Free From the Damage 1 - Opposites Attract by Jasmine Denton, Genna Page B

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.
    “Man, you’re not going to believe this. I’m at Jake’s house, and I just saw Peyton giving this dude a lap dance.”
    Gage clamped his hand into a fist. “You’re kidding me.”
    “No, I’m right here, watching it. You want me to stop her?”
    “Keep an eye on her. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
    “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Shane said. “Not a good idea, bro. You’ll kill ‘em both. Let me take care of this.”

    “She’s my wife. I’ll take care of it. Just don’t let her out of your sight.” With that, Gage stabbed the hang-up button and put in a call to Sarah, begging her to watch Lizzie for an hour.
    During the ten-minute drive to Jake’s party, Gage clenched the steering wheel so hard he thought it would snap. He knew why Peyton was acting out; he knew why she felt she couldn’t be a mother or wife. But her behavior had caused him to stop caring about the