Page 20 of Pretty Broken Doll

Ryann

T he week passes in a blur of tech demonstrations, Q&A panels, and endless meetings. Interest in AVA is off the charts, our systems flooded with pre-orders, and my inbox constantly pings with emails from investors. Despite the successful launch, work hasn’t slowed down—half my time is spent in the hotel room on conference calls until my eyes cross.

My life has always been this way, and for the longest time, I embraced it. If nothing else, it kept the loneliness at bay, even if I refused to admit it. But now? All I can think about is my little doll.

When Shilo’s at the convention center with Liza and the devs, earning first place in some tech competition, or even just going out to dinner with the group, I fucking miss him. What the hell is happening to me?

We’re in New York, and I don’t want to spend my time stuck in the world’s most uncomfortable chair, listening to analysts drone on about profit margins. I want to experience this city with him. Why am I even in this meeting? Isn’t the financial shit Declan’s department?

Pulling up his schedule, my jaw clenches when I see how light his workload is back in Seattle. A quick admin check confirms my suspicion: Ronin has been flooding my calendar with back-to-back calls. Of course. Another one of his tests, no doubt, to see how much I can handle, as if I don’t already have enough on my plate. Don’t get me wrong, Liza’s been handling everything like a pro, but even I can tell she’s starting to get frazzled. Perhaps it’s time I take my twin up on his offer.

As the meeting wraps up, I grab my phone and shoot him a text, asking if he’ll handle my next few calls so I can focus on the convention. His reply is almost instant—a thumbs up and a casual you got it, bro that makes me smile. How we went half our lives without speaking is beyond me because now, I can’t imagine my life without him.

Taking an Uber to the convention center, I gaze out the window, my thoughts drifting to Shilo. Our conversations over the past week replay in my head, the way we’ve grown so comfortable with each other. My cock twitches when I think of his body writhing above me in his new favorite position—how gorgeous he is, unabashed and unafraid. How intoxicating. I’ve spent every night buried inside him, discussing shows or games I know nothing about just to watch his face light up. I can’t seem to get enough. Fuck, I want him all the time.

A text buzzes in my pocket when we pull up to the convention center, and my stomach immediately sours as I spot a message from Olivia.

Olivia:

I’ll be in Jersey tonight if you want to meet.

Me:

Why are you in Jersey?

This whole business with her is exhausting. Yes, it’s fake, and even though we both know it, I hate playing pretend.

Olivia:

I’ve got season passes to the Giants game tonight.

That’s right, she’s a Jersey girl. I’d forgotten. Her company expanded to the West Coast only recently.

Olivia:

I can get you a seat in my suite if you like? We’re playing Baltimore.

Well, shit. Football games aren’t generally my thing, but getting the chance to watch one of the few openly gay NFL players take down the Giants? How can I refuse?

But how can I accept?

Flashing my attendee badge as I step inside the building, my mind is on Shilo—like it always seems to be. Things with him have just started to feel…familiar. Easy. The last thing I want is to rock the boat by ditching him for a night out with my fake girlfriend. Even if that’s how our lives will look once we’re back home, I can’t bring myself to spend an evening without him.

And yet…what if—no. Bad idea. Terrible, even.

But still…

Me:

Make that two seats.

My little doll isn’t a sports fan, but I’ve never been to MetLife Stadium, and the thought of sharing that experience with him makes the idea even more appealing.

It’s Friday, and the convention is at its busiest. Fighting my way through the crowd toward the auditorium, I spot Liza deep in conversation, walking a few consumers through AVA’s central hub. My eyes scan the room, frowning when there’s no sign of purple hair.

“Where’s Shilo?” I ask as soon as I’m beside her.

She throws me an exasperated look. “Him and that PA of yours were chomping at the bit to try some VR thing, so I cut them loose.”

“Where at?”

With a shrug, she hands out a few brochures before wiping sweat from her brow, looking a little ragged. Guilt tugs at me for being so absent this past week.

“How are you holding up? Need any help?”

Liza flashes me an appreciative smile but shakes her head. “Oh no, I’m fine. Go check on your brother’s girlfriend’s brother. I’m sure you’re protective of him.”

Her comment makes me pause, an uncomfortable knot settling in my gut as I walk away slowly. Of course, I’m protective of him—but not for the reasons she thinks.

The urge to set her straight, to tell everyone that Shilo is mine, surges in my chest. But…I can’t. Not until May.

Shilo doesn’t answer when I call, so I follow signs pointing toward VR events. The area is packed, but it doesn’t take long to spot his unmistakable purple hair up on stage. He’s wearing a VR headset, and behind him, a giant projector displays what he’s seeing—a Japanese-style fighting game where he’s clashing swords with another opponent.

The crowd below the stage cheers wildly, and I watch in horror as my little doll slices off the other fighter’s arm in a violent spray of blood across the screen.

Christ.

“Cool, huh?”

I glance over to see Carpenter smirking as another person steps up to fight.

“Not the word I’d use.” Barbaric is more like it.

Carpenter snickers. “Shilo’s pretty good. He’s been leading for a while. Took me out with a slice to the stomach.”

With sick fascination, I watch as Shilo swings a small baton that doubles as a katana in the game, taking down five more contenders in a flurry of dismemberment. The crowd roars their approval with each brutal victory until finally, someone manages to defeat him with a particularly gory decapitation.

Everyone boos at his defeat but claps enthusiastically when he removes his headset. My chest tightens at the sight of his wide grin as he bows, basking in the attention. The nervous, fidgety boy I met months ago is gone—this Shilo is confident, radiant, and completely in his element.

Maybe CalTek should look into video game design…

“Dude, that was sick!” Carpenter rushes up to meet Shilo, the two exchanging a fist bump. “I thought for sure you were going to win the competition, man. You really know how to fight!”

“Thanks,” Shilo laughs, swiping a few sweaty strands of hair from his face. He freezes instantly when he spots me standing there.

“Seriously, that game felt so real, I thought you’d actually cut me,” Carpenter says, lifting his shirt before grabbing Shilo’s hand and pressing it to his abs. “You don’t feel any stab wounds or anything, right?”

A low growl rumbles in my chest, and Shilo yanks his hand back as I fix my PA with a hard stare.

“Don’t you have work to do?”

Carpenter blinks. “Uh, no?”

My eyes narrow, and we lock gazes until I can practically see the light bulb flicker on over his head.

“Oh, yeah. Right. Work . Got it. See you later, Shilo,“ he mumbles, waving awkwardly before scurrying off.

I turn back to Shilo, my gaze softening as he offers me a shy smile.

“Hi,” he breathes, peeking at me through his lashes.

“Hi, doll.”

A faint flush spreads across his pale cheeks, and he ducks his head, biting his lip. “Were you watching me?”

“Always.” I reach out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “Can I take you somewhere tonight?”

His brow furrows slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Where?”

The urge to pull him in and kiss that frown away is almost unbearable, but I rein it in. Soon.

“Have you ever been to New Jersey?”

MetLife Stadium glows like a beacon, the roar from the stands nearly deafening as we weave our way up to the VIP suites. Shilo’s eyes glimmer beneath his hood, wavy tendrils brushing his cheeks as he takes in the sea of fans clad in red and gray.

“My dad is going to be so jealous,” he murmurs, snapping a few quick pictures on his phone. The memory of his horrified expression when I told him where we were going brings an indulgent smile to my lips. But he came along anyway, just to spend time with me, and the thought makes my chest ache in ways I’m not entirely ready to examine.

I guide him into the suite, keeping a hand on his lower back as I scan the plush seats and perfect view of the field. A digital banner loops around the stadium, displaying donor names, and CalTek’s logo flashes on the screen before cycling to the next. We’ve sponsored this place for years. How have I never caught a game before?

A glimpse of auburn hair catches my attention, and I quickly slip in front of Shilo, nervously running a hand across my jaw. “There’s something I forgot to mention. These tickets weren’t mine. They were given to us by—“

“Ryann, darling, how wonderful to see you.”

I wince as Olivia steps forward, pressing a kiss to my cheek. My stomach sinks as Shilo stiffens, his entire demeanor shifting in an instant. He drops his head, shoves his hands into his pockets, and shrinks into himself, refusing to acknowledge her outstretched hand.

“And you must be Shilo,” Olivia says kindly. “I recognize you from the Christmas party. Ryann’s told me so much about you.”

He mumbles something, scuffing the ground with his Chucks, and I meet Olivia’s perplexed look with a tight smile. “Give us a moment, please, Liv.”

As soon as she’s gone, I reach for Shilo’s shoulders, but he flinches away, catching me off guard.

“You brought me here to third wheel on your date?” he hisses, glaring at me from beneath his tousled hair.

I exhale slowly, keeping my voice even. “I brought you here because I wanted to share this with you. And it isn’t a date. Not a real one, anyway. Olivia knows about us.”

“She…?” His frown deepens as he lifts his head slightly, letting me see those gorgeous eyes. “I thought you said we had to keep it a secret?”

“Aye, but to be honest with her, I had to tell her about you.” The suite begins to fill, and I guide him toward a quieter corner, resting a hand on his arm. “I meant what I said, doll. There’s nothing between Olivia and me. It’s all for show.”

He swallows hard, slim throat flexing as he glances over my shoulder. “And this isn’t, like, weird? Hanging out with us both?”

“Maybe a little,” I admit, dragging a hand down my face. God, this was a terrible idea. “Do you want to head back to the hotel? I can call us another Uber.”

“You’d come with me?” He seems surprised, his head tilting as he studies me.

Glancing around to ensure we’re hidden, I give in to temptation and press my lips to his. “Of course I would. I’d never force you into something that makes you uncomfortable.”

His tension visibly eases, shoulders relaxing as he rises on his toes to chase another kiss. “I think… I’m okay. It’s awkward, but it’s not real, right?”

“Right.” Smiling, I grab his wrist and tug him toward one of the lounge seats near the front. “What is real, though, is us. And I want to experience your first NFL game together.”

Olivia smiles as we approach, her gaze flickering between us. “Everything good?”

With a nod, I slide into the middle seat. Shilo’s still visibly tense, his shoulders hunched, and I can’t help but wish I could pull him onto my lap to shield him from the awkwardness.

Clearing her throat, she offers my little doll a grin. “Ryann tells me you’re studying programming. I actually have a degree in that field myself.”

“Computer engineering,” he mumbles, fiddling with his hoodie sleeves as he peeks at her. “Kind of the same thing, but not.”

“Oh, that’s right. You deal with all the physical components while I specialize in code,” she winks, and he thaws a fraction.

“Yeah, sorta.”

The two exchange a few more words before the conversation fizzles out, and I send her a grateful smile for making an effort.

“I should FaceTime my dad,” Shilo whispers as the players take the field, the crowd erupting into cheers. “These seats are insane.”

The mention of his father makes my stomach roil, but I push the feeling aside and smile. “I bet he’d love that. It’s not every day you get to see the Giants kick some ass live.”

Olivia nudges me, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bag at her feet. “True. And you get to see your Ravens lose.”

I scoff, draping an arm behind Shilo’s chair. “Shall we make a bet? If my team wins, you cut the royalties for AVA in half.”

“Deal.”

While Shilo chats with his father, I let myself get lost in the game, my eyes tracking number twenty-two as he moves through his warm-ups. Football was never my sport, but I’ve followed Huckslee Davis since his college days. The kid’s got guts—coming out in an industry as hyper-masculine as the NFL takes courage I’ve never had.

Not for the first time, I wonder how different my life might’ve been if I were free to just be . If my mother had raised me instead of Ronin. If she hadn’t died. Would I still be this version of myself? Or more like Declan, with his easy smiles and joking nature? And what if our roles had been reversed? If I’d been the one she’d taken with her instead?

Maybe I’d be in Huckslee’s shoes, openly out and playing pro ball in Boston. Or maybe I wouldn’t even have made it this far. I guess I’ll never know.

A shiver pulls me from my thoughts as Shilo presses into my side, sneaking as close as he can without drawing attention. The ache in my chest tightens. If I were braver, I’d wrap him up in my arms for warmth, but I’m not. At least, not yet.

The game drags on, heading into overtime after the Giants’ quarterback lands a flawless pass to tie it up. I spend most of it explaining the rules to Shilo, though he hardly pays attention, instead ogling every player on the field. When I lean down to tease him about it, brushing my lips against his ear, he flashes me a coy smile, his cheeks pink beneath the stadium lights.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Callahan,” he murmurs sweetly, popping that damn thumb into his mouth. “I’d much rather watch basketball players instead.”

Oh, I do love this bold side of him, but he’s playing with fire.

Two minutes left on the clock, and Huckslee intercepts the ball from the Giants, sprinting for the end zone. Olivia and I are on our feet instantly, shouting for opposing teams as he’s tackled at the line. The stadium holds its breath—but his feet cross the boundary. Touchdown. Game over . My Ravens take the win.

“Bullshit,” Olivia mutters, huffing as she grabs her Prada bag. I smirk, rolling my eyes.

“Don’t be a sore loser. Your team played well.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She sighs, placing a hand on my little doll’s shoulder with a warm smile. “It was nice to meet you, Shilo. If you ever want to talk computers, hit me up.”

With that, she disappears into the crowd, leaving Shilo staring after her. When those big blue eyes finally swing back to me, they’re laced with curiosity. “She seems… nice.”

“She is,” I agree, guiding him toward the exit. “I think we’ll be good friends when all of this is over. She’ll make a savage business partner.”

He hums but stays quiet as we navigate the throng of fans pouring out of the stadium. By the time we find our ride and slide into the backseat, he still hasn’t said much, and I can tell he’s stuck inside that pretty head of his. I don’t know what’s on his mind, but I do know that I’m not ready to go back to the hotel just yet.

“Know any place where we can get some authentic Brooklyn pizza?” I ask the driver as he pulls into traffic.

The man grins, shooting me a wink in the rearview mirror. “You kiddin’? I got just the joint for you.”

Shilo whips his head toward me. “But I’m not—“

“I swear to all that is holy, if you tell me you’re not hungry, I’ll force-feed you,” I growl, cutting him off.

His eyes flash in defiance. “I ate during the game.”

“A handful of popcorn doesn’t count as eating, Shilo. That’s a snack. I’m taking you to dinner.”

His scowl softens, morphing into something tender. “Like a date? A real one?”

Reaching out for his hand, I press his knuckles to my lips. The gesture surprises even me, but the affection comes naturally. “Yes, like a date. Just you and me.”

He straightens in his seat, practically bouncing as he turns to watch the Brooklyn Bridge come into view. “I’ve never been on a date before.”

He’s never…

That revelation twists my heart painfully. How have I fucked him six ways to Sunday, but never taken him on a proper date? We’ve done everything backwards. Now that we’re…whatever we are, I want to spoil him. Share all of his firsts, all of his onlys. I want them all to belong to me.

Forty minutes later, our driver drops us at a busy pizzeria in Bay Ridge. The place buzzes with energy, live music spilling out onto the sidewalk, and a line nearly out the door. Once inside, Shilo’s eyes light up when he spots a row of arcade games lining a brick back wall, and I press a quick kiss to the top of his head.

“Go pick a game for us to play while I grab our food, baby.”

Not needing to be told twice, he’s off in an instant, making me chuckle when he stops in front of Mortal Kombat . My sweet little doll likes violence, apparently.

Stepping up to the counter, I place our order with extra cheese and no meat. As I move aside to wait, a deep voice cuts through the chatter, freezing me mid-thought. Turning toward the entrance, I lock eyes with Huckslee Davis as he strides into the restaurant, leaving me speechless

What are the odds?

He’s even bigger in person, muscles straining against his oversized coat, blond curls damp and wild. Beside him, his boyfriend Taylor jostles his shoulder, something unspoken passing between them in an intimate glance that makes my skin tingle. I’ve seen them together in photos—they’re all over social media—but in person? They’re fucking stunning. This is an opportunity I cannot waste.

Making my way over, I stop just short of invading their space, praying I don’t come off too forward as I hold out my palm. “Huckslee Davis? It’s nice to meet you. I’m Ryann.”

Two pairs of eyes swivel toward me, and Huckslee shakes my hand with a wide smile. “Hey there. You a fan?”

“Of you both.” I nod toward his boyfriend. “I’ve caught your stunt bike show.”

That earns me a cocky grin as Taylor runs a hand through his dark hair. “Yeah? You like that shit?”

“Impressive. Can I buy you both a beer?”

They exchange a glance before Huckslee offers an apologetic smile. “We don’t drink. We’re just here for the pie.”

Damn . Worth a shot.

“Of course,” I nod smoothly, glancing back to check on Shilo before returning to the conversation. “Would it be alright if I asked you a personal question?”

Huckslee lifts a brow, his features growing wary. “We’re not interested in a threesome, sorry.”

I choke on my spit, coughing into my arm. “That’s not my question, but I appreciate the visual.”

“Oh.” He laughs along with me while his boyfriend rolls his eyes.

“You’d be surprised how often we get asked,” Taylor smirks. “Huck and I don’t share.”

“Neither do I.” My voice lowers, and I clear my throat. “When you came out in college, were you worried about your career? In football, I mean.”

The question hits like a stone, the playful energy shifting as both men stiffen. Taylor’s face falls slightly, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve overstepped.

“I never really had a coming-out moment,” Huckslee answers slowly, sliding an arm around Taylor’s waist. “It sort of happened for me in high school. By the time I got to college, I was just dating men, and word spread on its own. I was never concerned about what the NFL thought because, well…this isn’t what I plan on doing forever. There are more important things in my life.”

“Ah. That makes sense.” My gaze drifts to Shilo, showing someone his age how to play the game he picked. His hands gesture awkwardly as he explains the buttons, and the sight puts a small smile on my lips.

“What I can say, though,” Taylor interjects, studying me intently, “is that hiding who you are eats away at your soul until there’s nothing left. Trust me. Someone wise once told me that the people who matter already know the truth.”

He flashes his boyfriend a quick wink, and I consider his words, rolling them over in my mind. “That’s great advice. Thank you.”

“Is he yours?” Huckslee asks, nodding toward Shilo, who’s still at the arcade.

A lump rises in my throat, but I manage to swallow it down and nod slowly. “Yes. Mine.”

At least in private, far from home. But what would I give to claim him out loud? To let the world know he’s mine without hesitation?

Five months. That’s all it’ll take. Once Ronin steps down, I can finally give Shilo what he deserves.

Someone who can claim him proudly. Someone who isn’t afraid.