“Goddamnit, Amber! Kill your thoughts!” Ryder grits out, his threat raising over the hum of the casino. He cups my nape and presses his forehead to mine, our quickened breaths mingling as he brushes his thumbs along my cheeks, swiping away my tears. “Tuck them back where they belong. Everyone—you included—is having a good time this weekend.” Shame trots across his face as he steps back, dropping his voice to a torturous whisper. “We all need it. Ya hearing me, peach? We. Need. It. And what you’re doing is . . . Fuck, Amber, it’s making it worse. Please . . . just . . .” He trails off and rests his lips against my temple, his shoulders slumping as he moves his hands to my hips, gripping them. “Just let it go.”
Heart fraying, I swallow back the wave of emotions flooding my throat. I’m pissed, confused, and hurt. Still, I know I’ve pushed him too far, my explosion nearly causing him to lose his cool.
My instinct to jet sinks through me, embarrassment burning my chest as I spin, searching for an exit. Ignoring Madeline’s calls to stop, I shove through the crowd, my cries lost amid the frenzied atmosphere. With tears blurring my vision, the blistering breath of late November blows its poisoned chill across my skin as I step outside, into the clusterfuck that is Atlantic City.
Drunken partygoers slam into me as a rainbow of lights pop over a gang of prostitutes gathered around a corner streetlamp. With sheer chaos surrounding me, I’m alone and empty, the core of who I am completely hollowed out. Though two amazing men want me—desiring all of my broken pieces, each tortured imperfection—I feel more alone than the day I watched true evilness seep into my father’s pores, blackening his soul before he took his and my mother’s lives.
On autopilot, I walk. I walk until my feet ache, until it feels as though my skin has turned into cement, the bitter cold wind beating against my face with every step. My heart a dumping ground for tainted memories, I think. I think until my skull feels like it’s about to split in half, my head replaying every torturous minute of my life. I think of each second that’s crawled by since my parents died, of the rare amount of good times we shared, the countless bad that gutted us. I think of the damage I’ve done to myself, using who and what I can to mask my pain, forever hiding in the shadows of my reality.
Body prickled numb, I lean against a brick wall of an abandoned storefront and sink to the ground, losing myself to the vengeance of life’s cruelty. Arms curled around my bare shoulders, I rest my head on my knees and—after years of needing to—fall apart, tears dripping from my eyes as I suck in a string of shaky breaths. Praying to a God I’m unsure ever existed in my world, I purge every wicked emotion from my system, releasing my parents to where they’ve always belonged . . . my past.
Still, I’m bound to my present, a prisoner chained to the hurt diseasing Brock and Ryder. I never thought I’d be capable of letting a single person into my life, yet I’ve opened myself up to two men, allowing them to see through all of my disturbing layers. Left feeling so helpless to what’s going on with them is wearing me down, my spirit eroding by the second. They’re embedded in my soul, each man a beautiful thread stitching my once-broken heart back together. Knowing something has them scared not only scares me, it’s cutting me to pieces.
Time creeps by—for how long, I’m unsure—before I feel a hand touch the side of my face. I look up, my weary gaze landing on Ryder. I wipe my eyes and manage a weak smile, but it’s quickly replaced with more tears as he lifts me from the ground, pulling me into the safety net of his warmth. I throw my arms around his neck, holding on to him with what little strength I have left as I sob into his chest, each tear an exorcism of the demons that have forever controlled me. Resting his lips on my forehead, Ryder wraps his suit jacket around me.
“Christ, I never meant to hurt you,” he whispers, his voice cracking as he holds me tighter, not a single inch separating us. “I’d die first before ever trying to hurt you, peach. I’m so sorry.”
I lift my watery gaze to his, my breath snagging as I bear witness to what I never imagined I would . . . tears building behind Ryder’s eyes. Fighting them back, he looks away, his face contorted with the anguish of a man who’s done something unperceivably wrong. I touch his jaw, my need to console him overwhelming.
He stares beyond my eyes—straight into the hollow of my soul—the pain emanating off him shattering my last bit of resistance to him, to the idea of . . . us. Unable to convey with words my heartbreak over his silent torture, I do what feels right, what has felt like second nature from the moment we met.
I kiss him.
I kiss him until I’m warm, the heat from his gentle touch melting the cold from my muscles. I kiss him until the quickened notes of our breath drown out the sound of my crying, his hands gripping my waist as he slowly sweeps his tongue over mine. I kiss him with everything I am, my concern for him imploding as I taste the bitterness in his need to tell me what’s kidnapped who he used to be.
“Please,” I beg as he deepens the kiss, his strokes becoming possessive, urgent. A soft moan claws up my throat, my body confused by the lethal blend of hunger and hurt. “Please tell me what’s wrong. I need to know what happened. I love Brock more than anything, and I . . .” I break the kiss, watching in agony as a lone tear slips down his face.
My breath catches again, my tears falling in a torrent of thick sheets. This beautiful, selfless, caring man’s exposing his opened wounds to me, setting his vulnerabilities on the operating table of my heart for me to repair.