Page 23 of Clashing

Chapter sixteen

Crisis

Scarlett

T uesdays became dinner night with Dan no matter what. He made sure we both had the day off and we alternated cooking. While he made the same grilled cheese every time it was his turn, I didn’t mind. I liked his sandwiches, and the food wasn’t the point.

The only thing that sucked was the stomach-knotting guilt from sneaking around with Ryker. Dan wasn’t stupid. He knew something was up and, unfortunately, knew me well enough to know a guy was involved. The fact that I wouldn’t tell him worried him. I hated that.

Creaking above alerted me that Dan was on his way downstairs. I braced myself as I finished the fajitas, trying to think of new and creative ways to dodge his questions for the night because I couldn’t tell him yet. I had to talk to Ryker first.

I shut off the stove and gathered plates from the cupboard when Dan shouted. The floor creaked louder, and then there was a loud thud , followed by several others, then a crash . Dan cried out, and I sprinted to the foyer.

Panic seized my muscles, freezing me for a few seconds. Dan lay on the ground with a cut on his temple. Blood streamed from the wound, dripping onto the floor. The plates from my hand clattered to the wooden boards, shattering.

“Dan!”

Rushing to his side, I then turned him over. He groaned, his face contorting in pain. My hands hovered over him, afraid to touch in case I made it worse.

“What happened?” I scrambled for my phone.

He cringed, his eyes dazed. “My knee gave out.”

His slurred tone knotted my stomach. He hadn’t started drinking, yet his voice was slow and odd. I forced back tears and started dialing 911, but he huffed.

“No ambulance. They’re too expensive.”

“Are you serious?” I gaped. “You fell down the fucking stairs. You’re bleeding!”

“We can go to the hospital but no ambulance.” His stubborn tone contrasted with his vulnerable demeanor as his eyes slid shut again, his breath short and harsh.

My heart raced and I swallowed, eyeing the gash on his head. How the hell does he expect me to get him in a car? He probably broke something. Or some things . I didn’t want to make it worse.

I dialed Ryker’s number without thinking. He answered after the first ring and the words tumbled out of me faster than my tears spilled. “Dan fell down the stairs.”

“What? In his house?”

“Yes.” I scrubbed away the tears and set my hand on Dan’s trembling shoulder. “He’s hurt bad, and he hit his head, and he won’t let me call an ambulance.”

“Hang on, sugar. I’m at the bar. I’ll be right there.”

The call ended and the phone fell from my shaking hand.

Dan winced with every breath. “Who was that?”

“Ryker. He’s coming over.” I took in a long inhale to steady my voice. He needed me to be strong, not panicky. I traced the wound on his head. “I can’t move you by myself. I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

Grunting, he gave a light nod. “Don’t worry, honey.”

God, he could have a concussion.

Ryker stormed through the door with two other guys. He knelt next to Dan, scanning the various injuries. “Hey, Danny, you awake?”

“I’m awake.”

Awake, but his words slurred more.

“Stay awake for me, man. Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere.” Dan laughed, then hissed and clutched his ribs.

“Scar.” Ryker’s calm but firm tone snapped my attention to him. “Go upstairs and get two fitted sheets. Strongest ones he has.”

Scrambling to my feet, I rushed upstairs to the linen closet.

I returned with the least worn sheets. Ryker instructed me to arrange them on top of each other beside Dan.

Once I had them down, Ryker and his friends cautiously moved Dan onto them.

The four of us carried him outside, each grasping a corner.

Thankfully, Dan hadn’t put the seats back after I borrowed his van, allowing space to lay him down.

Ryker and I sat with him as Ryker’s friend raced us down the street. During the drive, Ryker called the hospital and explained what happened, asking them to be ready for us. Dan lay quietly, one of his hands sandwiched between mine.

When we arrived, they wheeled Dan away on a bed and didn’t let me follow.

Ryker stayed with me in the waiting room.

As much as I liked being strong and taking care of myself, I needed his arms around me and didn’t fight him when he sat and pulled me into his lap.

I tried not to cry but Dan was my world .

Ryker held me while we waited. Pale linoleum floors squeaked from the sneakers of people running by. A telephone perpetually rang with small absences, and the constant bustle of doctors in and out of doors made me jump every time, hoping one of them was Dan’s doctor.

The sun set by the time they let me see him. Just me, since I was family. Well, not technically, but the closest thing he had, and thankfully he told them I was his niece.

The doctor pulled me aside and informed me Dan would be all right.

I thanked him for telling me ahead of time because the relief at that news made me burst into tears.

Dan didn’t need to witness me crying. I got a hold of myself before I entered the room to find him sound asleep.

A pile of beeping machines reassured me he was all right.

Although I could breathe because he’d be okay, the list of injuries wasn’t anything to scoff at.

A concussion. A broken arm, leg, and a couple ribs.

It could’ve been worse, but he had to get his knees fixed whether he liked it or not.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to walk. He wasn’t in any position to use crutches, so they informed me they’d keep him for a couple days but would send him home with a wheelchair.

He’s going to hate that.

I stayed well past visiting hours and nearly passed out on the chair by Dan’s bed. The nurse gently encouraged me to go home and get some rest. She took my number, promised to call if anything changed, and said she’d tell Dan to call me when he woke.

Stiff limbs protested movement after staying tense in one place for so long. I stretched as I made my way to the waiting room, and only then realized Ryker didn’t have a way home. Someone picked up his friends earlier and he stayed with me, but he didn’t have his motorcycle, only Dan’s van.

I sped up and found Ryker still waiting, seemingly much more awake than I was. He stood at my approach.

“I’m sorry.” I rubbed my eyes, swollen from tears. “I didn’t think about how you wouldn’t have a ride.”

“Don’t be sorry. I could’ve had someone pick me up.” He closed his arms around me, blanketing me in comfort I needed as badly as I needed Dan to be all right. “I’m here as long as you’re here.”

I melted into him. “Thank you.”

Ryker stroked my hair. “How is he?”

“Fine. He’s asleep. He’s going to be in a wheelchair. I’m sure that’s going to piss him off when he wakes up.” I trudged toward the exit. “He’s not going to like sleeping downstairs.”

Ryker‘s hand enveloped mine on our way to the parking lot. “We’ll figure it out.” He squeezed my hand as we approached the van. “Give me the keys, Scar. You’re barely awake.”

Normally I’d fight him, but emotional and physical exhaustion stole my energy. I handed him the keys, but he guided me to the passenger side and helped me in before he hurried to the driver’s side.

The cool glass from the window I rested my head against didn’t wake me up. I barely registered the drive. At some point, Ryker’s hand landed on my thigh. I appreciated his show of comfort but speaking required too much of me, so I said nothing, and Ryker being himself, remained silent.

We arrived at the bar, where Ryker parked the van in the alley next to my truck. I pivoted toward Dan’s house, and Ryker followed. We stepped inside and a lump caught in my throat at the blood pooled at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey.” Ryker squeezed my shoulder. “Go to bed. I’ll clean up.”

“No. It’s okay. I can handle it.”

I got a rag from the kitchen, but before I could do anything with it, Ryker snatched it out of my hands and crouched beside the blood.

There was still the mess from the dropped plates as well, so I found a paper bag and the broom.

Glass scraped against the floor, scratching the already scuffed wooden planks.

A lot of the pieces were big, so I crouched and carefully plucked them by hand, then dropped them in the bag.

Ryker covered me with his body from behind and closed his hands over mine. “Stop. Come on, Scarlett.” He pulled me to my feet. “You need sleep.”

“I have to clean it up.”

He turned me to face him. “I’ll clean it up.”

I desperately wanted to not cry but tears fell anyway. Dropping my head to his chest, I let it out. He wrapped his arms around me and though it brought comfort, it made me cry harder. “I was so scared.”

“I know, but you did well, and he’s okay. He’ll be home before you know it.” His lips pressed to the top of my head. “Come on, sugar. Let me put you to bed.”

“I want to stay in the house,” I mumbled into his chest.

Strong hands gripped the back of my thighs and lifted me. “All right.”

My legs locked around his waist, and he carried me upstairs into the spare bedroom. He laid me down, and I knew I should let him go but I didn’t want to. I caught his hand, tears in my eyes, the plea of stay with me unable to escape my tight throat.

Regardless, he understood. We’d always communicated better physically than verbally.

Ryker lay beside me and pulled me to his chest. A heavy hand stroking my spine eased the panic, and the light forehead kisses made me cling to him, absorbing every ounce of comfort he gave. “He’s okay, baby. You did good. You handled it well. It’s going to be all right.”

My racing heart slowed under his affection. I’d never been more comfortable, and I still wore shoes.

I must’ve been very comfortable because when I woke up, I couldn’t remember falling asleep. Daylight filtered through the curtains, revealing I’d been asleep a while.

There was an empty space beside me where Ryker had been.

He must’ve left. It shouldn’t hurt. He didn’t owe me anything and he helped a ton yesterday.

But my heart ached at his absence. I reached into my pocket for my phone and found nothing.

No messages. I couldn’t wait for the nurse to call.

I’d have to check in for my peace of mind.

My eyelids slid shut, my body exhausted and protesting my desire to call the nurse. A thud snapped my eyes open. A knocking, almost. I frowned and sat up. The rhythmic thud continued, like someone hammering.

I forced myself out of bed and toward the door where more noises persisted. Voices. I shuffled down the hall, then peered around the corner down the stairs.

Ryker stood at the bottom with several guys I recognized from the bar. Regulars who always arrived with Ryker. My brows furrowed as they snapped rails off the stairs. One of them spotted me and nudged Ryker, who jogged upstairs.

“Hey, sugar. Sorry if we woke you. We had to get started to finish before Danny gets released.”

“What are you doing?”

“Installing a wheelchair lift so he can get up to his room and downstairs.” He gestured at the new device they’d screwed into the wall. “We have to make the stairs bigger or it won’t fit. Don’t worry, we’ve all done this kind of thing before. We’ll get it done right.”

Tears stung my eyes. Dan would be so relieved . Ryker took my hand and led me down the hallway, out of view of the other guys.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He wrapped his arms around me and cradled my head into his chest. “He’ll be home soon.”

“It’s not that.” I blinked back tears but they caught in my lashes. “You’re so sweet for doing this. I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything.” He kissed my head. “It’s nothing. Danny’s done plenty for us. We’re returning the favor. Watching out for our own. But hey, it would probably be a good idea for you to not stay in that room or you’ll end up trapped here while we’re working. Why don’t you go to your apartment?”

I shook my head and pulled back from the arms I wanted to bury myself in for a few hours. Or days. Or weeks. “I want to help.”

He arched a brow. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“No.” I batted my eyelashes, fully aware I looked like a train wreck, and it shouldn’t work. “But you do.”

He sighed but took my hand and led me to the stairs. “Fine. Come on.”

We rejoined his friends, and they packed on the niceness, even more than when I served them at the bar.

One handed me a breakfast burrito from a stack they’d picked up on their way over.

Ryker started working again but not before glancing at me over his shoulder with a smile that left me breathless. Ryker didn’t smile.

Air rushed from my lungs. That smile. His tenderness. All the things he’d done for me and Dan. The way he stepped up . . .

I was falling for him. Hard.

The realization left a pit in my stomach.

Only a few days ago, he reemphasized our relationship was only about sex.

He’d said that before and I didn’t have a problem with it because I liked having sex with him.

I didn’t want a relationship anyway. We promised we’d tell each other if feelings developed and I was certain they wouldn’t because he pissed me off most of the time.

But now?

I watched him, and it wasn’t only because he was unbelievably sexy, his muscles flexing as he worked, his eyes a striking blue, and body exhibit worthy.

It was that he was also funny and ridiculously sweet and loyal and dependable.

I didn’t want only sex anymore. People showed their true colors in a crisis, and he certainly had.

He was everything I needed and more last night. And this? Installing that for Dan?

Shit.

I was in trouble.