Chapter 22: Riley

We ordered food earlier, and when it arrives, I bring her a container of soup and some warm bread. She sits up in bed, looking a bit uncertain, but when I hand her the food, she accepts it gratefully. We’re all gathered around her, probably crowding her too much, but I can’t help it. I want to be close, to make sure she’s okay. Each of us seems to feel the same way, hovering near her, watching her with expressions I’m sure are bordering on obsessive.

She’s still wearing my shirt and jogging pants. The shirt is way too big, hanging off her shoulders, the collar slipping down just enough to expose a little of her collarbone, a hint of the bruise that curves around her neck. The sight sends a jolt through me. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help noticing how she looks in my clothes, the fabric clinging to her in ways that make it hard to breathe.

She doesn’t have a bra on. I catch the faint outline of the side of her breasts beneath the shirt, and I have to look away, taking a steadying breath. It’s not the time, and it sure as hell isn’t appropriate. Not with her hurt like this. But there’s something about seeing her in my clothes, looking so delicate and yet so resilient, that twists something deep inside me.

I glance at the others and catch Leo’s gaze. He looks almost mesmerized, his eyes glued to her as she eats. Danny is pretending to focus on his phone, but I can see the way his gaze drifts back to her every few seconds. Even Nate, who’s normally so composed, looks a bit lost, his eyes trailing over her face, taking in every bruise, every detail.

After a while, she looks up, curiosity flashing in her eyes. “So, do you all live here? Is this… someone’s room?”

I nod, leaning back a bit to give her some space. “Yeah, we all live here. We’ve been together for a long time, so it just made sense.”

She pauses, looking around, taking in the details of the room. “Whose room is this?”

“It’s Riley’s,” Leo says before I can respond, smirking a bit. “He got the nicest one.”

She smiles faintly, and I feel something loosen in my chest. Seeing her smile, even just a little, feels like a win. “It’s nice. Cozy, even,” she says, and I can tell she means it. There’s something about the way she’s looking at us, a hint of trust mixed in with the caution. She still doesn’t know what to make of us, and I don’t blame her. We’ve been sending her mixed signals since day one.

“Would you like to see the rest of the house?” Danny asks, standing up and offering her his hand.

She hesitates but then nods, letting him help her out of bed. I can tell she’s a little shaky, and a part of me wants to scoop her up right then and there, but I let her walk on her own, giving her space to feel a bit more in control.

We start with the living room, Danny leading the way, talking about the pool table we have set up in one corner and the massive TV where we watch games and movies. She glances around, taking it all in, but I can see the doubt in her eyes. She’s still not sure if she belongs here, if she’s safe here.

“This place is like a fortress,” she says, her voice soft. “I mean, it’s nice, but it feels… like you’ve planned for anything.”

Nate chuckles, a little self-deprecating. “That’s the idea. We don’t like to take chances.”

We move into the kitchen next, and I watch as her eyes widen at the fully stocked fridge, the sleek countertops, and the rows of cabinets filled with supplies. “You could survive a week in here without leaving,” she comments, sounding almost impressed.

“That’s the plan,” I reply with a grin. “It comes in handy when things get… complicated.”

She seems to understand, nodding slowly, and we continue the tour, showing her the different bedrooms, the garage, and the small gym we’ve set up in the basement. She’s handling it all pretty well, but I can see her swaying slightly as we make our way back upstairs.

As we approach my room, she stumbles, and without thinking, I reach out, catching her just in time. “Easy,” I say, steadying her. “Maybe we’ve overdone it a bit.”

She looks up at me, her face pale but determined. “I’m fine. I just… I need a little rest.”

“Then let’s get you back to bed,” I say, scooping her up before she can protest. She’s light in my arms, and she rests her head against my chest, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. It’s such a small thing, but it feels like everything. I carry her back to the bed and tuck her in, pulling the blankets up around her shoulders.

The guys gather around, each of us finding a way to make sure she’s comfortable. Leo reaches for her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. Danny brushes a strand of hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear. Nate pulls the comforter up a little higher, making sure she’s snug and warm. I rest my hand on her hip, feeling the soft rise and fall of her breathing as she drifts off.

It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep, her breathing evening out as she sinks into the pillow. We stay with her, each of us finding comfort in these small gestures, these quiet moments that feel more significant than anything else. I don’t know what comes next, but right now, this is enough. It has to be.

We linger in her room a while longer, each of us reluctant to leave. Nate checks her breathing and her pulse every few minutes, his fingers light on her wrist, his face tense until he feels the steady beat beneath his fingertips. The rest of us glance at each other, silently agreeing that it’s probably time to give her some space. We’ve crowded her enough for one day.

“Let’s give her a break,” I finally say, nodding toward the door. “She needs to rest.”

We step back, one by one, but none of us head to our own rooms. It feels wrong to be too far away, just in case she wakes up and can’t find us. So instead, we gravitate toward the living room, sprawling out on the couches and lounging chairs, each of us finding a spot where we can keep an ear out for her.

Leo pulls out his phone, scrolling aimlessly, and Danny follows suit, his thumb flicking over the screen. Nate stays quiet, stretching out on one of the couches, his gaze fixed on the hallway leading back to her room. I know he’s thinking the same thing we all are—if she wakes up and needs anything, we’ll be here. No matter what, we’ll be here.

One by one, we start to drift off, the adrenaline from earlier finally wearing off as exhaustion takes over. I lean back, my eyes heavy, and soon enough, the silence settles around us, the only sound the steady rhythm of our breathing as we each slip into sleep.