Page 23

William

I shoved aside the mistletoe dangling from the silly hat Ryan insisted we wore to check my incoming text.

Ryan: Are we dating?

I gripped the top of the ladder to keep from falling off, then glared down at Ryan whose job was to decorate the tree while I hung the star on top. It seemed he’d gotten bored and decided to almost surprise me to death with his question.

“I could’ve fallen and broken my neck, you know.”

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, one of the hardest days of the year for me. I typically locked myself in my apartment and licked my wounds that day, then I’d somehow manage to find it in me to visit my mother and Safe Haven on Christmas day.

I didn’t want to do that this year, but I also hadn’t planned on decorating my place to rival Macy’s festive window displays. Saying no to Ryan’s request for a tree wasn’t an option, though. I honestly didn’t think he’d want to celebrate either, considering. The pickings were slim on such short notice, but I was able to secure a lopsided runt no one else wanted.

Ryan: Well?

He seemed anxious for a response. He’d been like this all day. Bouts of playfulness mixed in with moments of high intensity. Like when I’d caught him staring into the opened refrigerator as if his mind was millions of miles away. He’d told me it was nothing, but I didn’t believe him.

I was guilty of being preoccupied and pensive too, and I had a feeling we were stressing over the same thing. Not only was tomorrow Christmas Eve, it also marked the start of a new week. The start of his new goal.

“Truth.”

We’d spent the last week relishing in each other’s affection as he got more and more used to being touched by me. But I couldn’t deny feeling like the clock was running down as this new week approached. I’d decided the truth would be my mission as well, no more stalling.

“Do you want to be dating?” I always went with Ryan’s flow, did things at his speed. We hadn’t officially put a label on our relationship, but I wasn’t seeing anyone else, and every time he mentioned Chef Shawn I wanted to punch something. Hard. Ryan was it for me. That didn’t mean I was it for him, though.

Ryan: Yeah. I think so.

Ryan: Yes.

“Your wish is my command,” I laughed, climbing down. “I thought you’d never ask.” I hauled him in for a kiss, my mistletoe catching him in the eye.

“ Ouch ,” he mouthed, rubbing his eye and blinking a few times.

“These things are dangerous,” I complained, tossing them both to the floor before dipping him backward for a kiss. I rarely got the opportunity to initiate affection. We’d spent a lot of time together during the week, and there’d hardly been a moment when Ryan’s lips weren’t already on mine, or on their way to mine.

He’d obliterated his touch goal—within reason. Hugs and kisses were safe zones. He’d also taken a nap against my shoulder yesterday afternoon. That was nice. We’d been on the couch watching the rain pour down when he’d wrapped his arms around my bicep and rested his head on me.

I gave him one last kiss before setting him on his feet. He went back to tapping away on his phone.

Ryan: If we’re dating, then we should go on a date.

“Okay,” I said with some hesitancy. “Maybe after the holidays. We can grab breakfast somewhere quiet and cozy.” If he still wanted anything to do with me by then.

Ryan: Tonight. Let’s do dinner.

With the exception of coming to my apartment, Ryan didn’t venture outside of Safe Haven’s walls. And he never got here by public transportation or even car service. I picked him up and dropped him off—with the exception of the one-time Peggy brought him here.

Sure, we used to run outside all the time, but at an ungodly hour where it felt like the streets were ours. He’d made great progress, but the last time we went out in public it didn’t end well. The scene from the gala flashed through my mind. The idea of taking him into the New York City nightlife triggered my protective instincts. “We haven’t finished with the tree, and we should give this more thought instead of acting on impulse.”

Ryan: It’s called being spontaneous. We have to go now.

“Why now, Ryan?” I cupped his shoulders. “What’s going on?”

He shrugged out of my hold, pacing over to the window. He peered out into the snowfall for a moment before replying.

My phone chimed, and he then tapped furiously at his screen while I watched. By the time I took my eyes off him to look down at my phone, his message had been edited. In his mad dash to erase whatever he’d decided he didn’t want me to see, he’d missed deleting one word completely. It was missing the ending vowel, but it didn’t matter.

Ryan: I want to experience things befor

“Before what?”

He didn’t look at me or type a response. A blush crept along his cheek, though. He’d either meant to erase it all, or at least the very end of his message. Before it’s too late , I told myself, because nothing else seemed to fit. But too late for what?

I sighed, shoving my hands into my pockets and stepping up beside him. A few inches of snow had accumulated on the ground. “What aren’t you telling me?” I whispered, acknowledging the hypocrisy in my question. I didn’t want to guess because every scenario that came to mind caused me pain.

Ryan blocked my view, coming to stand in front of me. He rested a palm on my cheek, his gaze begging me to trust him. He held up his phone, an unsent message waiting for me to read.

Ryan: I’m ready to do this.

“What if it’s too much for you to handle? It’s dark out. Let’s at least wait until day time.”

Ryan placed a kiss on my lips, a kiss so soft and light I’d only felt it because I’d seen it happen.

He cleared the message field and typed a reply to that, holding it up to me.

Ryan: Don’t be afraid for me. I’m afraid enough for myself. I can do this, and so can you.

I grunted, tugging on a curl that sprung from his bun. “You’re so strong. I wished I’d been as strong as you.”

Ryan frowned at my wording of the last part, but didn’t ask for its meaning. I was glad, because I think I would have told him, and I wasn’t ready to tonight.

“I know just the place.”

His dimples deepened with his gorgeous smile. I often joked that he’d give me a heart attack one day, but as I read the new message he typed, I realized this time it was a real possibility.

Ryan: Good. And I want to ride the subway there.

We survived the subway ride into the East Village. I’d huddled Ryan into a corner on the bustling car, guarding him with my life, instructing him to focus on me and not the boisterous group of teens near us. Three train stops and about a hundred deep breaths later, we emerged from below ground.

Ryan’s gaze flew everywhere. To the carolers on the corner, and the bells they rang. To the competing busker down the street playing the harmonica for spare change. The Christmas motifs strung from one light post to another seemed to overstimulate him too.

He’d never roamed the streets freely before. The last time he had, he’d been taken. So while there was obvious excitement mixed in with his apprehension, I had to do what I could to help him manage the terror.

Gripping his chin between my gloved fingers, I brought his wild gaze around to me.

I’d kept our destination a mystery, and I suddenly realized it was a bad idea. Knowing precisely where we were going and what we’d be doing would go a long way toward easing some of his anxiety.

“You breathe, I talk,” I said, and he nodded, snowflakes settling onto his lashes.

“I’m taking you to a local bar called The Daisy. It’s right down the street.” I pointed in the bar’s direction. “It’s pretty popular, and there are a few locations throughout the city. I hear this one’s the best, though. It’s also the smallest. More intimate, less people.”

Maybe I should have taken him to see a movie instead. An obscure foreign film no one else wanted to see. We’d have had the whole theater to ourselves. But I ignored that thought. I brought him here because I knew once he found out why, he’d be just as excited as he was afraid.

A few drunken college kids sporting NYU sweatshirts stumbled out of the bar we stood in front of, giggling and holding each other up. Ryan startled, but kept his gaze on me.

“They have an art studio in the back,” I said, ignoring all the activity happening around us, “and I may have snagged us the last two open seats for tonight’s figure drawing class.”

Ryan’s fear made room for curiosity now, and I held out my hand.

“You can do this.” I reminded him of his own words.

Ryan took my hand, his death grip betraying what his smile didn’t.

“We leave whenever you’re ready,” I swore.

Holding hands, we jaywalked across the street while I distracted him with bad jokes and even worse impersonations. We laughed at nothing and smiled at the world around us.

We unlinked our hands to let a few people pass us on the narrow sidewalk, but Ryan reached for me as soon as they went by. His fingers trembled through his wool mittens. I squeezed them tighter, pausing to plant a kiss on the tip of his frostbitten nose.

The Daisy had a rustic and friendly vibe. The type of place where the patrons were on a first name basis with the owner and staff. I hung our coats on the rack near the door, returning the greeting the blonde bartender threw our way. Ryan offered him a nervous smile.

Thankfully it seemed to be a slow night. It made sense with Christmas just a couple of days away.

“Ready to head to the back?” I asked. “There’s enough time to order food and drinks before the real fun starts.”

Ryan nodded, looking around once more before following me through the tables to the glass doors offering a glimpse of the art studio. The music from the bar area faded away as we stepped inside the cozy space surrounded by hung murals. A tall, older man appeared from around a corner to show us to our small table etched with daisies.

Between the table design, the bar name, and the paintings that contained the beautiful wild flower, it made me curious about the story behind it. They were etched into every chair too.

Ryan settled in next to me, his knee bouncing under the table while he observed the other couples engaged in hushed conversation around us.

“I’m Franky,” said the man who’d shown us to our table. He handed us our menus. “And you two are?”

“William.” Franky looked to Ryan next. “Ryan,” I said. “His name’s Ryan.”

Franky’s brows drew together. He likely wondered why I hadn’t allowed Ryan to answer for himself. “William and Ryan,” he mused. “We pride ourselves on remembering our regulars. Is this your first time here with us?” He addressed Ryan, but again, I jumped in on his behalf.

“Yes, it’s our first time.”

Franky glanced at me, his gaze shrewd. He seemed fit for dominating a boardroom, not waiting tables at a local bar.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to look over the menu,” he said before disappearing. Ryan’s stare heated my cheeks, and I found him watching me with an expression I couldn’t decipher. I tilted my head toward him, wordlessly asking if he was okay. His lips tightened before he rooted his gaze to his menu.

He was quiet while we ate. Too quiet. Not that he ever spoke, but he hadn’t sent one text my way since we sat down, not even to order. He’d just pointed at the menu, and when his food arrived, he’d contemplated it for several long minutes before taking a bite.

“What’s wrong?” I finally asked when our waitress cleared our empty plates away. He ignored me. I tapped his phone, but he snatched it off the table and shoved it in his pocket. What the hell?

I’d been about to push the issue, but our waitress returned, handing out tabletop easels and canvases. Ryan worked on getting his set up, pausing to accept the charcoal sticks she distributed next. She’d had to gesture for me to take mine twice because I’d been so focused on figuring out Ryan’s problem.

“Thank you,” I said to her. Sighing, I decided to let it go. He’d tell me when he was ready. Pushing him to communicate never worked. If we were back at my place, he’d probably be locked behind a slammed door by now.

The overhead lights brightened, but not by much. Enough to produce a decent sketch, but not enough to turn a romantic night out into a classroom setting. Ryan was probably the only thing close to Picasso in this room anyway. The rest of us would likely see this for what it was. Something fun to do on a date night.

The blonde bartender from out front took the small stage, surprising me when he introduced himself as Leland—artist extraordinaire and owner of The Daisy.

“Are you kidding me, Noon?” Leland said to the largest man I’d ever seen in my life. “This is the third night this week.”

The giant he’d called Noon chuckled, wrapping an arm around a man with eyes a similar shade of green as mine. The man looked like a model. “You have Solace to thank for seeing my face again so soon.”

Leland addressed the blushing blonde Noon had drawn closer to him. “You either really love this place, or you just want to see my man half-naked,” he deadpanned. The crowd laughed. Franky rolled his eyes from his spot to the left of the stage. Leland winked at him, pulling a begrudging grin from Franky.

The waitress brought two stools on stage, setting up a larger easel and canvas in front of one of them.

“Okay,” Leland turned serious. “Thank you all for being here. I’ll be instructing you as we go, but it doesn’t need to be perfect, it just needs to be fun. Our scheduled subject couldn’t make it, so this handsome DILF over here agreed to step in.” He flourished his hands in Franky’s direction, and the crowd applauded him for being a good sport. Franky stepped on stage at Leland’s beckoning.

“I’ll do the honors,” Leland said, making a show of unbuttoning Franky’s shirt. There were playful catcalls and low whistles coming from the audience. Once the shirt was off, he kissed a scowling Franky on the lips before ushering him to his stool.

“I’ll pay for this later,” Leland muttered, not sounding at all displeased by the idea before sitting in front of his canvas and directing us through the first steps.

“Wow, this is really impressive,” Leland said to Ryan sometime later. Franky had made his exit off stage, and now Leland was walking around checking out the finished results. “Is this natural talent, or did you go to art school?”

“Natural,” I said, and Ryan glared at me. His mood had only improved while he’d been lost in his work. It seemed to worsen with Leland’s approach. “He, ah, lost his voice,” I explained when Leland looked between us.

A guy poked his head in from the bar area, calling for Leland’s assistance with something. He excused himself, setting Ryan’s canvas back on its easel. Ryan fished his phone out of his jeans.

Ryan: Can we go now?

“Yeah, of course. Are you upset with me?” I rested a hand on his forearm when he went to stand without responding. He stared at me, his expression shifting from anger to a strange sort of resignation. He shook his head no, and worry snaked through me. The last time he looked at me that way was at the Freedom Fighters gala. “You’ve been acting strange all day.” This time he did get up, exiting the studio.

We took an Uber home, my own mood deteriorating during the tense ride back to the apartment. I’d hoped this Christmas would be different. I thought I could erase the pain of previous years by making new, beautiful memories. Instead, I began to dwell on why this time of year hadn’t been my favorite since I was a kid.

Ryan beelined for the living room, leaving me standing at the front door. I trailed after him, observing his pensive reflection through the window he stood in front of.

“I’ll give you some space. Let me know when you’re ready to head back to Safe Haven.” I got halfway to the library when my phone chirped.

Ryan: You should want someone who can talk to you. Who won’t embarrass you in public. Someone you don’t need to translate silences for.

I turned back to the living room. Ryan sat on the edge of the coffee table now, head hanging, phone in hand. Kneeling down in front of him, I waited until he met my gaze.

“ You are who I want, Ryan. You are enough, and so much more than I deserve.”

He shook his head, pulling up the text screen on his phone.

“Yes, you are,” I said adamantly, stopping him. If only you knew . “I could never be embarrassed by you. Never doubt that.”

He rested his forehead against mine, stroking my neck and chest.

“What do you need?” I whispered, snapping the elastic from his hair so I could run my hands through the inky curls. I placed a kiss on his beauty mark, and he turned his head, catching my lips as I pulled away.

Ryan pushed me to the floor, falling on top of me as we kissed. He aligned his hips with mine, undulating against my cock, pushing his tongue deeper inside my mouth. I moaned, rolling up to meet his thrusts, untangling one hand from his hair to grip his ass. This was new, and I couldn’t get my body under control long enough to question it.

We mauled each other’s lips, getting sweatier by the second. It’d never been like this between us, our bodies touching this way, so close to the edge of everything. Moments later, Ryan tore his mouth away from mine, sucking in a razor-sharp breath, pinning me with his untamed gaze.

His hips continued to buck, and I held him to me with both hands now, increasing the friction. We were both on the brink of climax, one right move and we’d freefall into bliss.

A few more pumps and he threw his head back on a silent scream as he orgasmed, his nails biting into my shoulders. I’d never seen anything as raw and innocent and beautiful as Ryan letting go.

“Fuck!’ I barked, following right behind, shuddering beneath him.

Ryan fell limp onto my chest, his breathing unsteady as I secured my arms around his trembling body.

“Pretty sure I haven’t done that since I was fourteen,” I said after regaining the ability to form words. I dropped a kiss to the top of his damp hair, loosening my arms when he craned his head around in search of his phone. He grabbed it from the coffee table before burrowing into my side.

Ryan: I bet more than that happened between you and Xavier.

“What?” I grabbed his wrist to bring the phone closer to my face. I needed to make sure I’d read that correctly. “Where’d that come from?”

He deleted that message to type a new one.

Ryan: Are you saying it isn’t true?

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just didn’t expect to discuss it with you right… after.” I resisted the urge to squirm in discomfort. He’d alluded to knowing the extent of my relationship with Xavier before, stating he wasn’t sure if we’d become “friends” again during his first month at Safe Haven when we had no contact. He’d never been so outright about it before now, though.

Ryan: He practically drooled whenever you were near.

“Don’t exaggerate.”

Ryan gazed up at me, waiting out my deflection.

“You and I have more than Xavier and I ever had. Sex doesn’t equate to love.”

He propped himself up on an elbow, searching my face. I waited for him to call me on what I’d said, to ask if it was a general statement or something more. Something deeper. He didn’t.

He sat up and urged me to do the same before fisting the hem of my shirt. He paused, waiting for me to grant or deny him permission. I raised my arms, allowing him to pull it over my head.

My heart raced, knowing what would come next. Ryan touched my shoulder, motioning for me to turn around. I swallowed my uncertainty. He’d seen my back before. Somehow, though, this time felt different. This time I got the sense he was looking for greater understanding.

I settled onto my stomach, the cum cooling in my underwear feeling unpleasant. I gritted my teeth through it, relaxing as best I could.

His fingertips landed on my shoulder blades, tracing the dense foliage of the tree canopies. His touch felt both condemning and absolving, both a reminder and permission to forget.

His fingers shook as they skated past the tree line to the field of colorful wildflowers and lush blades of grass. The view was attractive from a distance.

I closed my eyes with a sigh of surrender when the beam of Ryan’s flashlight app clicked on. His breath tickled the middle of my back as he leaned in. Right under my rib cage, hidden beneath the soil and in between the beauty, lay the bones of everything stolen.

He tugged the waist of my pants lower. I lifted my hips to make it easier. Through the reflection in the floor to ceiling window, I watched as his light moved down my spine to my sacral region—to the mountain of skeletal remains holding up the field.

“That’s the place where promises were broken,” I whispered. “The place where innocence was lost.” The smallest of the bones lay atop a wooden miniature coffin engraved with a name, a date, and my plea to Gargantuan.

Bring him back.

I shivered as he smoothed his hand over it.

Ryan’s phone light went off, and he eased back. The loss of his touch and the warmth of his breath against my skin left me feeling cold and alone.

“What are you thinking?” I whispered into the silence, my heart racing.

His pensive gaze moved to the window where I watched his reflection with my hands folded under my cheek. Ryan licked his lips, and my mind clouded with negative thoughts, assumptions of what he must be thinking of me.

“Do you think it’s morbid?”

He shook his head, and I licked my own lips nervously.

“Do you want to know who he is?”

Ryan appeared indecisive before looking away.

I wouldn’t push him if he wasn’t ready, because I wasn’t ready either.

“You have to tell him.”

“Do you think it’s beautiful?”

“ Yes ,” he mouthed.

I turned over, sitting up to cup his cheek, brushing my thumb over his beauty mark. “Does it make you feel sad for me?”

“ Yes ,” he mouthed again, gently sweeping his lips over mine. He regarded me, his fingers outlining my sorrow. His lips formed a hard line of determination as he grabbed his phone again.

Ryan: Make love to me.

“No,” I said with vehemence. His face fell, his cheeks turning red. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.” I kissed him in apology, dragging it out so he knew it wasn’t a matter of me not wanting him. “I don’t want you to do something you’re not ready for because you feel sorry for me.”

Ryan: That isn’t why.

“Then is it because of what happened earlier at The Daisy?” My mind was taking longer than usual to switch gears. How had we gotten here? “Because you’ve got nothing to prove, Ryan.” I slid my hands along his neck, and he batted them away.

Ryan: I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m ready.

He’d been ready to go out tonight too, and look how that ended. This all felt rushed, every decision he’d made today held an edge of panic.

I got to my feet, backing away as my own fear and stubbornness reared its head. “I don’t believe you.”

Ryan shot up, storming over to me as he typed, shoving the device in my face when he was done.

Ryan: Why won’t you believe me? If you don’t want me, just say it!

“Because the last time you had something to prove, you left me the next day!” My lungs burned with every breath. “If we do this, when will I lose you this time? I can’t risk it.”

The tightness in his jaw faded, and his hand dropped to his side. A small smile filled with regret formed on his lips.

Ryan: This is different. Trust me.

“Why?” I breathed. “Why now? Why me?”

Ryan: Because it has to be now, and it has to be you.

His words were bold, full of conviction, but his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. I shuffled back, creating more distance, because being this close to him made me want to take what he offered, made me willing to take a gamble on things turning out fine. There was also the matter of going further with him before bringing what hid between us to the surface. Doing so would make me a monster, or rather, more of a monster than I already was.

You have to tell him!

I turned away from him, unable to look him in the eye, struggling with what to do. Not wanting to do what I should have done long ago.

You have to tell him!

I stiffened when Ryan’s lips met my back. He started from the top, kissing along my tattoo until he’d gotten to the bottom of it. I let my head fall, taking in his affection like the selfish man I was.

He wrapped his arms around me, holding his phone up so I could read the lit screen.

Ryan: Please.

You have to tell him!

“Tomorrow,” I found myself whispering, unsure if it was in response to his plea, or the order being shouted in my head.