Page 5 of Ripped

I’m crying now, my tears rolling down my cheeks and dripping off my jaw into Connor’s hair. His hands are in my shirt again, gripping so hard, he might rip it. We’re both shaking and there’s nothing we can do except ride it out.

Sawyer’s sitting there, chewing on his lip while staring at us, horrified and helpless. He glances at the big ticking clock on the wall. “It’s almost time to close up.”

Shit, it is. We need to clear everyone out so the cleaning crew can go through the place. I blink back my tears.

“Connor, is there someone we can call for you? Or somewhere you can go?”

He shakes his head against my shoulder. “No, I can’t. I can’t.”

“Okay, okay.” I’m quick to reassure him. He doesn’t have anywhere to go and he can’t stay here all night. There’s only one other option I can think of. “Do you want to come home with me?”

Sawyer’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. Connor turns into a statue in my arms.

“I have a guest room,” I say quickly. “You can stay there for tonight. Or a few nights. However long you need. It’s got its own bathroom and I’ve got spare towels and toothbrushes—the whole works.”

My pulse is racing like I’ve dodged a car door opening into the bike lane. I can’t believe the words that have come out of my mouth.

Connor pulls away just enough to look up at me. His face is a mess of tears and snot and splotchy skin. “Are you sure?” He sounds so small, so fragile, like he’ll fall apart again at the slightest touch.

I throw all the confidence I don’t feel into my voice. “Yeah, of course. I have friends stay with me all the time. It’s no big deal.”

It’s a big fat lie, is what it is. I haven’t had anyone in that guest room in years. I’ve barely had anyone in the house with me at all. Sawyer’s staring at me like I’ve got horns growing out of my head, but what other choice do we have?

Connor’s bottom lip pushes out again and he ducks his head. I can almost hear his thoughts whirling around in there. Should he trust Donnie, The Spin Instructor? Or should he take his chances elsewhere?

“Okay,” he finally says. “Maybe just for a few days.”

I let out the breath I didn’t realize I’m holding, only for my lungs to fill with panic. Oh god, I haven’t had anyone in that guest room in literal years. The only people besides me who have been inside the house are random tradespeople I’ve called to fix things I don’t know how to fix myself. Is that bathroom clean? Are the sheets on the bed fresh? I think I left dishes in the kitchen sink this morning. I’m not ready for a houseguest.

No, keep your shit together, Donnie. Now is not the time to freak out. Connor needs steady and stable, not manic fretting over an imperfect house.

“Good. Great.” My voice is a whole lot stronger than my quivering insides. “I’ve got a few things to finish up, then we can head out. Can you hang out here for a bit?”

Connor hesitates, like he’d rather follow me around the gym than be left alone. I give his arm a firm squeeze before setting him away from me.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be quick.”

He shrinks back into the couch. “Okay.”

“Good. Good. Great.” I wish I had blankets to tuck around him to keep him safe and warm, but he’ll have to make do until we get home.

Sawyer follows me out of the break room. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Donnie?”

“Do you have a better one?” The pen I dropped when I went to catch Connor is on the floor and I scoop it up to finish filling out my daily logs.

Sawyer chews on his lip. “Not really.”

“It’s only for a few days.” I try to write, and my letters look like I’m a five-year-old learning how to hold a pencil.

“What if he’s, like, a serial killer?”

I cock an eyebrow at Sawyer. “A serial killer?”

“Okay, maybe not a serial killer, but you know what I mean. What if he’s, like… unstable or something?”

He’s not. I don’t know how I know—I just do. Connor’s hurting. He needs someone. I want to be that someone. I haven’t been more sure of anything in a really long time.

“If I don’t show up tomorrow,” I say to Sawyer, only half joking. “Send Beau and Gavin to look for me.”

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