Page 6 of Only the Small Bones
I, on the other hand, hadn’t gotten much sleep at all. It had little to do with the escalating pain in my shoulder and hip due to the unforgiving floor, and everything to do with the pain in my heart. Had he been subjected to this every night? I’d been tempted to create my own set of chains to get the full experience. Just to hurt a little more.
I abandoned my post outside his bedroom to venture into the living room, resting my palms against the windowed wall. It was hurricane season somewhere, because the storm from last nighthadn’t ebbed one bit. Thunder roared, and the gray, ominous clouds cast shadows over the whole apartment.
What had I gotten myself into? What had Ialwaysgotten myself into? I wasn’t a physician, or a therapist, or anything resembling someone who could help Ryan. Not with the things that mattered.
“You’re easy to connect with.”
My mother’s assurances rang out in my head. I never understood that. All I had to offer was deep rooted sorrow and crippling regret.
“There’s also your rare but beautiful smile, sweetheart.”She’d cradle my cheeks and say,“Let me see it.”I had to give it to her, it worked every time.
My phone sounded from somewhere behind me. I tracked it down to the kitchen, right next to my untouched bagel and coffee from this morning. My stomach growled, reminding me that Ryan wasn’t the only one who hadn’t eaten yet.
Davidson’s name flashed across my screen. I glanced down the hall to Ryan’s door before heading for the library—which doubled as my office—on the other side of the apartment.
“How’s it shaking, kid?”
“I’m thirty-one, Davidson. I haven’t been a kid for a long time now,” I reminded him, sinking onto my desk chair.
“Yeah, well, when you get to be my age, anyone under forty is a kid.”
I huffed, unable to manage a fully formed laugh.
“How’s it going?” He lowered his voice as though he didn’t want anyone overhearing. The buzz of activity in the background told me he was either in the office, or his kids were in town. Knowing Davidson, his kids were probably in town, but he was in the office anyway.
“I honestly don’t know,” I admitted, shifting to face the window. “He hasn’t woken up yet.” I left out the details about Ryan’s heartbreaking sleeping method.
“He’s been through a lot in just the last twenty-four hours, and I can only imagine the hell he’s been through before then. Plus, the sedative is probably still purging from his system. I wouldn’t worry too much.” He knew worrying was my favorite pastime. I didn’t let on that I knew we shared the same hobby. There would be at least three more calls from him before this evening.
“Anyway, I gotta go. I’ve got a shit-ton more paperwork to do. Let me know if you get him to talk. Maybe he heard or saw something that could help the investigation. It’d be great if we could question him about it.”
I leaned forward, not liking the idea of Ryan being interrogated. “He isn’t a criminal.”
“I know, kid, but we want to get the people who did this.”
“Well, what about the other survivors? Have you spoken to them again?” I wanted the people who did this caught too, I just wasn’t sure if I wanted Ryan traumatized further to make it happen. He wasn’t in any condition to help bring anyone down.
“We’ve gotten all we can from them for now. He may know things they don’t.”
“What did they say?”
“Nothing I can share with you.” He’d probably shared too much as it was.
“Okay. I understand. I’ll keep you posted on Ryan.”
“Hey,” he called out before I hung up. “Maybe bring your mother in on this, yeah?”
I sighed, not wanting to go that route. She had a stealthy way of getting me to face realities I’d rather ignore. Hazards of a job that could easily bleed into our mother-son relationship if we weren’t careful.
“We’ll see.” I ended the call, turning to drop the phone on my desk. My hand bumped against my favorite book. I’d been in here reading it before leaving town a few days ago. I must have forgotten to put it back on its coveted shelf.
I headed for the bookshelf now, the one at the end of the room next to the display case full of meaningless awards. Running reverent fingers over the book’s worn spine and edges, I gripped it to my chest, bringing it to my nose and inhaling its aged pages. Hoping, and not for the first time, that I could siphon Gargantuans strength into my body, as if the process were akin to osmosis.
Xavier would never let me hear the end of it if he knew my favorite piece of literature was a children’s book—one that I could recite by heart now. Another form of self-punishment my mother would say, if she knew.
Tucking it back into its hiding spot, I turned to find Ryan watching me from the doorway. My brain glitched, my mouth opening and closing, words nowhere to be found. How long had he been there? What had he heard or seen? What had he discovered about me?
Overnight, a purple bruise had formed on his cheekbone, right under his beauty mark. Was it the result of an injury sustained during the tussle at the hospital, or prior? Or one obtained while he slept chained on the floor? Either way, I found myself wanting to ask if it hurt, and wanting to make the pain go away if I could.
