Page 71 of A Box of Wishes
He rubbed his sternum, wondered if he’d wolfed his breakfast too quickly… and then realised he’d skipped food altogether. Last night and this morning.
Alastair had fed him pizza, the first night he’d turned up at his door, but the last two nights he’d been out, and Ryan hadn’t bothered with dinner. And without Ben to share his tea in the morning…
Ryan didn’t notice he was pacing until he nearly ran into a customer entering the coffeehouse.
“I’m sorry,” he apologised. “Please come in.”
“Ryan?” A hand grabbed his arm and spun him around. “Ryan, what’s the matter?”
“Ma? What are you doing here?”
“I asked first. Tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Ryan blinked. “I just…”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re feeling ill.”
“No. Not ill.” Ryan felt as if he was going to have a heart attack. His chest burned, and the tug in his gut almost doubled him over. Most of all, he felt jittery, and ready to come out of his skin.
“You need to make a wish.”
Ryan shook his head. “I’ve made a wish, Ma. When Morris was hurt.” After all this time, surely his mother understood now how these things worked. Fate didn’t grant wishes willy-nilly.
“And you wished for what?”
“That Ben not lose Morris.”
“I knew it. Ryan, love, I’m sure you’re allowed a wish for yourself.”
“Maybe. But all I’d wish for right now is that Ben would forgive me, and that’s not gonna help anyone.” Ryan froze mid-stride. Ben. “What if I feel this way because there’s something wrong with Ben?”
His phone jangled and he dove for it, answering the call without looking at the screen. “Yes?”
“Ryan.” Cara’s voice sang with relief. “Thank goodness. Are you home?”
“It’s lunchtime here. Of course, I’m not home. What’s this about?” Ryan’s chest felt so tight, he struggled to breathe.
“Alastair’s not been answering his phone. I call him every day and I just can’t get hold of him. And Ryan… I have a horrible feeling that something’s wrong.”
Ryan exhaled with an effort. Cara didn’t share his gift, but he couldn’t argue with her assessment. The pain in his chest was proof of that.
Was it Alastair? He didn’t know. He’d been so stuck in his head that he couldn’t say if Alastair had been at home and asleep this morning. Or the morning before.
He gripped the phone tighter. “I’ll take an early lunch and pop round to check on him.”
“Call me when you find him, okay?”
“I will.” Ryan reached for his jacket. “Ma, I can’t talk now. Alastair’s not answering his phone and Cara is worried. I’m heading over.”
“Of course, love. Go make sure he’s okay. We’ll hold the fort here.”
Paula was restocking the cake display when Ben stepped into the coffeehouse. It was too late—or way to early—for him to be here, and tension spread across his back like a cloak.
“Ben! It’s about time you stuck your head in. Ryan’s been so miserable.”
Ben shot a glance towards the kitchen entrance. “Is he here?”
Paula shook her head. “You’ve just missed him. It’s one thing on top of another today. He’s been feeling ill all morning. Then his sister called to say his cousin isn’t answering his phone, so he’s gone home to check.”
