Page 11 of Lost Boy
Clueless about how much time has passed, I’m completely startled and jolted awake when Uncle Joel shouts, “Dinner’s ready!” from the kitchen.
I sit bolt upright, eyes wide and locked on Ryder’s concerned ones. My chest is heaving, pulse pounding.
It’s unreasonable.
Definitely not an appropriate response to being informed that dinner is ready. But everything is changing and everything is new.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to calm my strained breathing. A big hand settles on my thigh, squeezing gently to get my attention.
“Look at me, Fallon.”
Not sure I can right now. Emotions are creeping up, along with the panic.
“I know you’re freaking out, but I got you. Open your eyes.” I automatically listen to him. Something fierce yet soothing is in his tone, and it cuts through the panic. He slowly reaches out, giving me plenty of time to object.
I don’t.
Ryder cups the side of my face. “Listen to me, Fal. It’s just you and me right now, okay? Take a deep breath, yeah?” He talks to me like we’ve known each other for years.
I listen. I have no choice. He’s the only one here. The only one helping.
“Good. Now, another.” He’s so patient and considerate and caring.
Who the fuck is like this?
It’s been a long, long time since I’ve felt such a tender touch, and as my breathing finally settles, my eyes flutter shut. Embarrassingly enough, I nuzzle my nose into the palm of his hand.
“Fallon. . .” he whispers, andfuck, what am I doing?
What the hell am I doing?
“Boys! Food’s ready!” Alejandro shouts from the kitchen, and I jerk back, letting the blanket slip off me as I jump up and rush out of the room to compose myself before dinner.
I duck into the small hallway bathroom, lock it, turn the loud-ass fan on, and lean against the door. I’m freaking out all over again, and not from being startled out of sleep this time.
No, this time it’s because of whatever thefuckthat was.
I’ve never been interested in anyone.Ever.Guy or girl.
But. . . Ryder’s touch. Hiscare. . .Fuck!
My belly does this weird somersault all over again just thinking about it.
I don’t like it.
Getting a grip, I do my business and head for the dining room. I’m not exactly looking forward to the four happy faces that await me, yet I’m not dreading it either.
They’re good people. I know this.
I slip into the empty seat between Uncle Joel and Ryder. It’s clear it’s meant for me. Sofia and Alejandro are on the other side, no one sitting at the heads of the table like an asshole.
I like that.
“I didn’t dish up your plate, Fallon. I wasn’t sure how much you wanted,” Uncle Joel says from next to me.
He knows I don’t like to talk much, so he points at the largest piece, and I nod, looking down at my nails while Uncle Joel serves me a massive amount of steaming chicken pot pie and salad on the side.
Once everyone has a plate full of food, we dig in. I add a gallon of ranch to my salad and devour it while the pot pie cools. I hate the feeling of a burnt tongue. It’s weird and uncomfortable. I shudder thinking about it.
