Purple Haze (Blue Dream Book 2) (9 page)

The new information blankets me with comfort I didn't realize I needed. I attempt to return the conversation back to what's on the table. “You've gotta be hungry. You didn't have any food before you left this morning.”

“You didn't either.”

“No, but I have a highly trained chef who can whip me up something while I'm working if necessary,” I playfully argue.

Ryder smirks. “Lucky you.”

We chuckle together and he lets go of my hand to choose something to eat. I know I shouldn't feel empty from the immediate loss of his touch, so I try my best to focus on something else.

After a couple bites, Ryder asks, “Do you have plans after work?”

“No.”

“How about we go to the movies?” He suggests as he wipes his fingers. “Not the fancy first date I would
like
to take you out on, but it's what I can afford.”

Impressed at how comfortable he is not only admitting the fact but owning it, I grin. “If there's something you wanna do, I can pay. I've got a job too. I make damn good money.”

“No way in hell am I going to let you pay for our first date.” The sternness in his voice is covered with a tease. “If I've gotta walk Big Mike's poodle for some extra cash to take you somewhere, I'll do it.”

“He's got a poodle?”

“Yeah, but not a toy poodle. One of the full sized ones. He named her Cotton.”

“Weird.”

With a shrug he changes the topic back. “Was that a yes, you'll go out with me?”

Giddiness unconsciously floods my answer, “Of course.”

Silence slips between us, but this time it's the strange comfortable one where you know it's enough to just be in the presence of the other person. Part of me is relieved at the easiness of this moment. Part of me is still terrified. Ten years is a long time not to know someone, only to instantly fall back in line damn near exactly where you originally left off. Katherine preached and encouraged me to find that passion again, to spring back to life. With Ryder around it naturally happens. His spirit unlocks mine like the gatekeeper with the only key to Heaven. Even after the dreadful ordeal should've permanently severed our connection, we're still bonded in a breathtaking manner. Maybe this is the real second chance we wanted, not the one we were pretending to take. I have to try. I floated by for years not really living. I owe it to myself to go after what I want. And that's Ryder Collins.

Ryder

Kara leans her thin frame against me and whispers, “Thanks again for the ride last night. Last time I don't drive myself to a party.”

I'm not sure if her decisions to return to her previous ways of life are bold or idiotic. In ways it takes a pair of nuts to attempt to live like you once did while alienating the things you used to find most exciting and depend heavily on. On the other hand repeating past actions seems to land you in past results, which is the last thing I want. Dating Presley for this past month could easily be considered repeating actions of the past if it wasn't for the fact it's nothing like it used to be. She doesn't have a curfew. There isn't
school
for us the next day. We don't have cliques or parents to answer to every day. We're the only people in this relationship. The way it should be. The way it should've been. Not to mention I don't pick what we do and then we do it. There's a give and take value we were missing before. It's one I'm growing to appreciate.

“How was I supposed to know there wouldn't be anything non-alcoholic there?” Kara continues to ramble despite the fact someone is in the front of the room explaining their tragedies.

I turn my head and give her a sarcastic look.

“Oh, shut up,” she nudges me in the side and folds her arms firmly against her chest.

To call us friends wouldn't be a complete misuse of the word. Despite my continued denial of breakfast foods and television, we talk at least once a week. Almost more like co-workers than friends. Most of the time it's about the overdue play date she's convinced herself we need, but occasionally it takes a deeper level. She'll send me lines contemplating her own worth. Confide in me the hollowness she can't cover up enough with her outlandish outfits. The confessions she leaks are often ones that are mirrored inside of me. Even with Presley back in my life there's habitual self-loathing that still occurs. Surprisingly there's still faint desires to fall into old, less than harmless routines. Smoking a cigarette because I'm frustrated. Hitting the blunt to make a movie funnier. Mixing a couple pills to hush the doubts for a decent night sleep. It's moments like that I don't loathe having Kara around. I need someone to understand what I'm going through besides Law.

“I was dipping into my son's college fund,” the man says in a melancholy tone. “Behind my wife's back...”

He continues to speak, but my attention is drawn elsewhere.

“Can you hold him for a minute?” Presley questions to me, our son moving uncontrollably in her arms. “I just need to put my heels on.”

She transfers him into my arms. “Come here wiggle monster.”

“Thank you.”

I offer her a smile seconds before there's a sharp tug on my hair. “Ou!”

“Yeah, he's in
that
stage now,” she refreshes my memory. “His teachers say he's the most handsy in the bunch. Whenever I go in there at lunch he's always trying to grab a hold of something.”

Hearing about our son makes me peck him with a kiss on the cheek. “You'll learn not everything is for your hands sooner or later.”

“Not soon enough,” Pres mumbles and grabs her clutch from the dresser.

“Like boobs. Those aren't typically for your hands any more. You have to wait for a few years before they are again.”

“Really, Ryder?”

Playfully I wink.

“Did you remember to grab cash for the babysitter?”

He wriggles and fusses in my arms to go back to hers. “I did.”

“Did you remember to set up automatic transfers to his college fund?” The question furrows my eyebrows and she snaps, “Ryder, you promised you would do that! What happened?”

What did happen? I quickly recall taking out cash from the ATM, but instead of heading for a bank, I ended up pulling into the driveway of a familiar run down home. The faded blue paint, the junk kicked around the yard, and the chain fence are all indicators I had no business being there. This house hadn't changed in the number of years I had been to it.

“I...”

Another memory of the front door opening to usher out an extreme thin female with sunken eyes and pale skin hits me. The money that should've been being used to build my son a future, to build more trust with my wife, I used to build myself an unnecessary high.

A sharp breath of air fills my lungs as the clapping for his story begins. While I slowly bang my hands together, I sink lower into my seat certain my brain had it wrong. I won't stumble back that direction. Hell, the original reason I did was to stifle the pain of losing Pres, so why would I need drugs if I have her again? Other than Noah, no my family life hasn't been revolutionized, but I don't fucking care. Noah is the only one from that fabricated lie known as my childhood that matters to me. He's the only one helping. Fighting to have a brother. Fighting to have an actual family. I don't need drugs to deal with that either.

Final words are said and group is dismissed, leaving me with an uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. I wouldn't do that to my own family. Maybe the old Ryder would, but not this one. Not the one who comes to these goddamn meetings. Not the one who has to piss in a cup and be prodded with needles. Not the one who would rather slit his own wrist than hurt the woman he loves again. I wouldn't do that. I couldn't. Could I?

Kara's voice infiltrates my thoughts. “....right?”

Realizing I missed the entire sentence, I attempt to shake them away. “What?”

Quickly she states, “Never mind. I'll text you later. Night, Ryder.”

Her instant disappearance is immediately explained by Law's presence. She doesn't enjoy sponsors. Says it's like having a babysitter or an extra parental figure and since she hates the ones she has, why would she want to add to it? While Law hasn't expressed his particular distaste for her, he doesn't hesitate to remind me of the dangers of our budding friendship. It doesn't seem to matter how many times I deny we're not that. He continues to nag.

Law wraps both hands around the back of the chair beside mine. “You alright?”

Uncertain I mutter, “I think so.”

He lifts an eyebrow.

Quietly I say, “I was just...my mind wandered off.”

“And?”

“And where it went bothered me.”

“And?”

“That's all.”

Law hums. “Hm. What were you thinking about?”

“Just my future.” I shrug. “Contemplating if there was any way I could end up like that last guy. Trying to reassure myself there's no way in hell I could end up strung out again.”

His large frame shifts on a sigh. “Nothing on this road is that black and white. Every day, every step, every moment is a choice. Some days those choices are simple. Obvious. Other times you're blindsided. Thrown off your guard. Unexpectedly nut punched with so much pain the only outlet to numb it seems to be the one that's been lurking, waiting for you to want to rely on it again. You don't wanna end up like that? You have to work at it. All the time. And when you feel like completely giving up is when it's going to matter the most. Remember that.”

Law's refresher course in the never ending hell I can't escape braces my arms against my chest.

“Other than letting Donnie's story get to you, everything good? You haven't called this week. Adjusting into your new lifestyle, finally?”

I slightly smile. “You could say that.”

“Work?”

“Possible promotion coming.”

“Congratulations.” My nod of thanks is followed with him asking, “Things with Noah?”

“The same. Weekly dinners. Not enjoyable quite yet, but I don't hate them as much.”

Law smirks and slips his hands in his pocket. “And Presley? How are things going with her?”

Just the sound of her name causes my cock to awaken. Between constantly being inside her and beside her, I'm not sure which part of me is more addicted. At times it feels it's equal, at others it's a battle for which of my senses will be satisfied first. I love every goddamn minute of it.

“Good.” I adjust myself. “Really good. We're going out tomorrow afternoon.”

“Good,” he echoes. “You seem happy, just...don't let your relationship become a crutch.”

His word choice tightens my jaw.

“Let it be an enhancement to the new person you're becoming not the foundation for becoming it.”

“Law-”

“I'm aware of how important this woman is to you. I remember you explaining to me what detaching yourself from her did to you. The effect it had on the choices you made, which is why I'm
advising
you to take this second chance with her differently. Remember the man you're working to become and let her be a part of that, not the reason for it, because if God forbid, things didn't work out a second time, it might be the very situation that leads you back the direction you so desperately don't want to go.”

I won't go back. I just won't. Being on this road with Pres will ensure it. She's not a crutch. She's so much more. She's a tool to help me keep on the right road. My compass. I'll always find my way back to her and she'll always point me north to where our future lays. Together.