Page 10 of Only the Small Bones
Slowly, I got to my feet, inching toward the hall and staring at Ryan’s closed bedroom door. The faintest hint of a smile spread across my lips as I realized that with this small, insignificant gesture, he’d taken care of me. He’d returned the favor.
William
The sky held onto its gloom, and the puddles were large enough to take a swim in. At least the rain had eased up enough for me to resume my morning runs. I’d left before sun-up and hadn’t wanted to wake Ryan that early, so I left him a note on the refrigerator. The non-stop second guessing, questioning if that would be enough caused me to double back halfway through my usual circuit.
We’d crossed the one week mark, and there had only been one minor change. I no longer had to sample Ryan’s food before he ate—because now he meticulously watched me prepare everything. I think it was more about him enjoying the process than him not trusting me. For breakfast, lunch, and dinner, he’d perch at the edge of his favorite stool, engrossed while I worked the toaster and coffee machine.
We still hadn’t graduated from Eggos and Everything bagels. The sight of both now made me gag.
Ryan was particular about how much syrup made it onto his food. Too much and it made a mess, not enough and he choked from the dryness. Cream cheese was another matter. I couldn’t spot his bagel beneath the amount he slathered it with.
I could see he’d put on a few pounds. His long arms were still thin, his broad shoulders still boney beneath his shirt, but the hollows of his cheeks were less pronounced. I didn’t suspect he’d get too big, though. He seemed naturally lean, his frame a close match to Colson Baker’s.
He needed more nutrients though. We both did, which was why I’d been teasing the idea of my mother’s cooking bit by bit. When I’d mentioned she’d be coming by in less than a week, he hadn’t stormed away from the island like he did the day before.
Pushing through the building’s revolving doors, I slowed at seeing Xavier speaking with Steve at the concierge desk.Fuck.I’d been brushing him off all week. Him showing up unannounced meant he’d finally had enough of it.
Spotting me, Steve smiled and said something to Xavier. Xavier turned as I made it into the lobby, panting and wiping sweat from my brows. I wore compression tights and an equally form fitting tank, my typical running gear. Xavier had never made a secret of liking it. He gave me an appreciative once over before coming to meet me halfway.
“I know it’s not the most attractive thing to show up on your doorstep uninvited, but you left me little choice.” His annoyance made his Spanish accent thicker, his ‘R’s’ rolling.
“Xavier—”
“You left me in the middle of a performance with nothing more than a shout for me to cover for you, and a mention of something urgent needing your attention back home.” He handed my leather duffle over, packed with the items I’d left at the hotel.
“I’m sorry—”
“Then you ignore my calls and texts. What the fuck is going on, William?”
To be fair, he wasn’t the only one I’d ignored. I cleared my calendar of all upcoming appearances, and I’d left Freedom Fighters in the hands of the capable people I’d put in place to run it. It helped that I wasn’t responsible for the day-to-day. My other work commitments didn’t allow for it. Davidsons’ was the only call I’d returned, because I was invested in his investigation.
“Is everything okay?” Xavier pushed. “Is your mother—”
“She’s fine,” I cut in, laying my hands on his shoulders to calm him. I’d really screwed this up. His deep-set hazel eyes implored me to explain what was going on with me. I pulled him to the side as morning rush-hour foot traffic picked up in the lobby.
“I’d gotten a call from Davidson. They found a group of Americans they believed were trafficked.”
“Jesus,” Xavier exclaimed quietly, inching closer. “That’s amazing, William. I mean not—”
“I know what you meant.”
“That doesn’t explain why you needed to rush back. Or why I haven’t heard from you since.”
“Davidson needed my help with one of the survivors. They couldn’t get him to speak or accept medical attention.”
“Oh,” Xavier said, taking a step back. He peered toward the bank of elevators. “Let me guess. You’re the only one who can save him.” His expression was guarded now.
Xavier and I worked together, he’d been my replacement as concertmaster after I’d taken the position as conductor and music director of the New York Philharmonic. We became friends, and he eventually began working on outside ventures with me. He was talented. He was also attracted to me.
The attraction went both ways, but Xavier wasn’t the type who could handle a no-strings attached fling, no matter how much he professed otherwise. He’d lapsed into discussion of a possible future for us more than once. I couldn’t be who he wanted, who he deserved. There were limitations to what I could offer him.
I’d been upfront with him from the start, and he’d told me he could handle it. That it wasn’t my job to manage his expectations, and that if he fell, he wouldn’t blame me for it. He did fall, and I knew he believed it was my fault.
I heard it in his voice every time I had to leave in the middle of a work session, or cancel plans to tend to something related to Freedom Fighters. I felt it every time he forgave me after going pliant beneath me, screaming out his pleasure while stuffed full of my cock.
Xavier wanted more, he wanted to be my priority, and he couldn’t comprehend why that was impossible. He didn’t know that every spare part of me was abandoned in a field alongside my broken promises. I had nothing left for him.
My non-existent dating life didn’t help matters. My apathy toward romantic involvement with anyone else kept his hope alive. He believed I’d one day grow tired of running and choose him. We were stagnant in our own ways, and maybe subconsciously I encouraged his need to hold on. Because if it were to be someone one day, then why not him?
