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)
“Fuck,” Damon said immediately.
“That about covers it,” Rian said, and slumped against the wall. “This is worse than we thought. What if he’s involved in something illegal?”
“That’s what I was thinking.” Grim, scowling, Damon rubbed at his chin. “Something illegal. Someone who’s bad for him. Someone he’s more afraid of than anything else that could be threatening him.”
“I don’t really think Omen’s a haven for gang activity,” Rian said. “Or even thugs, despite the reasons this school exists. But could he be involved in drugs? Something more serious than marijuana?”
“Nothing came up on the urine test in his pre-season physical when school started,” Nurse Hadley said. “And I’ve done another one since he was admitted. Now, granted, our facilities aren’t that sophisticated, but on a basic screening he came up clean. He’s also not exhibiting signs of withdrawal from anything addictive. He’s worn down, yes, but the markers just don’t match.”
Rian sighed heavily; God, how did this just keep getting worse? “So we’re back to square one. No idea where the bruises came from, or why he seems so...so...defeated.”
“Nothing,” Damon grunted. “But he sure as hell seemed eager to get the fuck out of here.”
“Do you think he’d try to escape?” Rian asked.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Nurse Hadley said. “Wouldn’t be the first kid to try a prison break. But Nurse Flanaghan’s on night duty, and he’s yet to let anyone pull a Shawshank on him. Chris will be under supervision morning, noon, and night. You don’t need to worry about that.”
“No,” Rian said, and closed his eyes, rubbing at his temples. “Just about everything else.”
And about what to do.
Before things went too far, and they might not have a chance to help Chris until it was too late.
* * *
Damon didn’t know why he’d invited Rian back to his apartment.
It had just seemed like the natural thing to do, when Nurse Hadley had shooed them off so they’d stop hovering around her infirmary—especially when no doubt Chris could tell they were still outside, overhear the murmur of their voices and see their silhouettes through the frosted glass inset, and if Damon knew anything he knew that in the mind of a teenage boy, that would be all it took to build Chris up into a panic imagining what they must be saying, what they must be plotting, what the hell they were going to do to him.
And that’d just make him lock down even more.
Not that they were doing a great fucking job at getting him to open up in the first place.
But he didn’t have a single goddamned thing to say to Rian about it that they hadn’t already said in front of Nurse Hadley, and for fuck’s sake Damon already had too many tangled feelings where Rian was concerned to throw close proximity into the mix again when his fucking dick was still sore from how tight Rian was inside; from how hard that slim, needy body had clenched down on him with every thrust.
Yet somehow here he was, fumbling his key into the lock on his door with Rian fidgeting behind him, being way too goddamned obvious about looking anywhere but at Damon.
If he didn’t want to be around Damon at all, why’d he even agree to come?
Damon had to jimmy the key in the lock twice to get it to actually turn when he’d jammed it in at a bad angle, but after a moment managed to shove the door open and stalk inside, tossing over his shoulder, “Tea?”
“Ah...no thank you,” Rian murmured, straggling inside with his arms clutched against his stomach and bumping the door closed with his shoulder. “I was...thinking of going by the cafeteria for a late brunch after this.”
Damon only grunted, and tossed his keys on the kitchen counter before snagging the coffee pot and filling it up with water from the sink. He hadn’t had a damned thing to eat since they’d woken up, and hunger probably wasn’t helping the way his emotions felt like the jagged teeth of a rusty saw, digging into him and mangling him all up inside until he felt like he was going to burst apart into ugly scraps of spiky red anger. Fuck, he practically shredded the goddamned bag as he pulled a loaf of wheat bread from the fridge and yanked two slices out to pop them in the toaster.
Rian hovered near the door, biting his lip and just...just...being Rian. He started to make faltering sounds, then stopped, then said, “...what are you making?”
“Toast,” Damon grunted. “Want any? Plain, butter, or strawberry compote. Only options.”
With a humorless chuckle, Rian shook his head. “No—I’m fine. I can wait for the cafeteria.” Then he laced his fingers together, watching Damon with those wide, worried hazel eyes that were just trouble waiting to fucking happen. “Damon...”
Don’t.
Don’t you say my fucking name like you need something from me.