Rescuing Ryder (Serenity Securities, Team Hawk #1)

Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Ryder paced the cabin floor as he counted down the last hour before his appointment with Claire. His body hummed in anticipation of seeing her, only to reassure himself. Why he cared, he didn’t know. For the last four weeks, she kept their appointments in her office and brought in small projects to keep him busy as they chatted.

Yet something shifted between the night he bandaged her hand and the woman he saw regularly over the last four weeks. She spent a lot of time on the mountain for someone who recently purchased a new home. He caught her volunteering for trail walks with the teens, planning the movie night for the facility, claiming she wanted to give Kassie some time with the baby.

Some evenings, he went to a group session to catch a glimpse of the young soldier he saw leaning against the cabin. Kassie sent the young man, who reminded him of Hightop, to work with the service dogs and partnered him up with one of them. The soldier seemed to perk up each week a little more and Ryder found himself rooting for the kid. Some of the teens who arrived around the same time he did showed small changes, such as a smile, a laugh, or active group participation.

Ryder didn’t see or feel any changes within himself. He felt drawn to the Serenity Security team and Whiskey. Perhaps they reminded him of the brotherhood he missed with his old team. They even volunteered their time and came for family nights, bringing their wives and kids in tow to cheer up patients with no visitors or family.

When the clock approached his appointment time, he grabbed his wallet and walked toward the hospital. Ryder nodded at some of the residents he met in therapy or a couple of the teens as he passed them. He practically skipped up the steps to the entrance.

Ryder knocked on her door and waited for her to answer. He heard her shuffling around before Claire finally answered. Dark bags hung below her eyes. Her usually tidy bun appeared messy, and her clothes seemed less put together.

Claire ushered him into her office and he viewed the spacious room with a critical eye. It seemed to grow more cluttered by the day. The outfit she wore yesterday hung on a hanger inside the usually closed bathroom door. She smoothed back her hair and smiled as she sat beside him.

“Today, I want to play a game. May I blindfold you?” Claire asked as she pulled out a sleeping mask contraption.

“Sure, why not?” he replied. She rose and walked behind him, placing the material over his eyes.

“Today, I want to talk about trust. Can you trust me enough to lead you through the hospital?” Claire asked pleasantly.

Frowning, he sat still, wondering if he wanted to participate in her little charade.

“Listen to my voice, Ryder. It’s an exercise. You don’t have to do it. It’s your choice,” she assured him quietly.

“I don’t see a point in playing some stupid game,” he answered her gruffly.

Claire touched him and he felt an electrifying sensation run up his arm and into his chest.

“Sometimes, when we deny ourselves one of our senses, we tune into another one more. If you don’t feel comfortable, we can stop at any time. I don’t want you to force this, nor will I take away your choices.”

He swallowed and nodded. Claire took his hand and led him outside the office and down the stairs. Ryder felt the silky skin of her arm brush against him as they entered the hall. The sounds of the residents reached his ears, but it seemed like she led him away from the noise.

“We’re stepping down six stairs now.” She counted them as her other hand gripped his arm to offer support.

The wind blew, and the smell of her hair wafted beneath his nose. The scent of lavender hit him first, then jasmine. No. The jasmine came from her perfume.

“Ryder? Stay with me,” her voice calmed him as they walked away from the sounds of the daily activities. She leaned down, grabbed something from the ground before proceeding, and then stopped.

“Ryder, I’m letting go of your arm. Please focus on my voice and follow my directions.” He felt her fingers glide over his arms slowly. The burn on her hand from the fireplace scraped him lightly as the scorched skin skimmed his. She moved away from him, taking away his sense of peace. Ryder measured the distance between them by the loss of her scent, plunging him back to the barren land and the emptiness around him.

Panic hit him as he suddenly felt alone with the bodies of his friends surrounding him. Gunner lay before him, his gaze permanently focused on the sky above them.

“Claire?” he bit out her name as he swiped the sweat from his lip.

“I’m right here, Ryder. What do you see?”

“I see Gunner and the men from my team. Gunner ordered me to let go of the tourniquet. The bullet nicked an artery, and we knew he didn’t have long. He was my best friend,” he heard the sorrow guttering his voice.

“Did he say anything to you?”

Ryder concentrated on the sounds around them. She didn’t veer to the right to follow their usual path; she went to the left. His heart beat faster and a ringing echoed in his ears. Were they in the woods?

The stillness between the trees struck him as odd. Yet he smelled the evergreens. A far change from the desert sand and the few scraggy trees he saw.

“He talked about Patty and the kids. He left a letter for them in case something happened.” He licked his lips and his chest felt like someone sat on it.

“He was your best friend. Gunner knew you better than anyone. Did he say anything to you?” she spoke softly and he attempted to discover her location.

“He said to live a life worthy of all of them,” he whispered.

“Did he sound mad? Upset? Did he blame you?” She walked closer to him. The scent of her jasmine perfume returned as she grew closer.

Ryder shook his head. “No, he sounded resigned. He told me he would find a way to alert them to my whereabouts,” he confessed to her.

“How did you feel? Did you give up hope? Did you feel angry at him?” she pressed.

He stilled as he processed the feelings he shoved down deep in his gut. “I wanted to die with them,” Ryder whispered. “I failed them one by one. They called me Patch because I rigged things to work until help arrived. I didn’t have anything, no water, no supplies and no ideas on how to save them.” His voice cracked as he yanked off the blindfold and threw it to the ground. “I’m done. I don’t want to rehash the worst day of my entire life. I deserved to die with them. It’s my fault they suffered. The poor kid, Shortstack, he barely turned nineteen, gripped my vest, begging me to help him and I couldn’t.”

“Sometimes, we can’t control what happens to us in life. It happens for no reason. A drunk driver kills a poor mom. Dads get hit by buses on the way to work. They have no control. Just like you didn’t.”

“I did have control. Gunner waited until I went to sleep to order the patrol to find supplies. I was the strongest one out in the field. They suffered wounds. I barely showed a scratch until they attacked us in the morning. I should’ve gone in search of supplies. Instead, he left with already wounded men. If he had waited, some of them might’ve made it. Because I slept, my brothers died,” he yelled at her.

“Or you might’ve died and left them without any medical expertise at all. Their injuries went beyond basic first aid or combat care. They called you Patch because you rigged things none of the others thought of,” she softly pointed out.

“But it didn’t happen that way.” He grabbed her by both arms and held on for dear life. “I let them down. I didn’t save a single one,” he shouted. “It’s all my fault.” He pushed her away, making her step back to keep from falling on her bottom.

She reached for him. Her eyes pooled with unshed tears. “It happened because Gunner made the call, not you.”

“I failed them. Then, they saved me minutes after he slipped away. Why didn’t they arrive sooner? Huh? Why do I deserve to live while they rot in some stupid grave in a military cemetery and their families receive empty awards for their sacrifice to this country? What the hell?”

She stepped closer. “They knew the risks, the same as you.”

“You think that makes me feel better as I watched them slowly bleed out or yell in agonizing pain? I didn’t have anything to treat the charred skin on their faces and chests.

“What could you have done differently?”

He shook his head. His heart pounded in his chest. The sounds of gunfire echoed in his ear. Ryder clenched his hands into fists. “I don’t fucking know, all right. I tried everything. Nothing worked. Then I woke up in the hospital and they handed me a damn medal. For what? For me to feel better? I don’t feel anything,” he bellowed. “I hope to wake up one day and finally have the strength to pull the damn trigger.” His angry gaze found hers as they narrowed and zeroed in on him.

Claire stepped toward him. Sorrow showed in her eyes, enraging him.

“I’m done. I don’t want to do this anymore. I have an exit plan and it sure feels good to know I’ll have the option. You can’t save me, Claire. I’m your biggest failure. I appreciate your help, but I’m done.”

Ryder turned and walked away. His chest threatened to explode. Damn it, why didn’t she keep it all light and fluffy? Gunner’s voice echoed in his head.

She got too close. It’s not your fault, brother.

But Gunner didn’t see the devastation in Patty’s eyes. The misery on his kid’s faces when Uncle Ryder showed up without their dad. He stomped his way back to his cabin. Throwing his bedroom door open, he located his bag and threw it on the bed. Ryder went to the closet, jerked the clothes from the hangers and stuffed them inside. Gunner’s voice refused to stop.

If you leave, she can’t help you. You need to live a life worthy of all of us. If you fail, we died for nothing.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” he yelled into the empty room. Blindly reaching for the closet, he dragged himself inside, hoping it quieted the voices in his head. “I can’t do this anymore. Don’t you understand? My life isn’t worth saving,” he sobbed into the empty closet.

Curling into a ball on the cot, he continued to bellow out the pain he held inside for the last eighteen months. The anguish of the death of his best friend, the helplessness of watching them suffer from burns, unable to relieve the pain, viewing the empty chair at the wedding, knowing his brother should’ve witnessed his daughter’s marriage or passed out cigars at the birth of his little girl, not him. Why didn’t they accept they saved the wrong person?

Two hours later, the closet door opened, and Whiskey walked inside. He sat on the floor, not speaking.

“I can’t stay here anymore. Use your resources on someone who can benefit from them. I’m too far gone, Whiskey,” he implored quietly.

Whiskey nodded. “I understand. I remember the feeling. You’ll pack your bags and leave. Maybe not the first day, but you’ll return home and think the piece of steel in your hand will solve all your problems. You’ll stop feeling the rage, trauma, and helplessness. Did you stop to think of what you left behind?”

Ryder sat up and arched his brow toward Whiskey. “I don’t have any family. My friends died. No one will mourn me,” he admitted quietly. “By the week’s end, my apartment will be up for rent and it’ll be like I never existed or returned from hell.”

“What about the soldier you befriended here? You never ask for his name but watch for him at the meetings. You give him a chin lift when he accomplishes something. Scott searches for you when he walks into a room. If you give up, what chance does he stand? Or will he follow you? Then there’s Chase and Kassie, who invest their time and energy into this place to make you feel welcome and become a part of something bigger than any of us. If you give up, the little redhead will wonder what more she should’ve done. Chase will obsess over his notes and his wife. Claire will blame herself because she wanted you to trust her. She’ll think she waited too long.”

Ryder’s face scrunched at the thought of Claire. He didn’t want her to think she failed. If truth be known, he anticipated their meetings. She understood his need to work with his hands while they chatted. Hell, who would help her fix up her monstrosity of a house before she maimed herself?

He pinned Whiskey with a stare. “You know they’ve done everything. Claire sent you here, didn’t she?”

Whiskey chuckled as he shook his head. “Your team did everything to save you. Tex brought you here for us to rescue you. Claire didn’t send me. The button came on in the office indicating you needed help. Maybe it’s time to figure out what you can do to save yourself.” Standing, he squeezed Ryder’s shoulder before leaving him alone.

His gaze fell to the end of the cot where the sign sat and the button to call someone remained attached to the wall. No light showed. Yet, Whiskey said it came on in the office someone manned twenty-four hours a day. What were the odds of Whiskey sitting in the room? He shook his head and held it between his knees resting his elbows on his thighs.

“Did you turn it on, Gunner? You always believed in signs from the afterlife. Fine. I’ll work on it. But I don’t want to work on it with Claire. You probably orchestrated her getting burned by the fire, so I would walk into her bathroom full of all her lacy underthings. You’re a bastard, you know that? I can’t stop picturing her in the pink thong and embroidered bra. Did you check out her ass? She loves running, too. She sucks at fixing shit. How can a woman with a doctorate not know how to use a screwdriver?”

He laughed at himself for talking into the empty room. No doubt Gunner pushed him to keep going because Gunner’s voice always appeared when he held the gun to his head and talked him down until he didn’t have the strength to pull the trigger.

Standing in the small space, he took a deep breath and went to find Dr. Winters. Doc said they gave him choices, and he planned to hold them to it.