Page 11 of Sweet Oblivion

I called Olivia.

What? Why?

Because it’s 3am, and she’s your agent, your cousin, and a lawyer.

Who the fuck did you want me to call to deal with this shit?

Your parents?

Go home, Hendrix. Go get your kid.

I’ll leave when Liv gets here.

—Text from Hendrix to Ryker

The dim lights in the cold hospital room do nothing to hide the damage that’s been done. It’s in every shallow breath Delaney takes. Every wince. Every bruise.

I’m not sure how long we’ve been here,but it feels like hours as a nurse with a tight-gray bun and pale-blue scrubs, who looks like she could be older than my great-grandmother, settles Delaney back in after having taken her for an MRI. “Can I get you anything, Ms. Rousseau?”

Delaney closes her eyes and shakes her head. Barely a shake, but she winces again.

“Okay, then.” Tight wrinkles frame her face as she smiles softly. “A doctor should be in soon to speak with you.”

Another tear slips from the corner of Delaney’s bruised eye as the door closes behind the nurse.

“Lane...” Gently, I take her hand in mine, as careful as I can be not to hurt her. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call your sister?”

Ashton’s going to kick my ass for not calling already. Then Jamie’s going to try to kick it for upsetting Ashton. But Delaney said no.

No to Ashton.

No to Jamie.

She didn’t want anyone called.

She sent Kaleigh home, not that she went. I’m pretty sure she’s sitting in the lobby with Hendrix, waiting for an update. One I promised to give as soon as we got it. But this stubbornly beautiful woman turns her bruised and battered face my way and shakes her head. “Don’t call Ashton.”

I swear to God, I want to rip this hospital apart brick by brick until I find Roger Dennings and fucking kill him for even thinking he had the right to touch her.

His handprint is bruised into the skin of her delicate neck. Angry and swollen. Two black eyes. A split lip. A split cheek a plastic surgeon is coming in to look at. Two bruised ribs. And what I’m pretty sure they’re about to tell us is a concussion. And who knows what he’s done to this woman’s psyche?

“Lane... She’d want to know what happened,” I try to reason. “You need your?—”

“No. Let her sleep. She’ll find out tomorrow.” Her voice is soft, and her eyes are closed. I’m not sure I actually even hear her voice until it cracks. “She’s a million months pregnant and can’t do anything tonight anyway. I just want to go home and get in my own bed. Will you take me home, Ryker?”

Carefully, I push her hair away from her face and wipe another stray tear away. “I’ll get you out of here just as soon as I can. I promise. We just have to wait for the doctor to clear you first. Okay, Bambi?”

Her gentle laugh followed by her wince hurts my fucking heart. Those gold-flecked doe eyes open and focus on mine. “Haven’t heard that one in a long damn time, pretty boy. You never did tell me why you called me that.”

The very first time I walked into that bar and saw this woman and those doe eyes, she reminded me of that damn Disney deer. Not that I’ve ever told her that. I liked teasing her. Liked the way it would make her smile. Liked the way she’d give it back to me withPretty Boy. Ridiculous or not, it was a nickname, and in my mind, that was the first crack in the walls this woman had up whenever I was around.

“Pretty sure I told you you’d have to go on a date with me to find out,” I tease, hoping it helps and point at my face. “I’m still pretty, even with the black eye, right?” I joke, not that there’s anything funny about this night. But I’d do anything to keep her from crying again.

She turns her head away and says something too low for my hearing aids to pick up. “Delaney—” Gently, I turn her face back to mine, careful not to hurt her. Hating that I missed what she said. “What did you say?”

“Shit. Sorry.”she tries to sign with shaky hands.

Shame she signspleaseinstead ofsorry.