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)
“You definitely cut a few seconds off,” Damon called back—easy, relaxed, a rumble of gentle encouragement in the words. “You did good, Kennison.”
The boy—Kennison—grinned wide, flushing with pleasure and pumping his fist in Damon’s direction; Damon draped one arm over the chain link fence, deftly avoiding the spiked prongs and leaning lightly against it while he raised his other hand in a wave of acknowledgment. That arm felt like it was invading Rian’s territory, violating the nebulous barrier between them, and he wasn’t sure why he so desperately needed to keep it in place.
But he did.
So he took another step back, putting more space between them—but he couldn’t seem to look away from Damon; away from the fond, almost sweet expression on that hard-chiseled face, softening and transforming it.
Nor could he seem to stop himself from murmuring, “They really respect you, you know.”
“That’s not what it’s about,” Damon answered absently, never taking his eyes from the next group of boys to line up at the start of the course. “I’m not trying to make them respect me.”
“Then what’s it about? What are you trying to make them do?”
“That’s just it,” Damon said. “I’m not trying to make them do anything.” His gaze slid to Rian sidelong, watching him through the veil of his lashes, but it was more than just those sooty black curves that shuttered his gaze to cool neutrality. “Most people will do things right if you give them a chance, instead of making sure they know you’re waiting for them to fuck up.”
“Damon Louis, an optimist and believer in human nature,” Rian said. “Who’d have thought.”
“I think most people are fairly decent.” The corner of Damon’s mouth quirked. “Only one who gets on my nerves is you.”
Rian hated how that stung. How from the very first moment, Damon seemed to have Rian’s nerves quite well in hand, plucking and pulling at them in little jerks until Rian was just an impulsive burst of emotions and temper and ill-advised words.
So he tried not to react—with irritation, with hurt, with the mess of things he couldn’t explain as he offered a neutral, “I’ve noticed that.”
No answer.
Just that guarded look lingering, as if to ask, Why are you still here?
Rian didn’t have an answer for that.
Which meant it was time to leave.
But as he took another step back, with another glance for the boys, he added, “...you really do talk to them like they’re your own sons. That’s...not a bad thing. Considering how many of them have just been abandoned here. They probably need that. Need you.”
“Maybe.” Grudging, and Damon ducked his head, making a gruff sound. “It’s not really me. Some people just want to feel like they’re a part of something. Some people never had that, you know? So I just want to make sure they do. They don’t need me for that. They just need a place to belong.”
Oh, Rian thought. Oh.
Some people never had that.
Rian didn’t...didn’t think Damon was just talking about the boys.
Not with how raw and hurt his voice had been, when he’d talked about being adopted and feeling like he’d been ejected from the world he belonged in and into one that would never accept him, leaving nowhere that was meant for just Damon.
Nowhere that would accept Damon just as he was.
This felt like things Rian was never meant to know. Things he shouldn’t know about a near-stranger; a near-stranger who made it painfully clear that Rian was a nuisance to him and nothing more. Things that shouldn’t make him feel this lonely, aching need to just...just...
Reach out.
No.
Not when he would only get his hand slapped away.
So he only took another step back. Then another, and another, until he could no longer feel Damon on the air between them and he could breathe without being smothered in the thickly embracing aura of warmth the man gave off, when that warmth wasn’t for Rian and never would be.
“Tomorrow afternoon,” was all he said. “Last bell. I’ll make it quick.”
He didn’t wait to see if Damon would respond. Didn’t wait for another cutting remark, or another cool look that made Rian feel smaller than small.
He just turned and walked away, following that glimmering pale path back up the hill.
This space, this field, with these boys who looked up to Damon so much...
This wasn’t Rian’s place.
And he knew better than to stay where he didn’t belong.
Chapter Six
Damon had been right.
There was absolutely no reason for him to be here.
And he felt completely out of place, sitting in this classroom full of delicate paintings and spangly works of wire art and soft-glazed pottery in pastel colors, while the sunlight mingled with those stained-glass light covers to make the entire room shimmer like it fell under a waterfall of golden coins.
He felt too big.
Too awkward.
And like he should be anywhere else but here, as he leaned against Rian’s desk and folded his arms over his chest, waiting in silence while Merry Valdez looked between them with curiously skeptical black eyes, his mouth twisted cynically sideways.