Page 14 of Sweet Oblivion

Olivia looks between Delaney and me, her steely green eyes nearly predatory with the way she stares.“You’re going to get married.”

“That’s not funny, Liv.” My head fucking throbs as I try to wrap it around everything being thrown my way.

“I’m not being funny, Ryker. There are a million clips circulating of you getting in the ambulance and telling the EMTs you’re Delaney’s husband. They’re circulating with clips from minutes before, when you were beating Roger Dennings with your bare hands. His body limp, clearly unconscious by the time Hendrix pulled you off him.”

“I needed them to let me in the ambulance with her, Olivia. I said what I had to say to make sure she was safe,” I argue, not sure how any of this matters.

“Well, it was fucking genius, Ryker. And it’s what’s going to get you out of this.”She steps away from the door, moving closer to Delaney’s bed.“Obviously, there would be a record if the wedding took place already. So we’re going to say you’re engaged and getting married soon. Very soon.”She shrugs, like it all makes perfect sense.“Like the sooner, the better. But we’ll get tothat once you’re home. We have a lot to go over. In the meantime, if anyone asks, you’re engaged and living together.”

“No.” I flex my hand, my knuckles splitting more.

“Unless you like the idea of spending the next twenty to life in prison, no isn’t an option.”She shakes her head, like she’s frustrated I’m being stubborn about something trivial. “When a man walks into an alley and beats another man nearly to death, I can’t argue self-defense. He wasn’t hitting you. If it were anyone else, it wouldn’t be headline news. But you—a Kingston—a Beneventi—a professional athlete from an affluent family. They’re going to come after you with everything they have. The new DA is going to want to build their record on your back, Ryker. The prosecution will say it was a grudge between two rivals, and you took it too far.”

Delaney grabs my arm, getting my attention.“But that’s not what happened,” she argues quietly. “I’ll testify. They took pictures of my injuries. They?—”

“They won’t care,”Liv shuts her down.“You walked away. You both did. Dennings didn’t. As far as we know, Delaney was the only witness. If Ryker is your husband, you can’t be compelled to testify against him. If Ryker is your husband, I can spin it that your now-husband, then-fiancé, walked outside and found a man trying to rape his future wife. I can argue that he did what any man in his shoes would do. He defended his wife, and in doing so, Dennings hit his head on the asphalt. Tragic—yes. Attempted murder—no.”

“Olivia...” I try to slow her down, but she steamrolls on.

“If we change the narrative, I can spin this. I can get the media on our side, and... if I’m as good at my job as I know I am, charges will never be filed. But we need to decide on the new narrative right here. Right now.”

Fury bubbles hot in my veins. I was trying to save her life, not ruin it.

“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not going to ruin her life to save mine.”

“Ryker . . .”Liv pleads, her eyes softening.

“Yes.”Delaney swings her shaky legs out of the hospital bed and carefully stands, taking two steps until she’s in front of me. Her golden eyes lock on mine as she grips my blood-stained shirt in her hands. “He was going to kill me, Ryker. He was choking me with one hand and shoving down my pants with the other. You saved me. You saved my life.” Her tear-filled eyes break my heart. “I wouldn’t be here, right now. I’d be in the morgue.”

Carefully, she turns to Liv. “I’ll do it.”

RYKER

If there’s paparazzi at Delaney’s place, turn around and go to yours.

I’m sure your security is better.

Got it?

We’re good.

Just pulled into the parking lot. It’s empty.

Good. How is she?

Quiet. I think shock set in.

How are you?

Ask me again tomorrow.

—Text from Liv to Ryker

Delaney’s head rests against the Rover’s cool window, eyes closed and body still as the sun begins to rise above an empty Main Street, ushering in a new day.

Good fucking riddanceto the old one.

“Lane.” I gently place a hand on the blue scrubs covering her leg when she doesn’t answer, scared to startle her if she’s finally sleeping. But without moving an inch, her eyes open and focus on me. “You want to give me your keys?”