Page 20 of Santino (The Camboy Network #4)

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

SANTINO

I don’t know what’s happening, but I know it’s bad. Mom never looked like this. She was sad and tired a lot. But she never looked like she was getting axe murdered by some invisible demon.

I couldn’t stop worrying about him all afternoon. At Rockefeller Center, when we checked out a few shops, when we went up the Chrysler Building. I was only half there, half registering the stuff around me. The other half was back home, wondering what Hayden was doing. Hoping he was okay.

Bellamy asked if I wanted to grab dinner before heading home. I said I was going to have dinner with Hayden.

The apartment was quiet when I let myself in and my heart sank. I’d kept telling myself Hayden just needed some downtime. That he would be in the living room reading or maybe in the kitchen cooking. That I was getting all worked up over nothing.

But the apartment was empty.

And not just empty, but like, eerily silent. It felt like there was some other presence in the space. Lurking in the corners. Making the air toxic. A shiver of fear ran up my spine and my stomach filled with dread.

Hayden was a lump in his bed when I cracked open his door. He looked like he was sleeping and I stood there for a few minutes, not sure what to do. My gut told me something was seriously wrong, but I didn’t want to wake him up and demand he start talking.

For a moment, I thought about calling Sebastian.

The others don’t seem to have the slightest clue about anything, but Sebastian obviously knows there’s more going on with Hayden than meets the eye.

I just don’t know why he hasn’t done anything about it.

I mean, they’re all supposed to be close, right?

Why aren’t they helping him? Are they really too preoccupied with their own lives to watch out for him?

To make sure he doesn’t slip through the cracks? Why am I the only one who sees this?

I quietly stepped out to let Hayden sleep, but the moment the door closed, there were a bunch of muffled sounds. Kind of like he was suffocating. Like someone was strangling him and he was thrashing around, trying to escape.

I hesitated. Mom sometimes wanted us to leave her alone, even when we didn’t think she should be by herself.

Hayden was probably pretending to be asleep, so maybe he didn’t want me to see him like this.

I feel like I’ve gotten to know him pretty well over the past weeks, but maybe he’s had too much of me.

Maybe I should follow his lead and give him some privacy.

But I couldn’t make myself leave. Not when the sounds got worse. Like he was in agony. Like he was dying. How could I ignore that? How could I leave him to suffer through that alone?

I couldn’t.

So I went back in, climbed onto the bed, and held him until the crying slowed and he eventually fell asleep.

The room was filled with so much sadness that the air felt heavy and sour.

Every breath was anguish. Every cry was torture.

I don’t know why Hayden feels so sad. I don’t know what happened today to trigger this break.

But my heart hurts to see him so broken and defeated.

I doze on and off for a while. My stomach growls with hunger from the dinner we missed. There’s probably food in the fridge, but I don’t want to leave Hayden, not even for a second.

It’s well into the middle of the night before Hayden stirs again. He groans and struggles to push the blankets off. Which I’ve made harder by lying on top of them. I roll away to give him room and he tenses when he realizes he’s not alone.

He sits up, shoulders rising and falling as he takes deep breaths to gather himself. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly, curling in on himself as if he’s expecting me to lash out at him or something.

I bristle. He has nothing to be sorry for. There’s nothing he needs to be ashamed of. I hate that he feels he has to apologize. I might not know exactly what’s happening with him, but I know that whatever it is, it’s not his fault.

I put a hand on his shoulder. He tenses for a split second before leaning into the touch. I scoot closer to him and press my body against his. He melts into me, letting me wrap him up and hold his weight. “You hungry?

“Not really.”

Not the answer I was hoping for because hell, I’m hungry. “Oh… well… I kind of am. Want to eat with me anyway?”

I can’t really see Hayden’s face, but I can sense his hesitation. He wants to lie back down and go to sleep again. He wants to bury his head under some pillows and block out the rest of the world. Which like, I get, but the dude’s gotta eat, right?

“Come on.” I give him a playful shake. “Please?”

It takes him another moment or two, but he eventually gives me a tentative nod.

Hayden lets me lead the way as we shuffle out to the kitchen, then hangs back when I open the fridge to see what our options are.

“I think there’s some cheese in the deli drawer,” Hayden’s voice is groggy and rough, and even though I know he’s hurting, the low, rumbly sound sends warmth spreading through me.

I pull open the deli drawer to find several types of cheese that I’ve never heard of. I pull them all out, along with the grapes I spot in the fruit drawer.

“Crackers are over there.” He points to a cupboard.

I’m not a cook. I don’t trust myself to boil water. But I know how to wash grapes and cut up cheese. I make a pretty impressive plate, enough for both of us, while Hayden watches with his arms wrapped around his middle.

My mind races for something to fill the heavy silence with, but something tells me Hayden doesn’t want to talk. So I bite my lip and let the silence stretch. It’s okay not to talk. Sometimes all we need is to be with someone, to be present, to let them know they’re not alone.

I hold up the plate and selfishly nod toward the window. It’s so stuffy in here with all the sadness and hurt and despair. “Want to sit outside?”

Hayden hesitates again before nodding. We climb out and squish in side-by-side on the steps. I dive into the cheese and crackers and after a few nudges, Hayden nibbles on some too.

Outside is still pretty hot and muggy despite being the middle of the night. The heat hasn’t cleared even though the sun’s gone down. Over the tops of the buildings around us, the sky glows with light from the city. The sounds of cars and sirens in the distance are a constant, unending soundtrack.

When the plate is empty, I set it aside and sling an arm around Hayden’s shoulders to haul him to me. He doesn’t resist, letting me slot him into my side. “You don’t have to talk about it,” I say, whisper-quiet. “But I’m here to listen if you want to.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. And that’s cool. I said he didn’t have to. But when he does, it’s in the tiniest, most heart-wrenching voice. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

I have so many questions. Like, does he have any suspicions? How long has this been going on for? What does it feel like when he has one of these episodes? Why doesn’t he want his friends to know?

“It’s been getting worse.”

My heart breaks and I swallow down a grunt of pain.

“There’s this voice.” He speaks slowly, with long pauses between each sentence. “In my head. It says things. I know they’re not true, but… they feel true.”

“What kinds of things?” I’m not sure I actually want to know.

They can’t be anything good. But I think he needs to say them out loud.

So they’re not bouncing around inside his head, growing louder and louder with each ricochet.

So someone else can hear them, witness them, and tell him he’s not crazy.

“Bad things. About me.”

“Mmhmm.” I try to keep my breathing even. Slow and steady. Calming.

“It says… I’m a loser.”

My deep inhale is involuntary, an indignant reaction to the utterly unfounded statement.

“That I’m pathetic. Worthless. Unlovable.” His voice cracks and he buries his face into the crook of my neck.

I hold him there, fingers carding through his hair as his shoulders shake from silent sobs.

“Why?” he wails quietly. “Why is this happening to me? Why won’t it stop?”

“I don’t know, babe. I don’t know.” I sniffle as tears fill my eyes. I wish there was something I could do, something that would take away his pain.

“I just want it to go away.”

“We’ll figure something out. We’ll get you help,” I promise him. Mom went to see a therapist before she started getting better. She was even on medication for a bit. I’m not an expert, but that feels like a good first step: find a professional who knows more than we do.

“Please. Please.” Hayden clings to me, fisting my shirt in his hands like he’s afraid I’ll disappear on him.

“I’m here. I’m not leaving. You’re not alone. I’ve got you.” Tears spill down my cheeks, but I don’t bother wiping them away. I want to cry them. I want to feel them wet my face. I can’t imagine how many tears Hayden’s shed in all of this. It’s the least I can do to cry a few with him.

We eventually make our way back inside. Hayden’s kind of comatose, eyes unfocused and a little unsteady on his feet. He goes where I direct him, shuffling along slowly as if he’s walking through water.

Instead of taking him back to his room, I lead him to the bathroom. We’ve both slept and cried and sweated in our street clothes and we could both use a shower before climbing back into bed.

I crank on the water and help him undress. He goes in first and I strip quickly to follow him. The shower isn’t really big enough for two grown men and we have to bear hug each other to keep from falling over.

Despite the seriousness and heaviness of the past several hours, my body can’t help but react to a naked Hayden in my arms. Hard muscles. Wet skin. My dick stirs and I try my best to keep my hips away from him.

I help him soap down, running my hands over his broad shoulders that narrow to a slim waist. A rounded ass I’d love to sink my teeth into. Thick thighs and muscled calves.

I turn him around. Golden blond hairs dust the tops of his toes and his calves.

His quads flex under my touch. Then I’m face to face with his cock, completely soft but still impressively huge.

I’m gentle as I make sure to get all the little crevices, lifting his balls to get between his legs.

He sighs as I work, leaning against the wall.

Through the mist of the shower, I glance up at this man standing before me. His eyes are closed. His brows are furrowed. Every few seconds, his face muscles twitch like he’s flinching from some unseen attack.

Protectiveness like I’ve never felt before rises up in me.

As the baby of the family, I’m usually the one who gets coddled and protected, even when I don’t want to be.

But now, with Hayden, I want to be the protector.

I want to take care of him and keep him safe.

I want to be the person he can turn to, no matter what, the person who will always be there for him, no matter how bad things get.

I soap up his stomach, then his chest. His eyes blink lazily open when I reach his shoulders and quickly wash each arm. He watches me through clumped lashes, lips hooded over his brilliant green eyes. Lip rosy and swollen from where he’s been chewing on them.

I brush his wet hair away from his face and he turns into my hand like a touch-starved puppy.

Eyes drifting shut again, he doesn’t resist when I pull him into my arms. Bare chest against bare chest. Stomach against stomach.

My semi is nestled against his hip, but I don’t care if he notices anymore.

All that matters is that he knows I’m here for him. That he can always count on me.