from reaching for that bottle again. And you think they’re going to let you adopt a baby?“

“Rylan,” Zak growled, “that’s enough.”

It wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough until they were all as raw and bloody as he felt. The fire inside him—the anger, the guilt, the shame—burned too hot to control.

He turned his attention to Veronica. “And you. Ms. Calm-and-Collected. Except you couldn’t even leave the fucking house without breaking down for how long? Years? How’s that going for you, Vee? Still have to work yourself up to take a goddamn walk?”

Her face didn’t change, but the way her shoulders stiffened told him he’d struck a nerve.

“Pierce,” Rylan said, sneering. “What’s it like hiding in your room every time you have one of those panic attacks? Pretty embarrassing, I bet. You must love the pitying looks Rhiannon gives you when you finally resurface.”

Pierce gave him the finger, which made a bitter, hysterical laugh bubble out of him.

“Maybe we should let him rest,” Sawyer said.

“Ah, Sawyer,” Rylan spat, turning to the last member of the group. “Always cracking jokes, always so fucking cheerful. Everyone loves the blind guy with the great sense of humor, right? Except we all know you hate it. You hate that you can’t see, that you have to rely on Zelda for every goddamn thing. You hate Zak for regulating you to a desk, but you know you’ll never be the soldier you were before. And you’re so goddamn afraid Lucy will realize how broken you are and move on to someone better.”

Sawyer’s face had gone ashen, his sightless eyes wide in shock. Zelda whined softly, and he put a hand on her head to soothe her. “I told you that in confidence.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you should’ve told your fiancee instead of me. Y’all should just fucking talk to each other and stop dumping all of your shit on me. You come to me, and you whine about how bad your lives are, but none of you are alone . You have someone waiting at home for you. You have your happy endings with someone who loves you, who chose you. And the one I wanted didn’t choose me.” Rylan’s voice cracked, the anger giving way to raw pain. “So y’all can just fuck right off with all of your issues and leave me the fuck alone.”

“You done?” Shane asked, his voice low and deadly calm. “Or do you want to keep tearing down the people who’ve done nothing but try to save your sorry ass?”

Rylan turned to lash out at him next, but the words died on his tongue. He stared at the horrible burn scars twisting Shane’s once-handsome face and realized he couldn’t even remember what the guy used to look like.

“You’re not telling us anything we don’t already know,” Zak said, stepping closer. “We’re all broken. Every damn one of us. Including you. We just didn’t see your cracks in time.”

He finally yanked his gaze away from Shane, and his throat tightened. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” Veronica said quietly. “It’s love. I can leave the house now because of you , asshole. Because you talked me through it. Because you and them”—she motioned to the others—“and my husband loved me through it. So if you think we’re going to do anything less for you now, you’re a fucking idiot.”

The walls of the room felt like they were closing in. He couldn’t take it. Couldn’t take their anger, their disappointment, their goddamn loyalty. He groped for the call button tied to his bed rail.

A nurse appeared moments later, her expression neutral but curious. “What can I do for you, Mr. Cross?”

“I don’t want visitors.” His voice came out flat and emotionless. “Get them out of here.”

The nurse hesitated, glancing at Zak and the others.

“Get. Them. Out!”

Zak’s shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him. He nodded at the nurse. “It’s okay, we’ll go. But this isn’t over, Ry. You’re not getting rid of us that easily.”

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t past the lump that had taken up residence in his throat. He stared at the ceiling and listened to the sound of their footsteps retreating, the soft click of the door as it closed behind them. The silence that followed was deafening, but it was better than their pity. Or their love.

He didn’t deserve either.

He exhaled slowly, his eyes burning as he stared at the blank hospital ceiling. He didn’t want to think about what had led him here, didn’t want to admit to himself—or anyone else—how close he’d come to letting go entirely.

But even as he tried to bury the thoughts, one truth clawed its way to the surface.

They’d saved him. And he hated them for it.