Page 69 of Keep Me

“What if I don’t want more things to care about? Adding more people into my life who can leave sounds like setting myself up for pain,” I scoff, raking my fingers through my hair, hating how vulnerable I sound.

It’s like that kid who’s hurting over his dad is still there deep down, protecting present me from experiencing that shit again. I wish I could tell him to scram. It’d make shit a lot easier, but it’s also gotten me to where I am today.

Her cautious voice pulls my focus back to her. “You know there’s a chance every time you step on that baseball field, it could be your last. All it takes is the right injury, and poof, everything’s gone.” She snaps her fingers for the full effect.

“That chance is always there. The same applies to relationships in all forms: family, friends, and lovers. The risk of losing them will always be there, but it’s a heck of a lot more fun to enjoy whatever it is you have with them while you can, instead of isolating yourself in fear.”

Sadly, she’s not wrong. Thinking I can live a pain-free life is a delusional way of living. I simply don’t want to increase my odds of getting hurt. While I know what she’s saying is true, it’ll take some time for me to accept it. It’s not to say I’ll make a total one-eighty degree change, but I could start by offering her the friendship she’s been seeking from me.

My lips lift to the right in a smirk. “When did you get so wise?”

“Therapy.”

We both chuckle at that, but I cut it short. “I’m sorry for being distant when all you’ve been is kind.”

“Would we be true siblings if we got along at all times?” she teases, eating another handful of popcorn.

I smile at that, which causes her to perk up. “I don’t have any siblings, at least that I know of, but I’d like to be yours and Nate’s.” I extend the olive branch, feeling like I might pass out.

“Of course. You already are.” She smiles, then asks, “Have you talked to your dad at all?”

“No.” My answer is curt. Knowing it’s not the way I want to keep doing things, I explain, “Neither my mom nor I have heard from or seen him since the day he left when I was twelve. We could look him up online, but what’s the point? He doesn’t give a fuck about me, and the feeling is mutual.”

She places her hand on mine, giving it a quick squeeze before removing it. “I’m so sorry, Ryker. I’m grateful you get to be a part of my family, and even if there’s a day we’re legally not, you’ll always be my brother.”

“All right, enough with the emotional stuff. I can’t take it.” I look up at the ceiling, blinking away the emotions coming to the surface.

Before I know what’s happening, Aurora’s hugging me, and fuck, I can’t hold it in anymore. Tears leak down my cheeks as I let out years of emotions onto her shoulder. When you bottle shit up, it’ll make you break when you least expect it.

All that fear and pain slowly drift away as I let it out. Aurora doesn’t say anything, rubbing my back in a comforting way. It feels good to be chosen for once. It may not be by my own blood, but somehow that makes it better, knowing they don’t have to but are anyways.

Once I’ve calmed down, I pull away from her, feeling slightly embarrassed as I wipe at my cheeks.

“It’s okay to cry. You can still be a badass who drives a motorcycle and has tattoos.” She grins, then pulls the bowl of popcorn on her lap. “I’m finishing this. I hope that’s okay.”

“Thank you, Ro, I appreciate it.” I smile, then slide over to grab the bowl of popcorn. “I’ll take this back, though. Get your own popcorn.”

“See, you got this brother thing down pat already.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Camille

Ithink I might pass out.

After my rendezvous with Ryker in the showers the other night and again in my bed later on, I momentarily forgot what I was worried about when I went looking for him in the change room.

Until Quentin texted me this morning.

Seeing that after having his detective look into the repercussions of my getting hit in the face at the game last night has me on edge. Quentin’s in the middle of his own baseball season, so if he’s flying here, it can’t be good.

Putain, je suis foutue.

It looks like I’ll be missing classes today, so I pull up my text thread with Jasmine and send her a text.

It’s not a total lie. Quentin is visiting. But am I okay? I guess only time will tell.

I glance at the time, seeing I have about two hours until he gets here. To pass the time, I do my best to reduce the anxiety brewing in my stomach. I meditate, shower, eat, and even watch some gardening videos, but nothing seems to help.

---