Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 95019 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95019 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Ryan talked to Ty and Lance about his conversation with his parents, but I still feel like talking to Lance about this might be betraying his confidence.
“It’s healthy to talk to your friends about stuff that’s bothering you,” he reminds me. “But if we can’t talk about that, I can talk to you about how Ty prefers to fuck me.”
His attempt at cheering me up finally cracks through my armor. “I’ll pass on the latter. And as for Ryan, it’s been rough for him. I honestly don’t know how to cheer him up. He’s in a lot of pain, and it’s hard to see, you know?”
We glance over at Ryan, still hammering away on the roof. Seems like Dax is trying to tell him a joke, but Ryan forces a halfhearted smile. Such a simple thing, but it tears at my fucking soul.
Ryan finishes up on the panel he’s nailing into the frame before moving on to the other side of the roof, out of sight.
Lance turns to me with a sympathetic expression. “He just needs some time.”
I know, but saying that to myself a million times isn’t going to get rid of the anxiety that’s all twisted up inside me.
“He’ll be fine,” I say, surely sounding as fake as Ryan looked when he smiled at Dax. “Anyway, we’re heading over to see my parents after this. You and Ty wanna join us?”
“Aw, we already made plans with my parents tonight, but give me a heads-up next time, and we’ll make sure of it.”
I’m relieved to hear him say that because even though we’ve graduated, I wanna keep hanging with my guys.
Lance and I finish up with the debris in the wheelbarrow, and we’re about to start back to the house to help the other guys when a loud clang fills the air, followed by, “Holy fuck!” from Ryan.
A primal instinct kicks in, and one moment I’m standing next to Lance, and the next I’m running, searching for Ryan. I can’t get a good view of him yet, but I hear him grunting. He’s hurt. The walk around the house, to the ladder, feels like an eternity.
“Ry?” I call out for the tenth time to no response.
I finally reach the ladder and climb up. He’s surrounded by the guys, even Miles, whose face is locked in a concerned expression. And it sure as fuck can’t be good if that guy gives a flying fuck about what happened to my boyfriend.
“Ry?”
The other volunteers move out of the way so I can see him. He’s on his ass, Atlas on his knees at his side. Ry’s face is tense as he grits his teeth. He grips his hand, his thumb red and swollen.
“Okay,” Atlas says, “let’s get you off the roof and get some ice on this. Come on.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Ryan says through his teeth before hissing.
And all I care about is making sure he’s okay.
*
Since he can’t use his hand, it takes a little time to get Ryan off the roof, but we manage. Then Troy takes us to the nearest urgent care, where they assess the damage and tend to his injury—a hairline fracture, which they set in a splint. I don’t leave his side the entire time, and finally we’re alone again in the patient room, since Troy’s calling Atlas to assure him everything’s okay.
“How’s the pain?” I stand beside the examination table where he sits.
He huffs. “This really was too much drama. I’ve had less care after having ten two-hundred-plus-pound guys stacked on top of me.” He says that in a particularly frustrated tone before glancing at me. He assesses my expression, then takes a breath. “But it’s better. Thank you for caring.” He takes my hand with his good one. “Sorry, Mart. I’m just frustrated with myself. I should have been paying attention. I was…” He trails off, but I know what’s been distressing him.
His eyes bulge. “Wait. What time is it?”
“What?”
“We were supposed to meet up with your family.”
After what happened, it totally slipped my mind, and I haven’t been keeping track of the time. As I’m pulling out my phone, I tell him, “Don’t worry. I’ll call and let them know that’s not happening. I would rather stay at home with you anyway.”
“Don’t do that, Mart. Go hang with your parents. Honestly, I could use some time to myself.”
His words catch me by surprise, and I tense up.
Time to himself?
Since we started messing around, the only times we haven’t been around each other have been when we were working, and even during my shift, I was absorbed with thinking how great it was gonna be when I got off so I could…well, get off. Sure, we spend time with our friends and family, but outside of that, we’re practically on top of each other.
He must notice how uneasy I am because he says, “I’m not saying I need time away from you. I…”