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)
“Please don’t,” Chris begged, his voice breaking; he stared at them with something stark and haggard in his eyes, and Damon realized...that fear went deeper than either of them knew.
What was Chris afraid of?
What had him so terrified that he would suffer through this to keep his secret?
And how could they not call his parents, when his exposed flesh was a map of pain and abuse, and they needed to know what was happening to their son?
Damon didn’t know what to say. And Rian remained silent as well, hazel eyes fixing on Damon with a sort of helpless, hopeless question dwelling in their depths.
A question neither of them had the chance to ask.
When Nurse Hadley stepped into the doorway, her stern, square frame blocking the sunlight streaming in from the hall outside.
“That’s it,” she said, her voice flinty. “I told you not to agitate him. It’s time for both of you to go.”
Damon didn’t have it in him to argue right now.
He only rested his hand on Chris’s ankle, squeezing through the thin drape of the blankets, then slid off the bed. Rian flashed Chris a small, almost apologetic smile, one that seemed to say Please. Please, trust us...
Before Rian turned and slipped past Damon, pausing only for a moment.
His hand curled against Damon’s arm. That butterfly, flitting to rest, lingering warm and soft, a wordless inquiry, a silent entreaty.
Then he stepped out into the hall.
And, drawn as if Rian had Damon on a leash...
Damon followed, with one last look back for the boy who watched them as if he was watching his last and only hope walk away from him.
Chapter Ten
Rian barely managed to wait for the door to close behind Damon, shutting off that wrenching, heartbreaking sight of Chris lying bruised and forlorn in that bed.
Before he exploded.
“Someone is hurting that boy,” he flung out, pacing a few steps down the hall, then back, digging his hands into his hair and grasping up handfuls. “Damon, someone did that to him! He didn’t do that in the gym!”
“I know,” Damon said grimly, leaning against the wall next to the door. His face was a mask of stone, his eyes burning dark and frustrated. “But he doesn’t really seem to want to tell us who.”
“I don’t understand.” Rian’s throat ached, tight and closing tighter. He stopped, forcing himself to take a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Is he protecting the person who’s hurting him? Is that what’s happening? Why would he do that?”
“Abusive relationship, maybe,” Damon said with a tight shrug that looked like it was trying to be diffident, but only gave away his tension when his shoulders were drawn so hard, muscle standing out in stark relief against his T-shirt. “Or even consenting kink. Or non-consenting kink.”
Rian just stared at him. “I can’t know that about him. He’s sixteen. I can’t picture him like that. You really think that’s what he’s involved with?”
Damon paused, working his jaw, then sighed. “...no. I don’t know what the hell this is, but I know I don’t like it.”
“What about his parents?” Rian dragged through his mind, trying to come up with something, anything that would make sense, turning over possibility after possibility. “Could they be the ones who abused him? Is that why he’s so afraid to call them?”
“That might make sense if his parents lived in Massachusetts,” Damon pointed out. “Sneaking home to see them because they demanded it, or whatever reasons. But I think he’s from California. Somewhere out there on the West Coast.”
“Then a bully,” Rian insisted. “What about that Theo boy? The one who was terrorizing Jay and the others last semester?”
Damon only let out a long, slow breath through his nose, thudding his head back against the wall. He said nothing for long moments, and Rian fought the overwhelming urge to just...just...
Throw himself against Damon.
Bury his face in his chest, and take comfort from his warmth; take comfort from the fact that they weren’t working on this alone, and they were both doing everything they could to figure out the right thing to do for Chris.
He just wanted to wrap his arms around Damon’s neck, and tell Damon it would be okay.
But Rian couldn’t make that promise.
Finally, though, Damon said, “There was an incident, in Chris’s freshman year. First semester. First scrimmage.” He spoke slowly, his eyes slightly unfocused, a touch of fondness in his voice. “Chris was... Chris. A natural. Good at everything. But there were a few other kids, too. Real good. Angling for starting spots on the JV team. But this sophomore, David Lane...he’d been the star starter the year before. He didn’t want to lose his spot to some freshies. So he’d do all these things to put the fear of God and David Lane into them. Corner them. Intimidate them. He was smart enough not to go after Chris—sharks know better than to go after a blue whale, most of the time—but he was going to run every last other top-scoring freshman off the team if he could.”