Page 24 of Only the Small Bones
Ryan’s… an incredible artist.
What the fuck does this sketch mean?
Is he trying to tell me something?
Is it just a random sketch?
Am I overthinking this?
And finally…Ryan’s an artist.
Then I remembered something Xavier said before leaving yesterday.
“Has he even gotten any fresh air? Gotten some sunlight? Or have you kept him trapped in this beautiful prison?”
Could it be… “No,” I whispered, striding for the door, forgetting I wore nothing but the boxer briefs I’d fallen asleep in. I was too excited by the possibility of what this could mean to even remember to check if dry cum stained my chest. I pulled my door open with more force than needed. I exhaled shakily at what waited for me.
Ryan was sitting against the wall across from my room, dressed in the running gear I’d bought for him. He held a sheet of paper up, three words scrawled across it.
I want sun.
William
Ryan climbed to his feet. He’d chosen to wear the compression tights I’d ordered him. The same ones I preferred to run in. I’d gotten him every option I could think of. Tights, shorts, pants, tanks, t-shirts. He likely picked the tights because the weather was changing. With the first day of fall a week away, the mornings were cooler. Or maybe he chose them for the same reason I did. To keep my legs hidden—one area on them specifically.
He wore the running shoes I bought for him too. I’d purchased them after checking the size of the battered shoes he’d worn here.
It took me a moment to realize he was looking me over. I’d been too consumed with taking him in to notice. I looked down at my chest, releasing a sigh of relief at finding it cum free. The bedsheet had absorbed all of it. My long-legged boxer briefs covered my inner-thighs, so that was one less thing to feel humiliated about.
I cupped my hands in front of my crotch. “Sorry. Give me a few minutes to get dressed.”
Ryan met my eyes again, but there was nothing but mild boredom in his dark gaze. At least the sight of me hadn’t traumatized him.
Mindful of being shirtless—and the other parts of my body I wanted to hide—I backed into my room, closing the door before turning for the bathroom.
I washed up quickly at the sink then brushed my teeth, hurrying before Ryan had a chance to change his mind. He’d overheard my conversation with Xavier in the hall, which meant he had to be eavesdropping. Xavier’s words lit a spark in him. They’d mattered for some reason. What about everything else Xavier said? Did that matter to Ryan too?
“I’m sure William has told you all about Safe Haven. Do you plan on visiting any time soon?”
Heshould’vevisited Safe Haven, and I should’ve wanted him to. Ididwant him to. So why couldn’t I meet my own gaze in the mirror?
Not wanting to delay us any longer, I got dressed and strode out of my bedroom. Ryan wasn’t in the spot I’d left him in.
Creeping down the hall, I listened for movement behind his closed door before finding him in the living room. He peered out over the darkened city, hands clasped behind his back. We were still an hour away from sunrise.
“Ready?” My question hadn’t pierced through his thoughts. I understood being overwhelmed by thoughts. So consumed by them nothing outside of myself penetrated until they were done with me. I repeated the question louder this time. Still nothing. Did he not want to go anymore? Did the world outside scare him?
Since I couldn’t count on him to verbally tell me what was wrong, I analyzed his body language. The hand clasping his wrist squeezed and released repeatedly, his lithe back and long legs tense. In the reflection of the glass I caught him watching me draw my own conclusions.
His lips pressed together in a thin line, as though he had a problem with me looking at him. Like he had a problem with me in general. We were playing this weird game of cat and mouse, it seemed. For every step forward we took, no matter how insignificant, we retreated two back. Or he did, at least. I wasjust the masochist puppet, my strings being yanked in multiple directions.
“We can take our time. I don’t expect you to be marathon ready. We jog, we walk, we walk slower, or we stop altogether. So long as we get out, get some fresh air into our lungs, and start to move forward, it doesn’t matter to me.” Because we were stuck in place. “Can you do that?”
He turned to me, but gave me nothing else. I wanted to beg for a nod, a shake of his head, a mouthed “yes.” Something. I wanted whatever he’d given my mother in the kitchen that for some odd reason felt like he was purposely withholding from me.
He swallowed, mouth parting to let out an unsteady breath. That small show of something would have to be enough.
I waited by the front door to give him space to make up his mind. I wanted to smile when he appeared at the other end of the hallway, then proceeded to meet me where I stood. Not wanting to find out what my show of excitement might cost me, I kept my expression clear.
