between the two of them. Ryder never spoke. He’d never offered more than a passing glance her way.
It seemed to Reese that he’d left her behind in that graveyard, just like his sister. He’d left Rhiannon alone in that casket and Reese alone to face the pain that lay solely at her own feet.
“Ay, coño,” she cried, her stomach curling, the exertion on the treadmill overwhelming her, flushing her skin and making her insides rebuke the treatment she’d given them. Without thinking about where she was, Reese crawled away from the mirror and right to the trash can on the other side of a row of free weights. The lid flew open then broke off as she shoved it aside, and Reese hovered above it, sure that she’d be sick. But the smell was clean, and bitter and for some reason, it calmed her. Her body still curled, and she held herself over the can, bile threatening to emerge, tears burning her eyes then spilling out, over her face and down her neck.
When she was calmer, Reese eased away, moving back to the floor, elbows on her knees as she held her face, continuing to sob, feeling useless and broken and somehow exactly as she’d wanted when she stepped out of the elevator. It was good, she thought, to feel this, to be rid of some of what had swirled so thick inside her she thought she’d never breathe again. She was calm now, exhausted, but centered and Reese was able to grab her towel and scrub her face as the trembling that had overtaken her entire body subsided.
“Good,” she said to herself, head shaking as she leaned back against the mirror, face covered by the towel. “This is good.”
Then Reese forgot about the pain and the guilt. She pushed the flash of Rhiannon’s face to the back of her mind and replaced it with something else—fear and fury. Betrayal and disgust, but she put none of that on herself. It was Ryder, his face controlled, guarded at the funeral, his expression enraged at the burial, his frown heavy at the club just a few nights before.
Very nearly a duplicate of the face, all hard and scrutinizing, she spotted staring at her from the doorway.
7.
RYDER
RYDER DIDN’T like feeling helpless. It had happened once before, in that hospital waiting room, not knowing what happened to his little sister or where the day would lead. Turned out it ended badly. It had shaken everything Ryder thought he knew about strength. He had none that day. Standing in the gym doorway, watching Reese exert herself until she was sobbing and vomiting on the floor, he had a reminder of what helplessness felt like.
But then, he knew better than to believe Reese was helpless.
She watched him as he walked toward her, eyes round, expression wary, but Reese did not ask Ryder why he’d shown on a Sunday and why he stood there watching her. She waited until he knelt in front of her, offering his full Thermos of ice water to her. Reese didn’t take it or do much else but watch him, unblinking, looking cynical, doubtful that there wasn’t something vile and deadly in that bottle.
“You know,” he started, flipping the top open when she ignored him, “a lot of rookies overdo it.” Jaw clenching, Ryder shifted his gaze from her hand, still balled into a fist in her lap, then right at her face. “You know better than to overwork yourself. Especially on a treadmill.” He picked up her wrist and put the bottle between her fingers. “Especially on your own.”
“What is this?” she asked, her voice clogged, sinuses stuffed. She didn’t mean the offer and advice—that much he knew. “Why are you here?”
He shrugged, waiting for her to drink, forearms on his thighs. “I can’t run in my neighborhood or on the trails anymore. The fans caught on to my routine. I come here to get my run in on Sundays.”
“You don’t have a rest day?” she asked, wiping the back of her hand over her forehead.
“Not with my salary.”
Reese took a sip from the bottle, likely to hide the shake of her head at Ryder’s admission. “Right,” she said, crab crawling to her feet, ignoring his offered hand to steady her when she stumbled. “I got it.”
But he knew she didn’t have a damn thing. She was exhausted. Her complexion had gone pale, something he’d only seen happen to her once, when she caught the flu during the Thanksgiving holiday