guilt had definitely been his constant companion. Survivor’s guilt. He knew all about it. He’d read up on it. He’d talked with Nick about it. He’d done everything but overcome it.
“Are you ready to work on that?” Nick asked, his voice low.
Ryker opened his eyes, not surprised to find them damp. Swallowing the emotion down, he whispered. “Yes.”
It was a single word—just three letters—but it was the hardest thing to say. The guilt didn’t immediately leave him, but he felt as if a weight had fallen away. It was as if he’d been drowning in a sea of guilt, held down by a weight around his ankles. The weight was gone, but he was still in that sea. It would take work to get to shore, but for the first time since that horrific day, he found himself wanting to do the work.
Nick reached across the distance between them and grasped his arm, a compassionate look on his face. “You won’t be doing this alone.”
“Thank you,” Ryker said as he laid his hand on top of Nick’s. Some might have said it wasn’t a good idea for him to come to someone so closely tied to his family for therapy, but Nick had felt safe, and Ryker knew that he’d made the right decision to come back to him.
When he left the office a short time later, after thanking Nick for making time on his Saturday to see him and making another appointment for later in the week, Ryker headed to his folks’ place. His mom had made him promise to come by and pick up some food to take to the hospital.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she said when he walked into the house. She wrapped him in a tight hug, the scent of her perfume a familiar comfort. “I know you don’t want to hang around too long, so come right on into the kitchen.”
Appreciating her understanding, Ryker followed her into the spacious kitchen. He hadn’t told her yet about returning to Nick for therapy, and he knew Nick wouldn’t reveal it. But he didn’t say anything right then either because she’d want to talk to him about it, and he didn’t want to hang around that long.
“It smells great, Mom,” he said as he settled on a stool at the island.
“I hope she likes it.” His mom picked up an insulated bag from the counter and slid a couple of containers into it. “This is for supper tonight. It should stay warm as long as you leave it in the bag.”
“They do have a family room that has a microwave,” Ryker said.
“Well, that works too.” She picked up another bag and began to put more things into that one. “Here are the items you asked me to make, plus these are cinnamon buns and cookies. They’re your favorites, but don’t eat them all yourself.”
Ryker chuckled. “I won’t, Mom. I learned to share a long time ago. Well, I would make an exception for Callie.”
“Leave your sister alone,” she said with an exasperated look.
“If only she’d leave me alone.”
“You know that she cares about you and only wants the best for you.”
“Which, according to her, apparently means returning to my career and getting back together with Lydia.”
His mom stopped what she was doing, resting her hands on the counter as she regarded him for a moment. “And that wouldn’t be something you wanted?”
“Mom, if I wanted those things, I would have taken steps to get them. I’m on a different path right now,” Ryker said, then paused. “I’m not sure where it’s going, and I’m not ruling out returning to medicine, but it’s not going to happen right now.”
“And getting back together with Lydia?”
“That’s not going to happen,” he said with more conviction. “Not now. Not ever.”
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected as a reaction from his mom, but it wasn’t, “Good. You two weren’t right for each other.”
Ryker stared at his mom in surprise. “I thought you liked her.”
“Oh, I like her just fine, sweetheart,” she said. “But I never really felt she was right for you.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“The thing is, I didn’t think she was exactly wrong for you either.”
“Now I’m confused.”
She gave him a smile. “What I mean is that I didn’t doubt that the two of you would make it work. You loved each other and were committed to your relationship. I just thought that maybe a different sort of man might have made her happier in the long run. And a different sort of woman