Page 11 of Only the Small Bones
I’d broached the subject of ending our work relationship after putting an end to our intimate one. The mere suggestion had caused a huge argument. From Xavier’s perspective, if I couldn’t give him my heart, then I could at least help him fulfill his professional dreams. We’d won our first Academy Award shortly after.
“Well, what about work?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest. “We have deadlines to meet, William. Maybe you don’t mind puttingyourlife on hold whenever someone in need comes calling, but I still have goals I’d like to meet. What you do affects me too.”
“I know that,” I said, taken aback by his clipped tone. For the most part Xavier had a mild temperament, and rarely needed to raise his voice or sharpen his tone to get his point across. “He should only be here for another week. Two at the most.” Even I heard the uncertainty in my voice. Seven days had passed and Ryan still hadn’t spoken. I didn’t even know if he could.
Xavier shook his head, muttering something in Spanish before running a hand through his wavy hair. He was beautiful, sensual and elegant. Especially when reduced to begging me for mercy in his native language while I used his body to the brink of collapse. Life would’ve been easier if he was enough to make me different, to make me forget about my past.
“Do you have an hour to spare now to run through the final edits I sent you last night?”
“You know that isn’t possible, Xavier.”
“Why not? He can’t expect you not to work.”
His jealousy and frustration made him insensitive. This wasn’t normally who he was. He seemed to be on the cusp of an explosion. I took full responsibility for that.
“Because you’re a surprise, and surprises aren’t ideal. He needs predictability right now.” We’d gone through this before, but each time he made me repeat it again. Maybe hoping I’d ‘see the light’ at some point, or hoping each occurrence would be a reminder to him of what I would always put first, assisting with him getting over his feelings for me.
He chewed his lip, looking helpless and lost, as if hearing the familiar words hadn’t lessened his feelings at all.
“I’ll have to rearrange our current schedule, yet again,” he said with undisguised irritation. “Two weeks?” he asked as though needing me to promise. I couldn’t, because it would only make things worse when in two weeks not much had changed. We both knew that could be the case.
Xavier had a point, though. We had important deadlines looming, and he’d need to be here for us to meet them.
“I plan on having my mother over for dinner at some point. I’ll tell him about you. Let him know you may be joining us. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“Okay,” he said, before nodding and walking away. He stopped after a few steps. “I’m really happy for you, William.For Davidson, for the people recovered. I know how much this means to you.” Except he didn’t know how much it meant to me, not really. Because he didn’tknowme. No one did.
I knew something was off the moment I entered the apartment. That sort of feeling you get when something bad is about to happen, or has happened. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
“Ryan?” I set my duffle bag on the floor before taking off for his open bedroom door. The mattress and bedding were on the floor, one of the bedside lamps lay on its side, the other one shattered. The chipped paint on the wall confirmed how it’d been broken.
“Ryan?” I called louder, jogging down the hall. “What the…” I peered around the kitchen. The cabinets were thrown open, dishes smashed to pieces along the counters, stove and sink. Something crunched under my shoe. Broken glass.
Panic set in, locking my brain and my limbs. A muffled sound of pure agony sent me spinning around, and I had to grab hold of the wall to avoid slipping on the debris littering the floor.
Ryan stood heaving in the far corner of the living room, crushed against the window. Fist sized blood stains peppered the glass, like he’d been trying to beat his way out. He made that guttural sound again. A trapped, primitive baying that came from somewhere deep in his chest. Calling it a sound almost minimized it. A more apt description would’ve been misery. That’s what it sounded like to my ears.
“Ryan,” I breathed, still unable to comprehend what the hell had happened. His hair hung around his face, his gaze vicious. He looked dangerous, unhinged, but most of all… scared. Utterly, heartbreakingly scared. But why?
I searched my brain for a reason, finding an obvious one. Because I’d left him. Ilefthim.
Swallowing down the acrid truth of that, I took a step in his direction, needing to find the source of the bleeding and make it stop. He shrank back deeper into the glass. I halted. “I left you a note,” I said, turning my head toward the kitchen. The note was torn to shreds, scattered among the mess.
I thought over the seven words I’d written down.“Went for a run. I’ll be back.”
The last three played on a loop in my head, making my insides hurt.I’ll be back… I’ll be back… I’ll be back…
“Did you think I wouldn’t come back? I live here,” I said instead of the pointless drivel I’d been about to say.I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t abandon you.“My things are here. My life is here.”Youare here.A rational mind would have understood these things, but I had to remember unaddressed fear would overrule logic every time. I’d need to be more mindful of what could potentially be a trigger for him.
Seeing droplets of blood hit the floor threatened to tear apart my patience. I needed to get to him. I needed to find his wound, to find the source of the bleeding and make it stop. As though sensing my intentions, he hid his hands behind his back.
“How hurt are you?” I continued. “If you won’t let me look at it, then at least let me get you the first aid kit so you can clean and examine it yourself.”
He still said nothing. I thought about all the things I could have done differently. Thought about what I would’ve needed from him, right now, if our roles were reversed. I also recalled something I’d said to Xavier downstairs.
“He needs predictability.”
We had a routine going here, and he’d come to count on it. Maybe even trust it without realizing it. And then he woke up,and I was gone. He’d depended on me being here for him, and maybe he hated realizing that.
