From the Damage 1 - Opposites Attract (8 page)

“There was nothing funny about it.” Ryder shifted in his seat. “The bitch was psychotic.”

Gage whirled to his feet and crossed the room. “You’re about to see psychotic.”

“Let’s see it.” Ryder shoved out of his chair. “Come on, chickenshit! Bring it!”

Gage grabbed Ryder’s shirt in a jolty movement.

“Wait! Just hold on a second!” Standing to her feet, Kelly caused the whole room to fall silent. “Ryder, this isn’t a joke. Gage could go to
jail
for this.”

“That’s right, man. You’re on probation,” Ryder taunted. “So come on and take a swing at me and get yourself locked up. I’m sure those boys in prison will find you real purdy.”

“If you’re so convinced you can take me, why don’t you make your move, you asshole?”

“Oh, I can take you, alright—”

Gage scowled and turned away.

“I should have known you aren’t man enough.” Ryder let out a vicious cackle.

“You can’t even defend your women.”

Gage spun around and grabbed Ryder’s shirt, then reared his fist back, ready to let it fly off, without thinking of probation or Lizzie.

Right at that moment, while the rest of the group was either gasping or laughing or cheering at the thought of an impending brawl, the door to the left opened, and Daphne strolled in, carrying her briefcase. She stopped, looking at the guys who’d stood from their seats, the girls who cowered in theirs, and Gage, ready to blow everything. “Whoa! What’d I miss?”

Gage dropped his fist, still keeping it clutched tight, and backed away slowly.

“You’d know if you’d been here on time.”

“I am here on time. I wanted to give you guys a chance to talk.” She glanced at Ryder, who reeled from the fear. “But maybe that was a mistake.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Ryder scowled and dropped down into his chair.

Daphne took out a tape recorder and set it up to record. “Does anyone want to tell me what happened?”

“Just a testosterone fest,” Carmen said as Daphne took her seat. “Something to do with the school shooting.”

Gage shot Carmen a deadly scowl. “Hey, you stick to what you know, alright?”

“Gage,” Daphne warned, “try to control yourself.”

He bit his lip to keep from mouthing off to her too. Fixing his eyes on the clock, he started to count down the minutes until he could leave.

“What about the school shooting?” She looked at Ryder.

“I’m sick of his shit.” Ryder crossed his arms. “He walks around pissed at the world, but it’s all his fault the shooting ended the way it did. It’s
his
fault his girlfriend died.”

“What makes you think that?”

“The police almost had her talked down—”

Gage spoke up. “They did not! They weren’t getting anywhere with her.”

“And now they never will, will they?”

“I swear, if I have to hear your mouth—”

“Why are you so pissed at me? You’re the one who got your girlfriend killed, buddy, not me.”

“She wasn’t my girlfriend, she was my wife!” Gage thrust to his feet as the room fell utterly silent. He glared at Ryder, then Daphne, and then he took off.

“Gage!” Daphne called after him, but he didn’t stop. He ran out to his car and then sped away, fighting the tears.

Back in the room, Kelly glowered at Ryder. “Are you happy now, asshole?”

“How was I supposed to know?”

“You’re so insensitive. What the hell is your problem?”

“Hey, the bitch tried to shoot me. Why should I care who she was?”

Daphne raised her hands in the air. “Okay, okay! Everybody calm down.”

Kelly turned the scowl at Meagan. “Is that enough drama for you?”

Her mouth dropped. “What did I do?”

“You started the whole fight!”

“Children! Do I have to make you sit in the corner?” Daphne raised her voice only enough to be heard.

Kelly settled into her seat and stared at her shoes.

“Why are you so protective of the guy?” Ryder asked.

“Because there are things about him you don’t know.” Kelly thought of the little girl she’d seen. “He’s got a good heart.”

“Whatever.”

“Well, that sure was an interesting way to kick off the session.” Daphne crossed her legs and leaned forward. “But Gage isn’t here anymore, so let’s talk about something else. Ryder, do you want to talk about the shooting?”

He shook his head.

“I’ll go,” Carmen said.

“Great. Carmen, what’s on your mind?”

“I had another fight with my sister last night.”

Daphne tilted her head. “What was the fight about?”

She stood up and began to pace. “That’s the thing. I don’t know. I just have these mood swings that kick in out of nowhere and make me so upset. And then I just blow up at her for no reason.”

“And nothing triggers them?”

Carmen shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Your life’s been in turmoil lately,” Daphne said softly. “When you fight with your sister, who are you thinking about?”

Carmen paused in thought, cutting her gaze to meet Daphne’s as her lips started to tremble.

“I was just thinking that...well, maybe you act like you’re mad at your sister when you’re really angry with your mother.”

Carmen slowly sank into her seat. “It would make sense.”

Daphne nodded in agreement.

“Maybe.” She stood up again, unable to sit still. “Is it always going to be like this? Am I always going to feel that…that uncontrollable rage?”

“I don’t think so,” Daphne said gently. “With therapy, and time, it will get easier to control that anger.”

***

After the meeting, when Daphne got into her car, she rewound and played the tape she’d recorded.

Gage spoke up. “They did not! They weren’t getting anywhere with her.”

“And now they never will, will they?”

“I swear, if I have to hear your mouth—”

“Why are you so pissed at me? You’re the one who got your girlfriend killed, buddy, not
me.”

“She wasn’t my girlfriend, she was my wife!”

Letting out an exhausted groan, she rested her head against the steering wheel.

She really had her work cut out for her.

She flipped through her files until she found Gage’s and looked up his address. It took her fifteen minutes to get there, and she prayed she wouldn’t get her head bitten off by his sharp tongue when she knocked on the door.

He answered, balancing a baby on his hip.

She tried not to stare in shock at the little girl as she stepped into the apartment.

She held out the papers she’d brought as an excuse. “I handed these out after you left.”

“Thanks.” He took them and sat down on the couch, placing the baby gently on his knee.

“You’re welcome.” Cautiously, she sat down in the chair. “I hope you’re planning on coming back on Friday.”

“I don’t know.” He leaned back and shook his head. “I don’t know if I can see that punk’s face and control my temper.”

“I understand that, but to him, your wife was a perpetrator. The shooting was very traumatic for him.”

“I lost more than he did.”

“I know.” She smiled when the baby giggled and threw herself onto Gage’s shoulder. “She’s beautiful. What’s her name?”

“Thank you.” He grinned. “This is Lizzie, my guardian angel.”

“Why don’t you ever talk about her?”

“Because she has nothing to do with anything. She’s not a problem.” He rested his head against Lizzie’s. “She’s a lifesaver.”

“I can see how she can save a life.” She folded her hands together. “How long ago did you lose your wife, Gage?”

“It feels like it’s been forever,” he said, absentmindedly smoothing his thumb over his wedding band, “but it’s only been about three months.”

“The cops were questioning you about it, and that’s why you lost it on them?”

He nodded. “They kept badgering me—asking me where she’d gotten the gun or how I couldn’t have seen it coming.” His eyes clouded over as tears welled up, but he blinked them back and took a deep breath until he’d reeled the emotions in. “I didn’t have answers for them. I have no idea where she got the gun, and I don’t know why I never saw it coming...how was I supposed to have foreseen the shooting? How could I have possibly known that was going to happen?”

Daphne’s heart went out to him, and she wished there was something she could do to help, but she didn’t know what that would be. “You’ve had to grow up really fast, Gage, and that can make somebody cold and bitter, even eventually destructive. That’s why it’s important for you to come back to group. If you don’t, you’ll be breaking your probation, and you could go to jail. And what will happen to Lizzie then?”

“I know. I just…” He sighed. “I don’t want to talk. I want to move on with my life. I want to get out of this town and start over...for Lizzie.”

“Have you thought about where you’re going to go?”

“Anywhere—as long as they haven’t heard about Peyton or the shooting. I mean, Peyton killed two people that day.” He looked her straight in the eye. “I can’t let Lizzie grow up with that hanging over her head. I don’t need people telling her that her mother was a...a murderer.”

She chewed on her bottom lip while she thought. “Well, you’re probation ends in two months, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” she said. “I have a friend who owns a garage in Charlotte, an upscale place with benefits. His wife works at a private daycare service, specializing in cheap but quality daycare for single parents. Are you interested?”

“It sounds perfect. Too perfect. What’s the catch?”

“You have to keep coming to group, with an open mind, and let it help you.”

“Okay, but even if I did that, your friends aren’t going to want anything to do with me. I have a criminal record.”

“Please! So you punched out a window after your wife was killed. That hardly makes you criminal.”

“Why would you do that for me?”

“Because you deserve it.”

He looked down at Lizzie then back up at Daphne. “You’ll really do this? You won’t flake out on me?”

“I won’t flake out on you. I promise.”

He reached out to shake her hand. “Then we have a deal.”

The relief washed over her because she truly wanted to help every kid in her group. “You won’t regret it.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“That first day, you said you were messed up too. What happened?”

She looked down at the floor for a minute before she answered. “In high school, I met this boy. He was the most gorgeous person I’d ever met, and he wanted me.” She clutched her hands together to keep them from shaking. “It started with a fight. He punched me. When he said it’d never happen again, I believed him. It took two years, a marriage, and countless beatings for me to realize that it never would.”

“That’s rough.”

“Yeah.”

“You bounced back from that though. A lot of women don’t.”

She nodded. “Too many. That’s why, if I can help just one person, I’ll die happy.”

“That’s very…valiant of you.”

She beamed a smile. “Did Gage just give me a compliment?”

He fought a grin. “Don’t get used to it.”

***

After the group meeting, Meagan jogged to catch up with Ryder, but he wouldn’t slow down. He kept walking with quick, agitated strides, and she knew something was upsetting him. Reaching out, she grabbed his wrist so he would stop and look at her. “Ryder, what’s going on? You’ve seemed distant ever since that argument with Gage.”

He shook his head, pulling away from her. “Meagan, I just can’t talk about it, okay?”

“Why not?” She reached out, touching his shoulder. “You can tell me anything—

you know that.”

He sighed, his gaze meeting hers in a look that showed her how torn he was.

Looking around the parking lot, he saw Daphne heading for her van. “Come on,” he said, taking Meagan’s hand. “Let’s talk in my car.” But even when they climbed into his car, he was quiet, staring down at the dark speedometer like it held answers.

“Ryder, what is it?” she asked, reaching out and placing her hand on his knee.

“You’ll feel better if you just let it out.”

“It’s about Gage,” he said, his words barely above a whisper. “It’s about why we don’t get along. He doesn’t know me, but I know him.”

Meagan had always sensed there was something deeper than your average alpha male fight going on between the two. “What is it?”

“I did something...to him,” he said, his voice shaking as he continued to gaze at the dashboard. “That’s why I’m in this support group. It’s not really because of the shooting. It’s because I did something
horrible
.”

“What did you do?” she asked, feeling a mix of fear and concern and anxiety.

She couldn’t picture Ryder doing anything horrible; he was Knight Ryder, the guy who broke up fights and protected the helpless. How could he have done something as bad as he was making it sound?

“If I tell you,” he said, finally raising his dark brown eyes to meet her bright green ones, “you need to swear you won’t tell anybody.
Ever
.”

≈≈≈

After Daphne left, Gage let out a slow breath to calm his heart rate. He hated talking about Peyton. He hated thinking about her. He hated her.

But she was always there—a ghost of pain that followed him wherever he went.

In the mornings, when he rolled over in bed to squeeze in a few more precious minutes of sleep, he could swear he saw her brown curls spread over the pillow next to his. It was moments like that that kept him sleeping on the left side of the bed.

Of course, he’d gotten used to sleeping without Peyton. She was never really there. She lived in constant emotional pain, and the pain kept her out at all hours searching for a numbing substance. While Gage waited in front of a cooling dinner and stared at Peyton’s untouched plate, she was out partying. She’d come home at night, her blouses wrinkled, her hair tangled, reeking of booze or pot smoke or God only knows what else, and then expect him to believe her when she said she was only out for a walk.

Then, one night, while he was staring at another plateful of food that would end up the trash, he got a phone call from Shane. Gage heard the background party noise first, then Shane’s slurred voice rolled through the phone.