Chapter Thirteen
“WHAT HAPPENED AT THE CLUB last night?”
Scott couldn’t help but tense at Rylan’s question. He stalled, stretching and sliding his thigh between Rylan’s before pulling him closer. All the relaxation he’d gotten from their brief nap dissipated in an instant, although he did his best to sound unconcerned as he replied, “Just had a run-in with a thirsty fan. I was not in the mood.”
Rylan pushed himself up on one elbow, looking down at him, and Scott smiled at the red wrinkles that crisscrossed his cheek from where it’d been pressed into the pillow. He reached up to brush his fingers over them.
Rylan grabbed his hand and kissed his palm, saying firmly, “I want to know what happened. Tell me.”
Scott sighed, flopping over onto his back. “It’s embarrassing, Ry, you know? This guy, I—” He flung his arm up over his eyes, trying to hide. “Um, a few months ago, he—I—he sucked me off in the gym parking lot, in my car.”
A short pause, and then Rylan said slowly, “Okay. So last night he was—what? Looking for a repeat?”
“It wasn’t even that so much.” Scott blew out a breath, leaving his arm in place so he wouldn’t have to look at Rylan. “It actually happened that night I first ran into you at Pride. After I took you home, I went to the gym, and—and this guy was there, and he was all starry-eyed and shit. It was flattering, Ry.”
He lowered his arm. Rylan’s eyes were steady on his as Scott admitted, “I used him. Seeing you again, and that picture of Heather, brought all these bad feelings crashing down on my head, and this guy—he was there and willing and I used him to make myself feel better.”
“But he thought it meant something.”
Scott nodded miserably. “Apparently he thought it meant I was interested in him. When he came up to me last night, at first I didn’t remember him at all, so he got really pissed. Called me an asshole; said instead of wasting my time on pieces of shit like Lance and all the other club fuckboys, I could be with someone who’d treat him right.”
Rylan grimaced at that. “Jesus. He sounds a little—off.”
“I bought him a drink and danced with him, hoping to smooth things over. But afterward, he followed me all over the club, criticizing everything I do, everything I’ve posted on my social media accounts, giving me his opinion on what I should have done or should do from now on.” Scott paused. “It freaked me out a little, to be honest.”
“With good reason.” Rylan’s voice was firm. “I hope Corey threw him out.”
“No. I turned around and told the dude to leave me the fuck alone, and Corey happened to be passing by and heard me. Took me aside and reamed me out without even listening to my side of it, just yelled that there’s no excuse for being rude to fans.”
Rylan’s lips twisted in disgust, and he lay back down against Scott’s chest, draping his arm over him. “I’d say he was acting more like a stalker than a fan.”
Scott snorted. “That’s exactly what I said, Ry, almost word for word. Corey got red in the face, told me to go home till I could appreciate what I have. Since I didn’t want to be there anyway, I got my shit and came home.”
He pulled Rylan closer, feeling his solid warmth against him.
“I imagine you’ll run into this sort of thing more and more as your visibility increases,” Rylan said sleepily. “Corey needs to take steps to protect you from the crazy ones, and that starts with like, you know, listening when you say someone makes you uncomfortable or gives you a bad vibe.” He shuddered. “Especially after what happened.”
Scott felt a corresponding shiver of unease move through him. “I had Jerry walk me to my car,” he mumbled. “I felt fuckin’ stupid about it, but hearing you say it—”
Rylan pushed up on his elbow again, his eyes fierce. “If Corey wants you to be so accessible, giving you a cell phone just for fans and requiring you to be ‘polite’ at all costs, then he can damn well make sure you have someone watching your back. Jesus.”
Scott grabbed him and rolled him over, coming down over top of him. “So protective,” he growled against Rylan’s lips. “You gonna be my sexy bodyguard?”
Rylan wrapped his arms around his neck and arched against him, spreading his legs to make room for Scott between them. “Since I can’t take my eyes off you no matter where we are, I’d say I’m definitely the most qualified.”
“Mmm. Sweet Ry,” Scott whispered, lowering his head to give him a gentle kiss. They rocked together, straining to get closer, arousal ramping up to a fever pitch. Rylan dug his fingers into Scott’s back as he came hard, his hoarse moans in Scott’s ear and the feel of him pulsing against him bringing Scott’s own orgasm sweeping over him in a hot rush.
Rylan gave him a sleepy smile before nestling against his shoulder, throwing one leg over both of Scott’s. They cuddled, dozing in and out until Rylan suddenly sat up. “Oh, shit. For the life of me, I don’t know what made me think of this right now but—no, it’s nothing bad,” he rushed to say as Scott tensed. “Shh, relax.” He rubbed his palm over Scott’s chest and described the email he’d gotten from Garrett.
“He replied to my original email about you a month ago,” Rylan said, his tone rueful and apologetic. “I feel like shit for not remembering to tell you, but yes, the boys are absolutely looking forward to hearing from you. They want you to make the first move, though.”
Scott bit his lip. “Understandable. Wow, Ry, I—what should I say?” He could hear how anxious he sounded, and Rylan combed his fingers through Scott’s hair.
“If it were me, I’d start with hi and tell them I’m okay. Ask about their lives. Go from there.” Rylan’s eyes were soft with understanding.
“I can do that.”
“Of course you can. They’re good kids, and I know they missed you. It’ll be fine.” Rylan picked up Scott’s phone from the nightstand and tapped busily for a moment. “I entered Garrett’s number in your contacts. Start with a text when you’re ready, okay?”
Rylan’s cell phone buzzed. He groped for it and read the text quickly. “Shit, I have to go,” he muttered, struggling up from the bed. Scott wanted to protest, to pull him back down and make him rest, but Rylan was already heading for the shower.
“Where are you going? There’s an emergency?”
Rylan snorted. “No. One of the Suns players’ wives is on the way to the hospital in labor. They want me to try to get a shot of the expectant father looking all excited and shit.” His voice was muffled as he washed and rinsed quickly. Scott handed him a towel, watching as he yanked his clothes on. “Hey, it pays the bills.”
Rylan stuffed his feet into his leather slides and made his way to the living room to gather his backpack. Scott padded after him, snagging him around the waist right before he dashed out the door.
“Before you take off,” he murmured, running the backs of his fingers down Rylan’s cheek, “I just want to say thanks for putting up with me, for overlooking how ridiculous I am.”
He broke off when Rylan stretched onto his tiptoes and kissed him. “Scott, I love you. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Text me when you’re done,” Scott called after him, and Rylan gave a thumbs-up just as the elevator doors slid closed and whisked him away.
At loose ends, Scott made some coffee before climbing back into bed with his phone. The pillow next to him still held the imprint from Rylan’s head, and Scott grinned to himself. Perfect. He arranged the top sheet so it was pooled in his lap, his ridged abs and some pubic hair showing. Reclining against the pillows, one arm thrown up over his head, Scott held the phone high to snap a selfie and uploaded it to Instagram with the caption: Whew! He wore me out!
Instantly the comments started popping up.
Sexy tease! Show us the D!
Fuck me next!
Who’s the lucky guy?
At the sight of that one, Scott couldn’t help himself and hit reply, thumbing in, Oh, I’m the lucky one with a heart emoji.
That made his phone explode with speculative comments in return, and Scott indulged in a few minutes of lurking, closing the app when some people claiming to be past bed partners of his started chiming in and “rating” him. He blew out a breath and picked up his coffee. All the fucking predictable, same-old shit.
A text from Rylan popped up. Keep my spot warm. I can’t wait to get home to you. A pause, then a second text. That pic got me hard. Dammit.
Scott laughed, the sound echoing in the empty apartment. Go do your job, baby. Then we have all night.
Rylan responded with a few kissy-face emojis, the sweet silliness of it all warming Scott’s heart. He’d just started to toss the phone down to the bed when he remembered something, and he opened his contacts, his fingers shaking a little as he swiped down to where Rylan had entered Garrett’s name.
He opened the text message field, sitting there in agonized indecision. What do you say to the half-brother you’d abandoned, that you’d turned your back on? How could you possibly explain your actions, actions you yourself only partly understood the reasons for?
Rylan’s voice popped into his head. Just say hi. Ask about their lives. Go from there.
Scott took a deep breath. The boys needed—deserved—for Scott to put himself out there first. He’d do this, and let them set the tone, whatever it happened to be.
Hey Garrett, it’s Scott.
Berating himself for starting off so lame, he hit Send before he could change his mind, elated when the phone vibrated in his hand almost immediately with a reply.
Scott!!!! Omg how are u??
I’m good. I’m doing really good. How are you, buddy?
After a few more rapid-fire exchanges, the phone rang. Scott gulped, praying for the right words…and answered it.
“My thumbs were getting tired,” Garrett said by way of a greeting, and Scott laughed.
“Mine too. And wow, your voice has gotten so deep!”
“I’m almost fifteen, you know,” Garrett said proudly. “I’m already six feet tall.”
They made small talk for a while, Scott relieved at how easy the conversation flowed as he caught up on the boys’ lives.
“We all help Donna at the restaurant,” Garrett told him. “We can’t be on the bar side, but Jaxon helps run the cash register for a few hours after school, and I bus tables. Gavin sweeps and empties the trash.”
Scott smiled, remembering how Donna’s place had been such a haven for him back in the day. “That’s great. She’s a wonderful lady.”
“You know we pretty much live with her, right?” Garrett’s voice was soft. “Mom sends her some money once in a while. It ain’t much, but Donna says she appreciates the effort.” He gave a fond chuckle. “I’ve never heard her say anything mean about Mom.”
“Donna was a good friend to me, too,” Scott said. “The best. I’m glad you have her.”
“She talks to us about everything. Like about Kyle, her son. That’s the only time we ever see her cry, is on his birthday.” Garrett paused. “And once when we talked about you. About how you left us.”
Scott swallowed hard, clearing his throat. Here we go. “You know me leaving like that had nothing to do with any of you, right? That was me making some terrible choices, Gare. Wasn’t nobody’s fault but mine. Not yours. Never yours.”
“It fuckin’ hurt, and we were so pissed at you, Scotty,” Garrett burst out, the words seeming to take him by surprise. “Rylan tried to act all strong and help us, but we could hear him cryin’ in bed at night.” He sniffed, choking on a sudden sob. “It was like you died!”
Scott bit his lip, his own eyes welling with tears. “I know, buddy,” he rasped. “There’s nothing I can say to make any of that better, other than I’m so sorry. I’m so damn sorry, Gare.”
Silence, except for Garrett’s ragged breathing, and Scott whispered, “If I could go back in time and do it different, I would. I wouldn’t have hurt you like this.”
Garrett hiccupped. “Why did you do it? Just tell me why, Scotty.”
Scott took a deep breath, praying once more for wisdom. “I wasn’t getting along with Mom, you know that. The night I left, it got—really bad. And instead of focusing on the good things I had in my life, all I could think of was getting away from that bad stuff. I made a choice I never should’ve made, Gare. That choice hurt so many people.”
“But why didn’t you call somebody and just say, ‘Tell my family I’m okay’? That’s all. You didn’t hafta come home if you needed to go, but shit, you coulda at least told us you were okay.”
But I wasn’t okay. Not for a long time.
“I didn’t see any other way,” Scott said helplessly. “Once I was gone, I thought it was better to stay gone, you know? I really thought everyone was better off without me.”
“That’s fuckin’ stupid. We loved you.”
“I know.” Scott’s eyes welled up again. “There are no excuses for me, Garrett. I—don’t know what else to say.”
More silence, and Garrett whispered, “I’m gonna go now, Scotty.”
He hung up. Scott dropped the phone in his lap and buried his face in his hands. Then it vibrated with an incoming text.
Can I call u tomorrow? I just need to think.
Scott’s fingers were shaking so badly he could barely type, but he managed to respond, Sure, buddy. Call me anytime you want. Anytime.
No answer.
Scott took deep breaths, trying to calm his roiling emotions. Goddammit, he was such a fuckup. He should have said more. He should have said it better. Why couldn’t he ever do anything right? Scott pounded his fist on his thigh, on the verge of losing it. He shouldn’t have contacted Garrett, put him through—
Stop it! He’s not rejecting you; he’s a kid trying to deal with some pretty heavy shit. Scott sucked in air as he fought for control. Talk about repeating your mistakes. Hadn’t he thought the same damn thing when Rylan needed space? Instead of considering what Rylan might need, all Scott could focus on was himself, which had caused them both days of unnecessary pain.
And here he was doing it again.
Scott closed his eyes. Okay. He’d made the first move, and he’d apologized from the heart. Short of turning back time so none of this had ever happened in the first place, as of now, he’d done all he could.
He flipped off the light and curled into a ball, hugging Rylan’s pillow to him as he gave in to his overwhelming grief and remorse, mourning the lost years with his siblings, the hurt and pain he’d caused them, all the might-have-beens.
“Hey.” The bed dipped, and suddenly Rylan was there, smelling of dust and the hot desert night, his fingertips gentle as he ran them through Scott’s hair. “Hey. Shhh.”
Once he started, Scott couldn’t seem to stop, hoarse sobs tearing from his chest. Rylan didn’t speak, just held him, his body strong and warm, his hands soothing. Finally the bitter waves crested and receded, leaving Scott exhausted, with swollen, gritty eyes. Without a word, he pushed up from the bed and staggered to the shower, sighing as the hot water beat down on his neck and shoulders, the steam easing the congestion in his nose.
When he returned to the bedroom, Rylan had taken off his wet, snot-encrusted T-shirt and was ensconced underneath the covers. Scott joined him with a ragged sigh, and they lay there in silence for a moment, until Rylan turned on his side and skimmed his fingertips over Scott’s cheek.
“Garrett called me in much the same state,” he said quietly. “I could barely understand him, he was crying so hard.”
Scott blinked rapidly, determined not to lose it again. “It—I—” His voice was hoarse, raspy, and Rylan touched his lips to shush him.
“He said he hung up on you, and he felt so bad about it because he didn’t mean it like that.”
A lone tear escaped and ran down Scott’s cheek. Rylan wiped it away with his thumb. “He didn’t know how to deal with what he was feeling, and he didn’t want to cry in front of you. Hearing your voice again, it was harder than he thought it’d be.”
“I thought we had a nice talk,” Scott croaked. “I didn’t mean to upset him.”
“I doubt you did anything in particular to upset him,” Rylan said, his tone reasonable. “He didn’t anticipate how talking to you again would make him feel, that’s all.”
“I hope he can forgive me someday. I hope they all can.” He looked up at Rylan. “Even you.”
Rylan smoothed his palm over Scott’s chest. “If what you need is for me to say it, then Scott, I forgive you.” His voice was firm as he went on, “Now what I need from you is for you to accept my forgiveness and not dwell on it or internalize it anymore. It’s in the past, and we can’t move on if it doesn’t stay in the past.”
Scott pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “God, I hate this,” he burst out. “I hate—I hate feeling so much, Rylan. Sometimes I wish you hadn’t—” He broke off before he said it out loud, but when he heard Rylan’s soft intake of breath, he realized dully he hadn’t been quick enough.
“You wish I hadn’t come back into your life?” Rylan’s voice was almost inaudible, and he let his hand fall from Scott’s chest.
Scott rolled on his side and faced away, biting his lip almost until it bled, hoping he could keep from falling apart until after Rylan walked out the door…
The bed shifted, and Rylan pressed up against his back, his arm like a steel band as it came around his chest. He put his lips to Scott’s ear. “You will not push me away like this, Scott Ashworth. You hear me? Not again. I’m fucking tired of it, and also just fucking tired, so right now, I’m gonna sleep with you in my arms.” Scott buried his face in the pillow, trying not to bawl his relief, but Rylan wasn’t done. “And when we wake up, you’re gonna make love to me, and you’re gonna look me in the eye and let yourself feel everything you can’t bring yourself to say.”
Rylan hugged him closer, kissing the back of Scott’s neck. “I don’t need the words. What I need is for you to fight. Fight through all of this—this shit being dredged up, because I think it’s almost over, and I need you to fight for me. For us. Don’t let it win.”
Scott didn’t—couldn’t—say anything, but he let go of the sheet his fingers were twisted in and reached up to cover Rylan’s hand with his own. Rylan let out a sigh that sounded a little like a sob, and he gripped Scott’s hand, burying his face in the side of his neck. “I love you,” he whispered. “I will never stop loving you. Never.”
Only silence came after that, and eventually Rylan fell asleep, his body heavy and warm where it was wrapped around Scott, their fingers threaded tightly together. Scott lay awake and just listened to him breathe.
* * *
Garrett didn’t call the next day, or the next.
“Remember he’s looking at all this from the perspective of a child,” Rylan said a week later. “He doesn’t see the big picture, and all he can focus on is his hurt. Give him the time he needs.”
Scott was trying, but the toxic mixture of guilt and shame he’d shoved deep down inside him for years was seeping through the cracks and flowing to the surface. Every day that passed made him more antsy, more agitated.
Rylan was so steady, so patient, so fucking understanding, that unbelievably Scott found himself growing resentful of it. Why, oh why, hadn’t he dropped Rylan off at his apartment complex that first day and driven off into the sunset with a cheery wave and a “Nice to see you again”? After everything that’d happened, they’d managed to move on with their lives, for fuck’s sake, and now old wounds were being ripped open, and they were right back where they started six years ago, all because Scott just had to play the hero for a hot piece of ass in gold lamé shorts.
Trying to avoid taking his anxiety out on Rylan, Scott took it out on his workout routine instead, pumping iron until he was trembling with fatigue, pushing himself on the treadmill until he was drenched with sweat. He didn’t eat much, or sleep much, but he looked amazing…according to Corey, at least.
“Your body’s on point, sweetness,” Corey said, running his hand over Scott’s pecs and abs. “Flex for me.”
Scott did, and Corey just about purred. “Sexiest man in the club. Now go work it.”
Relieved to be back in Corey’s good graces, Scott worked it hard. He drank, he danced, he flirted. He searched out the fan he’d been rude to, Byron, and lavished him with attention until the guy was starry-eyed and slack-jawed.
“What’s up with you?” Minh demanded at one point. “You be like one of those fuckin’ wind-up monkeys that clash the cymbals together, you know, the ones that twirl around, make lots of noise.”
Scott glared at him. “That’s rude as hell.”
Minh gave a careless shrug, but his eyes held a wealth of worry. “Just sayin’. You can’t sit still, and you’re here, there, and everywhere. What you runnin’ from, Scotty?”
“At the moment, nosy bitches who can’t mind their own goddamn business,” he snarled. He downed his shot of vodka and slammed the empty glass to the bar top before turning and walking away. Byron came up to him, and Scott slung his arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close.
“Having a good time?” he murmured, and Byron looked up at him with a besotted, worshipful expression.
“I am. But can we maybe get out of here, go somewhere?”
Scott pretended not to hear him, casually dropping his arm and disappearing into the crowd with a wave and a shouted “Save me a dance at midnight, cutie pie.”
Rylan was around, taking pictures, and he kept his distance, though Scott saw him head to a secluded corner to huddle with Chris, talking earnestly. Scott clenched his teeth and avoided them both, ducking into the bathroom to take a piss. Lance was standing at one of the urinals, and Scott started to turn back, but Lance glanced over his shoulder and saw him. Damned if he’d turn tail and run now.
Pasting a smirk on his face, he sauntered over to stand right next to Lance, making a show of undoing his jeans and reaching inside. Lance side-eyed him, zipping up and turning to face him.
“What’s with the display?” Lance blatantly stared as Scott fondled himself. “You want it?”
Scott threw Lance a heavy-lidded look. “Maybe. If I asked, would you suck me right now?”
Lance’s pulse started to pound visibly in the hollow of his throat. “Fuck yeah,” he rasped. “I’d do anything to taste you again, not gonna lie.”
Scott chuckled, reaching out to cup Lance’s chin and run his thumb roughly over his lips. He slipped it inside when Lance parted them helplessly.
“You do have a sweet mouth,” he whispered, rubbing Lance’s tongue with the pad. Lance gave a hoarse groan, grabbing Scott’s wrist to hold him in place and nipping at the tip of his thumb, licking it.
“Oh, yeah,” Scott growled, watching avidly. “You can still get my dick hard, no doubt.” Lance’s eyes were filled with heat and triumph, and he swayed toward Scott, resting his hands on Scott’s hips and starting to push him toward an empty stall.
Scott took a few steps with him and then shrugged, shoving Lance away and zipping up. “Nah,” he drawled. “Guess I don’t feel like slummin’ tonight after all.”
He turned to leave, hearing Lance’s gasp of rage and bracing for the blow, which wasn’t long in coming. Lance slammed his fists into Scott’s back, and Scott welcomed the pain that rocked him.
“You fuckin’ prick,” Lance hissed from behind him. “Why?” His voice throbbed with hurt and fury, thick with tears.
Scott didn’t bother to answer, just pushed through the doors, Lance’s muffled sob following him. He rolled his shoulders, half hoping Lance would come after him swinging. Right about now, he’d welcome being punched into oblivion…
Time blurred as Scott drank some more, danced some more. Rylan and Chris were still deep in earnest conversation, and Minh wandered up to them at one point in full Teena drag. Chris grabbed her, running his hands over her ass and dipping her back into a dramatic kiss. She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck to snuggle close. They swayed together for a moment, whispering into each other’s ears before Teena reluctantly pulled away.
“Gotta go get touched up for my midnight show,” Scott heard her call back to them, and when she passed him a minute later, Scott followed her back to the dressing room. The other girls were chattering and getting dressed, not paying any attention to them, and Scott cornered Teena next to the bank of makeup lights.
“What’re Rylan and Chris talking about?” he demanded.
She gave him a mutinous look. “Who’s being a nosy bitch now?” she snapped. “Go ask him your damn self.”
“Teena,” Scott began, and Teena interrupted him.
“I honestly don’t know, Scotty, and that’s the truth.” She picked up a tube of mascara and began expertly reapplying it. “But Chris—”
Scott watched as her hand began to tremble, and she put the mascara down.
“What? What is it?”
Teena looked at him. “Chris is leavin’ for Africa in three weeks,” she said, her voice almost inaudible. “The date is set, and he got his travel documents today. He’s—” She swallowed. “I think he’s tryin’ to talk Rylan into goin’. I heard him askin’ Rylan about passports, and Rylan said he has his.”
Scott slammed his fist to the table, making the tubes and pots of makeup on it jump. “Fuck that!”
All the conversation in the room ceased, and an awkward silence fell.
“Scott,” Teena said, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “It’s a good career move for both of them—”
He shook her off. “I don’t give a fuck,” he grated, turning to stride from the room, the sudden burst of tittering and speculation making him grit his teeth.
“Scott!” Teena called, but Scott ignored her, going in search of Rylan. To his fury, he found him dancing with Chris, and he stomped over to him and grabbed his arm, yanking him off the dance floor and dragging him toward the VIP stairway.
“What the actual fuck?” Chris’s voice was tight with shock as he chased after them, and Scott whirled on him. Rylan put his arm in front of him to hold him back, saying to Chris, “It’s okay, man. It’s okay.”
Chris subsided, but he made it clear he wasn’t going far, putting his back to a nearby wall and crossing his arms over his chest. Scott sneered at him before leading Rylan more sedately toward the stairs. They got a little more than halfway up and Rylan called a halt.
“What’s going on with you tonight? You’re completely on edge, Scott.”
Scott shook his head. “Nope. Everything’s great. Corey thinks my abs are on point, and Lance offered to suck my dick. Pretty much got the world by the tail right now.”
Rylan’s expression didn’t change, and his eyes were steady. “You do, if only you could see that.”
Scott gave a harsh laugh. “Nope again. I don’t want pity, Rylan.” He advanced on him, sliding his hands onto Rylan’s hips. He lowered his head and grazed their mouths together. “You said once you were too old to fuck against the wall in the club,” he breathed, reaching around to give Rylan’s ass a squeeze.
Rylan quirked his lips. “I am,” he murmured, arching against him. “But if that’s what you need right now—”
His patient, reasonable tone inexplicably sent Scott into a cold fury, and he grabbed Rylan’s hand and pressed it lewdly to his crotch. “What I need,” he hissed, “is to do something with this fuckin’ boner Lance gave me. So I thought of you.”
Rylan gave an infinitesimal flinch, and Scott felt a vicious satisfaction well up at the sight of it. He ignored the voice in his head screaming at him to stop, to shut the fuck up, and went on, “I don’t need anything from anyone except this—” He thrust into Rylan’s palm. “—nor do I want it. I never have, and I wish to fucking God I hadn’t bothered to stop for you that day.”
Every ounce of color drained from Rylan’s face. Scott dropped his hand and turned to run down the stairs, his legs shaking so much he almost fell. When he reached the bottom, he staggered into the wall, a wave of nausea sending bile surging into his throat, gagging him.
What are you doing, you stupid fuck? Go fix this!
Scott started back toward the stairs, but Chris stepped in front of him, his eyes holding the same goddamn pity and concern, his mouth moving as he said something, and before Scott knew it, his fist was flying toward Chris’s face.
Chris ducked, and Scott punched the wall, fiery flames of agony shooting all the way up into his shoulder. Screams echoed from all sides. Jerry barreled into him, putting Scott into a restraint hold, pinning his arms.
Scott could see Rylan still halfway up the stairs, his blue eyes shimmering with tears, and suddenly Byron appeared behind him. He put his palm in the middle of Rylan’s back and gave him a massive shove.
“No!” Scott roared, fighting with all his might to get free, tearing loose from Jerry’s grip and dropping to his knees beside Rylan’s crumpled form. Chaos reigned as Jerry tackled Byron, people shouted into their phones, and Rylan never moved.