Page 73 of Riot’s Revenge

I folded my arms immediately. “You were bleeding everywhere.”

His mouth twitched faintly like he wanted to smile, but the effort faded quickly beneath the exhaustion pulling at his face.

I looked down at the chart in my hands mostly to avoid looking directly at him. “You scared the hell out of me.” The honesty slipped out before I could stop it.

Riot went quiet for a moment before saying softly, “I’m sorry.”

That surprised me enough that I finally looked back up. There was no defensiveness in his expression. No irritation or frustration hiding behind sarcasm like there usually was whenever things got too emotional between us.

Riot shifted slightly against the pillows before immediately grimacing in pain.

“Don’t,” I warned automatically.

His mouth twitched again. “Bossy.”

“You got stabbed.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Not my favorite experience.”

Despite everything, a small laugh escaped me. The sound faded quickly once silence settled over the room again. Too much history sat between us to pretend things were okay, and neither of us seemed interested in hiding from that anymore.

Riot watched me carefully for a long moment before speaking again. “I fucked us up.”

I stayed quiet because there wasn’t really anything to say to that. I busied myself checking his IV, which thankfully he had left in.

“I kept thinkin’ if I ignored shit long enough, it’d sort itself out.” His gaze dropped briefly to his hands resting against the blanket. “Turns out that was a terrible fuckin’ plan.”

“You think?”

Another faint smile touched his mouth before disappearing again. “I didn’t understand why you were so hurt at first,” he admitted quietly. “That’s the fucked part.”

Something sharp stabbed through me at the confession, not because it hurt, but because I could hear how ashamed he was of it.

“I spent my whole life around club girls,” Riot continued slowly. “Women you drank with, fucked, then everybody moved on. Nobody cared. Nobody asked questions.” His eyes lifted back to mine. “Then there was you.”

My eyes and nose burned painfully, the lump in my throat was lodged no matter how many times I tried to swallow.

Riot looked at me like he was trying to force himself not to look away.

“I knew how to fuck you,” he said quietly. “Knew how to take care of you when things were easy. Bringing you food, sitting with you after shifts, fixing shit around the apartment.” His jaw tightened briefly. “I thought that was enough.” His voice dropped lower. “But I didn’t know how to be yours.”

The words hit harder than shouting ever could. There were no excuses hidden inside them. No attempt to shift blame or make me responsible for his choices. Just truth laid bare between us for the first time since everything fell apart.

I sat down slowly beside the bed before I trusted my legs not to give out beneath me. “You hurt me,” I whispered. “You made me feel stupid for loving you that much.”

Pain crossed his face immediately, worse somehow than the physical kind. “I know.”

“I loved you so much that I stopped protecting myself,” I admitted quietly. “Everything started revolving around you before I even realized it was happening.”

Riot swallowed hard but didn’t interrupt.

“When I walked into that room . . .” My voice nearly cracked again before I forced it steady. “It felt like every moment between us suddenly meant something different than I thought it did.”

“It didn’t,” Riot said immediately.

I looked up sharply.

His eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my chest ache. “Maria, none of that was fake.” His voice sounded rough now, strained with exhaustion and frustration. “You were the first thing I thought about when I woke up. First thing I looked for when I walked into the apartment.” His breathing slowed carefully through the pain in his shoulder. “Christ, I couldn’t even fuckin’ sleep right after you left.”