Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 118125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
“And to know Chris is going to be fine.”
“Fuck, I wish—well, wishing won’t fix shit.” Damon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fucking kids. This didn’t have to go this far, but...”
“They do that. Try to fix things themselves and then just make a bigger mess.” Rian peeked up at Damon with a smile. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling, his chest feeling like it was full of too much air and he was going to float away on it, this happy sailing balloon of Rian. “Not like I know what that feels like.”
Damon lifted his head, thoughtful brown eyes drifting to Rian, nearly black in the night-locked shadows of the hall. “Seems like maybe you could do with a little talking, too.”
“I...yeah.” Rian darted his tongue over his lips, his racing heart giving a little twist. “We should—”
He didn’t get a chance to finish, as his phone rang in his back pocket. He sighed, trailing into a groan. “Timing,” he muttered, but he couldn’t risk missing it, when it might just be Chris’s parents calling back at an opportune time. So he fished it out, thumb hovering over the answer button...only to freeze as he saw the number on the screen.
585 area code.
Rochester.
“Wrong parents,” he muttered, his flittering heart going still, clutching into a small motionless anxious knot.
“You gonna answer that?” Damon asked softly.
“Can’t tell Chris not to hide his problems if I hide from mine, right?” Rian whispered, but his throat was tight, closing in on itself, and he looked up at Damon, lower lip trembling. “Hold my hand?”
“I’ll do you one better,” Damon said—and then Rian was suddenly in Damon’s arms again, pulled against his chest. Rian’s heart refused to beat, but Damon’s beat steady and firm enough for them both, and Rian hid himself against Damon’s warmth, clutching at him with his free hand.
“Thank you,” he whispered, and Damon kissed the top of his head.
“Answer it. It’ll be okay.”
God, he hoped Damon was right.
So Rian tapped the call right before it went to voicemail, catching it at the last second, his stomach tightening as he lifted it to his ear. “Hello...?”
“The shock may be too much for my heart,” his mother lilted pleasantly. “He actually answers the phone.”
He smiled faintly. “Sorry. I’ve... I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to check your voicemail?”
Wincing, Rian closed his eyes and thudded his forehead to Damon’s chest; Damon answered by tightening those strong, protective arms around him, warm hands smoothing down his arms.
“...avoiding my voicemail,” he admitted, and outright flinched at the hurt note in his mother’s voice.
“Why, dear?”
“The last time we talked...” Rian bit his lip. “You asked when I was coming home. If I was still working at ‘that place,’ and when I was coming home.”
“Oh,” his mother said faintly. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“I mean you said when, not if,” Rian said. “And you’ve been acting like you just don’t understand why I’d want to be on my own instead of letting you make my whole life easy. Like it was just...like I’d get tired of this silly little experiment and come running back. And I don’t want to. I like it here. I like working, I like... I like the life I have.” His fingers tightened, clenching in the front of Damon’s shirt. “But you never even asked me that. You just assumed I wouldn’t be fine out here on my own. And you made me feel so...so small, when you did it.”
Silence, on the other end of the line, then, “...have you really not answered the phone for nearly eight months because I said something so careless?”
“I...yes...?”
“Oh, Rian. Dearest, I’m so sorry.” His mother sighed. “I thought if you wanted to stay, you’d simply say so. I’ve never thought you wouldn’t be all right. You’re delicate, but resilient. You always have been. I’ve been worried, of course. A mother does worry. But I never meant to hurt you with that worry, and I wish you’d said something sooner so I could apologize. Really, my love...if you’re happy, then I’m happy.”
Rian flushed and tried to nearly melt into Damon, as if he could merge with him by osmosis and just hide. “Then...then why have you kept calling?”
“If you’d listen to your voicemail, you’d know that,” she answered with tart humor. “One, you’re my son, and I don’t think it’s particularly unreasonable or unbelievable that your mother would like to know you’re alive. Two, your father’s birthday is next month, and he would like to see you before he’s too much older. Can you come?”
“Oh, God.” Rian groaned. He really was as bad as Chris—making something out of nothing, taking too much on himself and just...assuming too much.
And he really needed to stop.
But right now he didn’t want to stop smiling, as he settled closer in Damon’s arms. “I can probably make it, if it’s on a weekend or during a holiday break. And maybe...there’s someone I’d like to bring home for you to meet.”