Page 25 of Pretty Broken Doll

Shilo

Three Months Later

Leaning against the cold metal bleachers, I stuff my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, my gaze fixed on the basketball game unfolding in front of me. The sharp squeak of sneakers on polished wood echoes through the gym, blending with the rhythmic thud of the ball against the court.

Obviously, sports aren’t really my thing, but tonight, none of that matters. Tonight, I’m here for Ryann.

It’s been three months since he joined the Adult Rec League, and this is their first game of the summer. He’s been practicing hard, ever since Ronin agreed to let him split his duties with Declan— yeah, that actually happened. Co-CEO’s. The change has been unreal.

The game is intense, the scoreboard flickering with numbers I don’t understand, all eyes glued to Ryann’s movements. Especially mine. Even on the court, he’s in control.

“Hot damn,” KC breathes beside me, fanning himself dramatically as he scans the players. “I might have to start coming here if the men look like that. ”

Carpenter just rolls his eyes in response.

Ryann dribbles the ball down the court, his powerful legs carrying him past defenders. My heart jumps as he pulls up for a shot, the ball arcing through the air before swishing cleanly into the net. The crowd erupts into cheers, including my friends, but my focus stays on Ryann’s small, satisfied smile as he jogs back to his team’s side, warmth flooding my chest.

Watching him like this, I’m both ridiculously proud and kind of turned on, if I’m being honest. This is the Ryann I love, the man who can command both a boardroom and basketball court like nobody’s business.

As the game winds down, I find myself getting more into it, even cheering a few times when he makes an impressive play—though I quickly duck inside my hood afterward. But I know he notices. I can tell by the way his eyes find mine in the crowd after every shot.

The final buzzer sounds, and Ryann’s team emerges victorious. The players gather at the center of the court, clapping each other on the back, their faces flushed and glowing. Ryann’s hair is damp with sweat, his grin wide and carefree, more relaxed than he’s been in months. Seeing him in basketball shorts was a shock at first, so different from the tailored suits I’m used to, but now I love this side of him.

He seems more authentic, more himself.

More mine.

Once the team begins to disperse, his gaze sweeps over the bleachers until it locks on me, a look passing between us. He jogs over, still catching his breath but smiling crookedly in a way that has my stomach fluttering.

“So?” He prods, his voice slightly hoarse as he runs a hand through his damp strands.

“You’re so hot,” I blurt out, the words tumbling from my lips before I can stop them. With heated cheeks, I duck my head. “I-I mean, you were amazing out there. Incredible.”

He laughs loudly, sending a shiver down my spine. “Thanks, doll. I’m glad you came.”

Haven’t yet, but I’m about to.

“Wouldn’t have missed it.”

Reaching out to squeeze my hand with a wink, he leans down to kiss my lips. “I have to debrief with the team and shower, then I’ll take you to dinner.”

Yeah, so that’s a thing now. Dates. Plural. He’s been making up for lost time, and he’s fed me so much over the past few months that I actually fit into my pants now.

I’ll admit, the day I had to work a little harder to button my jeans wasn’t great… but with Dr. Iskar’s help—and Ryann’s—I’m learning to love myself, flaws and all. Not one hundred percent, but I’m getting there. It doesn’t hurt that Ryann treats me like something precious every single day.

As we leave the gym, KC falls into step beside me, twiddling his fingers at the players we pass. “Think Ry will introduce me to his team?”

“I don’t know, maybe?” I glance at him, trying not to laugh. “Which ones do you want to meet?”

He smirks. “All of them. At the same time. Preferably naked.”

Carpenter mutters something under his breath, but we ignore him like usual, heading toward the concessions near the pool. It’s not until I slide into a seat and pull out my phone that I notice Mom’s message waiting in my inbox.

Birthgiver:

Hey, sweetheart. Your father asked if you could come to dinner this weekend so that you both can talk. He misses you.

I blink at the text for several seconds, my fingers hovering over the screen as I think of how to respond. I haven’t seen or spoken to my dad since the night he kicked me out. Every time I went home to grab clothes, schoolwork, or my rat, he was conveniently on duty.

The whole time my nose was healing, he never once reached out to ask if I was okay. That hurt—honestly, everything he said that night still hurts. But I’ve moved past sadness. Now, I’m just pissed off. According to my therapist, that’s natural.

Spending a few minutes typing and deleting responses, I listen distractedly as KC and Carpenter bicker over what constitutes acceptable pool attire. My side warms as Ryann slips in beside me, the leathery scent of his soap flooding my senses.

“What’s got that frown on your face, baby?” he asks, dropping a soft kiss on top of my head.

Sliding my phone toward him, I show him the message. “My dad wants to see me.”

His hazel eyes meet mine, flecks of green swirling in golden pools. “But do you want to see him?”

“I…” My voice trails off. Do I? “What if he just says more mean things?”

“Then we’ll leave,” he smiles, squeezing my hand gently.

I squint an eye at him. “ We?”

“You want to go alone?”

Okay, fair point. He’s got me there.

But…

Dropping my gaze, I fiddle with the pop socket on my phone, suddenly feeling awkward. Even though Paige knows about us now, my parents don’t.

“Are you gonna come with me as my boss, or my friend, or…?” I let my voice trail off, my cheeks heating.

Ryann reaches out, tilting my chin up with a finger as his eyes search mine. “Is that all we are, doll face? Just friends who fuck and live together?”

KC gasps dramatically, reminding me we have an audience witnessing this painful display.

Leaning toward Carpenter, he whispers, “ They were roommates. ”

Carpenter gives him a confused look. “So are we.”

“Never mind, straight boy, you don’t get it.”

“Shilo?” Ryann prompts, drawing my attention back to him.

I squirm, shrugging. “I dunno. Boyfriend sounds weird, doesn’t it? Like…” I flounder for a second, trying to find the words. “You’re so much more than that.”

It sounds dumb, but it’s true. I can’t explain it.

A slow smile spreads across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes as his thumb grazes my lips. “How about ‘partners’?”

Grimacing, I shrug again, resisting the urge to suck his thumb into my mouth in front of my friends. “Still sounds weird, but I guess.”

“Like you’re a bunch of cowboys,” Carpenter quips, pointing finger guns at KC. “This town ain’t big enough for the two of us, pard’ner. ”

His attempt at a Southern accent is atrocious. Downright embarrassing. KC stares at him blankly before turning back to us.

“‘Partner’ is good. It’s all-inclusive. Gets the point across. I still think ‘boyfriend’ is super cute, but yeah, it’s an odd term for Ry. He hasn’t exactly been boyfriend goals, has he?”

“Thanks for the insight,” Ryann says dryly, sarcasm lacing his tone. “I do so appreciate your opinions on my relationship.”

“As you should.” KC winks at me before grabbing Carpenter by the shirt, yanking him to his feet. “C’mon, Carpenter, darling. Let’s give these lovebirds some space. Great game, by the way.”

As they leave, I take advantage of their absence, gently biting down on Ryann’s thumb. His sharp inhale sends a rush of heat through me, his gaze darkening.

“So, is that a yes to supper with your parents this weekend?”

I mull it over, mentally listing the pros and cons.

I do miss my dad. We may have never liked the same things, but I miss his advice, his jokes, his wild stories from work at dinner. He’s still a part of me. But can I handle hearing him say again that I deserved to get hit for being myself?

At least Ryann will be there this time. And Mom. Between the two of them expecting the worst, maybe it won’t be as bad as I’m imagining.

After several minutes of silent debate, I groan, letting my forehead thud against Ryann’s broad chest.

“Fine. We can go. But I’m bringing Master Splinter for moral support.”

The familiar scent of Mom’s cooking squeezes my chest as we step into the living room Friday night. It’s been months since I’ve had it, and while Ryann’s attempts at making us food are sweet, they don’t compare. Call me a Mama’s Boy—I don’t care.

Holding Master Splinter against my chest like a shield, I crane my neck over Mom’s shoulder as she greets us by the stairs. My stomach twists with nerves, despite the pangs of hunger I’m still getting used to. Eating regularly has been an adjustment. After years of ignoring hunger, it’s like my body is waking up, always demanding to be fed. Something about getting my groove back, or so my therapist says.

“He’s out back,” Mom says as I glance nervously around the room, her gaze flicking to Ryann’s hand on my hip.

“Mom, uh…” I cough, feeling hot and sticky despite my loose tank top. “I know you’ve met him before, but I wanted to reintroduce Ryann as my… partner.”

That’s going to take some getting used to.

Mom’s eyes light up, and she pulls Ryann into a hug before he can even extend his hand. He grunts in surprise but hugs her back, smiling indulgently.

“So you’re the reason my Shilo has been so much happier,“ she teases, grinning up at him, and he tosses me a sideways glance.

“I’d like to take all the credit, but I’m certain his friends have a lot to do with it.”

“Meh,” I shrug, though it’s probably true. KC, Carpenter and Tina have become my biggest supporters, even if they drive me nuts half the time.

Mom cups my cheek, her expression warm. “Your father is grilling steaks. Why don’t you go outside and say hi? He’s been so excited to see you.”

Swallowing hard, I give her a tight nod and head toward the back door, Ryann close behind. Mid-evening sun bathes the small backyard in golden light as we step onto the porch, Dad’s favorite band, Boston, playing softly on the radio while he whistles along at the grill. He hasn’t noticed us yet.

I’m frickin nervous. The last time I saw him, he kicked me out and told me I dressed like a queer. My outfit today—silky tank top, tan cinch pants, and jeweled flip-flops—is probably not what he’d consider “manly.” Ryann bent me over the counter this morning when I came out wearing it, though, so at least he likes it.

My hair is also long enough to curl under my chin, which Dad never tolerated when I was in high school. He always demanded pressed and neat.

Yeah, this was definitely a bad idea. In fact, we should probably escape while he’s distracted and make up an excuse. Tell him Master Splinter has the flu, and I wouldn’t want to make anyone sick. Humans can catch the flu from rats, right? Or was that the plague? Whatever it is, my rat has it, and it’s contagious.

Spinning around, I’m about to grab Ryann and make a run for it when Dad catches the movement from the corner of his eye. We freeze, staring at each other, but he recovers first, laughing nervously as he scratches his ball cap.

“You startled me,” he says, running his gaze over me. I brace for disgust or judgment, but all I see is… relief. “It’s good to see you, son. You look… healthy.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, setting Master Splinter on my shoulder. An awkward silence stretches before Dad clears his throat.

“Mr. Callahan, nice to see you again. Wasn’t expecting ya.”

Ryann’s arm slips around my waist, pulling me close. “Likewise.”

His tone is even, but I catch the subtle way he bristles over being called Mr. Callahan. If I wasn’t so anxious right now, I’d probably giggle.

Dad glances between us, stunned, before turning back to the grill, his neck slightly pink. “Food’ll be done shortly. Make yourselves comfortable.”

So we do. Ryann leads me to the outdoor table under an umbrella, a light sprinkle cooling the air. His hand rests on my thigh, possessive yet comforting, and I lean into him as we make small talk until the steaks are ready. He’s become super affectionate over the last few months, and I’m not complaining. Like, at all.

Mom eventually joins us with her pasta salad, sliding into the seat next to Dad as he gestures at the spread of food.

“Alright, folks. Dig in.”

The homesickness hits hard as we all start to eat, making me sad. I don’t feel like my usual self here—like I’m walking on eggshells, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Ryann fills my plate first, piling on pasta and veggies before serving himself. When there’s one steak left, Dad frowns.

“Not feeling like steak today, son?”

My first instinct is to lie, tell him I’m just not hungry like I’ve always done. But Ryann brushes his fingers down my arm reassuringly, and I lick my lips before shaking my head.

“I, uh, don’t really like meat.”

There. It’s done. Wasn’t so hard.

Dad blinks, his frown deepening. “Since when?”

“Since forever.”

He studies me, a multitude of emotions crossing his features before he huffs and tears into his food. “Wish ya would have said something, but I’ll never say no to two steaks.”

That’s it. That’s all he says. No lecture about men needing protein or how I need to bulk up. He just accepts it and moves on, which is…surprising. And not at all what I was expecting.

Mom smiles, nudging my leg under the table. “Shilo and Ryann are dating. Did they tell you?”

Dad grunts, shaking his head around his food. “No, but I figured it out.”

A beat of silence passes as we all eat.

“And…?” My mom prompts, elbowing him in the side. “What do you have to say?”

“Christ’s sake, Sheila, can we at least get through the meal?” Dad reaches up to rub the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable but not upset. He’s never been good at expressing emotions, but thankfully, I always had Mom and Paige for that.

“It’s okay,” I say quickly, squirming in my seat. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“No, it’s not okay. Your mother’s right, I have things to tell you. Just let me get my words together.” He stares off toward Mom’s lilac bushes, gathering his thoughts. “The day you were born, Shilo, I was so proud to have a son. So excited. Your grandfather raised us with a firm hand, and all I could think was ‘ man, I can’t wait to give this kid everything I never had .’”

“You did,” I rush out, not wanting him to think I’m ungrateful.

“But there’s more to being a parent than just giving you things,” he continues, swinging his gaze to mine, and I’m shocked to find it glistening. “I got so stuck on who I thought you should be that I didn’t give you the choice to be who you are. The words I said to you were inexcusable, and I’m sorry, son.”

“Dad, no.” My eyes water before I know it, and I leave my seat to give him a hug. “You were a good dad, the best.”

Call me weak, but no kid wants to see their parents cry. And now that we’re both crying, Mom joins in, making this situation ten times worse.

“I’m the man of this family, and I was supposed to protect you,” Dad says, wiping his eyes. “I failed you, kid. Will you give your old man a chance to do better?”

With a nod and sniffle, I back up until Ryann pulls me onto his lap. “I only ever wanted you to be proud of me. To accept the fact that I’m not like you.”

My dad huffs. “No, you’re not, and thank God for that. You took after your mother. It doesn’t matter who you are, you’re still my son.” Pausing, his face twists thoughtfully. “Or, uh…daughter, you know, if that’s what you decide.”

I choke on my spit as Mom smacks him on the shoulder in outrage. “Mark, he’s gay , not trans!”

“Christ almighty, I’m trying here, woman!”

Despite how offensive that comment was, a laugh bubbles out of me. It was such a Dad thing to say.

As long as he’s willing to try, actually try, then I don’t mind correcting him when he gets it wrong. Because, let’s be honest, he probably will. A lot. But if he can listen and change, accept me for who I am, that’s all I can ask for.

Ryann holds me close while my parents bicker, his lips brushing my hair. “You alright?”

Master Splinter nibbles on my hair, drawing my attention, and I reach up to pet him with a smile. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

This time, I mean it. I really am. I don’t think I’ve ever been better.

He smiles brightly, making my stomach flip when he nibbles on my ear. “I love you, doll. I’m so proud of you.”

His praise has me clenching my legs as I cough into my arm, fighting with my dick to stay soft. If I get hard in front of my parents, I’ll simply pass away. I swear.

“Well, anyway,” Dad grumbles, giving Mom an affectionately exasperated glance before returning to us. “Introduce me to your boyfriend, Shilo. Formally, this time.”

“We actually prefer the term partner,” I tell him, sliding off Ryann’s lap so they can shake hands. “Dad, Ryann. Ryann, Dad.”

“As long as you treat him right, we’ll have no issues,” Dad says, eyeing Ryann sternly, who smiles at me with a wink.

“Oh, I plan on it. For as long as he’ll have me.”

I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around—Ryann can have me for as long as he wants, and as many times, too. I don’t say that out loud, though.

As I bite back the urge to mumble something completely ridiculous, I catch Ryann’s eye and realize it doesn’t matter.

Even if I did, he’d still look at me like I’m the best damn thing that’s ever happened to him.

And I feel exactly the same way.