“She still needed to take her meds,” he counters softly. “Has nothing to do with you.”
“You would’ve been in the bathroom when she got sick, Ryder.”
“Not necessarily.”
My brows knit together. “How so?”
“She gets embarrassed by it, and doesn’t usually call for help. Most days none of us even knows she got sick. Again, nothing to do with you.” He rests his forearm on the doorjamb, and with his mouth pulled into a grin, his gaze dares me to continue. “She seriously likes you, Amber. She talked about you until she fell asleep. Believe it or not, she’s not a very trusting child, so that says a lot.”
“Really?” A small smile forms across my lips.
“Yeah, really. She’s digging you.” He looks at me through his thick, dark lashes, his expression turning soft. “Nothing that’s happened here today’s your fault. None. Of. It.”
I manage to pry my eyes from his. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“That’s quite possible,” he says slowly. “But only because you’re making me feel guilty would I attempt this.”
Bringing my gaze back to his, I fall silent.
He chuckles, the full hearty sound resonating through the room. “You know I’m only kidding, peach. If you didn’t drop by, we still would’ve played Hedbanz, and she would’ve beaten me like she always does. After she kicked my ass, I still would’ve played the coolest-brother-in-the-universe part and taken her to Toys-R-Us.” His attention moves between my lips and eyes.
My body responds the only way it knows how, the only way it has from the second we met. A shudder rolls through me, my skin and thoughts instantly heated.
He clears his throat, his voice a whisper. “I can’t say I would’ve wound up enjoying a kiss from a certain beautiful someone if she didn’t stop by, though. It added . . . flavor to my day. But I’ve already explained to that beautiful someone that the both of us took part in that kiss, so we’re equally guilty. All we can do from this point on is make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
I say nothing as I open the door, and step out into the afternoon sun. The late September heat slides down my skin and attaches to my every pore, disintegrating my breath as I turn, meeting Ryder’s eyes. For a brief moment, I feel what he said can be achieved. As long as we don’t put each other at risk for a slipup, there’s no reason we can’t remain what we are.
Whatever that is, I’m not sure.
However, as I get into my car—heart thundering in my ears and Ryder’s predatory gaze locked on mine—I can’t help but wonder if we’re both delusional. Have we already fallen, toppled over like two defeated chess pieces, into a pit of emotions neither of us can drag ourselves out of?
I drive away not knowing the answer.
CHAPTER 10
Amber
“THE SOUND OF your clock’s annoying,” I say to my therapist. “Really annoying.”
Martin swings his attention to the clock on his desk and jots down the time on his nifty yellow notepad, keeping track of how many dull minutes he has left with me. Each and every “brain picker”—including this one—couldn’t give a shit about my problems. But as long as they’re getting paid, they’ll act like they care for a whopping hour.
Hence the reason I’m in school for psychology. Besides being able to help my screwed-up patients, I swear there won’t be a single fucking clock in my office.
“You’re trying to change the subject, Amber.” Martin’s chocolate-brown eyes assess me. “Are you going to make this a habit every time you come to see me?”
With a jittery knee, I stare over his shoulder at the flower-patterned wallpaper. “Depends on what kind of mood I’m in.”
“Well, in that case, I take that as a yes. That’s what you do every time you’re here.”
I flick my eyes in his direction, hoping the way I’ve narrowed them tells him I’m not impressed. Not even close.
“I spoke with Cathy this morning,” he continues. “She’s really hoping to see some progress with you.”
“Ah, the guilt card. Nice touch, Marty.”
“Amber . . .” He sighs heavily. “This is our ninth session. You’ve barely spoken about what happened. I need you to elaborate a little more. Your foster parents want me to help you. I can’t do that without your participation.”
I drop my gaze and stare at my chipped blue nail polish. I try to think about Cathy’s heartfelt talks about how therapy’s the key to me releasing the demons possessing my life. Her pleading face flashes in my head, causing my stomach to curl over in guilt. I don’t want to let Cathy down. She and Mark have been so good to me, trying everything in their power to help me get better. Still, in an instant, everything goes to shit in my brain, anger playing a wicked game of Russian roulette with the ghosts of my past.
I pull in a deep breath and drag my gaze back to him. “Can I talk about something else instead?”
He nods and rests his ankle over the knee of his navy dress pants. “We can discuss whatever’s on your mind.”
“I cheated on my boyfriend,” I admit, waiting for the judgmental of course you did, you’re a whore look. He stays neutral. I continue. “It happened over a month ago, but it’s been bothering me ever since.”
“Why does it bother you?” he asks, scribbling some shit onto his notepad.
“Not sure, Marty. Maybe it’s because I have a conscience?” I roll my eyes. “Maybe it’s because my father used to bang his groupies? Maybe it’s because it’s a Tuesday? Whatever the case, cheating’s not cool. I rank it right up there with attempted murder.”