Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 118125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
They’d only made it a few steps before Rian twisted to throw a huffy demand over his shoulder. “And stay away from Chris!”
Damon was glad he had his back to Drew, because fuck, even when Damon was still so angry he could spit he couldn’t help smiling at Rian. “C’mon,” he murmured, guiding Rian toward the Jeep with a hand against the small of his back. “Had to get that last little bit in, huh?”
“...it had to be said,” Rian mumbled guiltily, then winced and shook out his right hand with a hiss. “Ow.” He looked down at his hand, spreading his long, thin fingers; the knuckles were definitely a mess, and Damon glimpsed blood in the creases of pale skin; fuck. “Punching someone really hurts.”
“You tucked your thumb inside, didn’t you? Good way to break it.” And with Drew fucking watching because Damon didn’t give a shit what that asshole thought, Damon slipped his hand down between them and caught Rian’s unbruised hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tight. “I’d prefer if you didn’t make a goddamned habit out of punching people, but if you’re gonna do it, don’t break your own fucking fingers, Ri.” He answered Rian’s startled, flushed look with a grin, tossing his head toward the Jeep. “C’mon. We’ll get you patched up at my place. If Walden sees you like this, he’s gonna shit bricks.”
* * *
By the time they made it back to Damon’s suite, Rian’s knuckles were quite swollen—and hurting like hell, throbbing as angrily as the red color they had turned.
He sat on the footrest of the recliner while Damon perched on the coffee table, and tried to hold still while Damon gently wiped witch hazel over his knuckles. It stung, and the only thing that made it a little better was how carefully Damon cradled his hand in that broad palm, his thumb swiping softly along the side of Rian’s hand in soothing, repetitive strokes while he worked carefully to clean the little cracks of blood out of Rian’s knuckles, eyes lowered and his handsome face set in lines of distracted concentration.
After a few moments, though, Damon murmured, “Nice bluff about the photos.”
Rian smiled slightly. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Hadley had—ooh, ow.” He hissed, flinching but trying to hold still as Damon hit a particularly deep split in his knuckles, pain stinging raw and burning.
He hadn’t meant to hit that distasteful, slimy man that hard. Or at all.
He’d just—just—oh, he’d been so angry.
How dare he treat a child that way?
Damon’s lips quirked; his grip on Rian’s hand firmed, holding him in place. “You’re gonna be okay,” he said softly. “Clocked him pretty good, though. I’d be surprised you’re so strong, but I’ve felt your nails in my back. Got one hell of a grip on you.”
Rian sucked in a breath, his stomach bottoming out. “Damon!”
White teeth flashed as Damon grinned. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
Damon set the pink-stained cotton swabs aside on the coffee table and rummaged into his little first aid kit, coming up with a roll of adhesive bandage tape, but as he lifted his head, dark brown eyes flashed warm at Rian, brimming with unspoken laughter. “Not in the slightest.”
“Terrible,” Rian huffed, but even to him it felt like he was saying...something else. But as Damon began to carefully wrap his knuckles, one at a time, Rian bit his lip, sobering. “Damon...what do we do now?”
“Report that bastard, for one,” Damon growled, taping off one finger smoothly and ripping the end of the tape cleanly off before starting the next one. “But I say we talk to Chris. There’s still a lot of questions I want answered.”
“Like what he needed the money for so badly,” Rian said. “And why he felt like he couldn’t turn to anyone here, if he needed help. If we’re falling short here, if we’re failing in some way that the boys don’t feel safe coming to us, I...we need to know that, don’t we? All of us. Including Walden.”
“Fuck yes.” Emphatic, firm, and Rian flushed with warmth; it just...he needed to know Damon was on his side in this. “But finding out why might answer that. If he’s got some kind of problem, like drugs or drinking...”
“Chris, though? And since his preliminary screens came back clean...”
“...yeah. I don’t know.” Damon sighed, shaking his head as he finished with Rian’s last finger, then covered his hand with Damon’s own, capturing his palm and fingers between the warmth of Damon’s hands and looking at him with a frank, thoughtful gaze. “Kids catastrophize things. Could be something as easy as needing a little spending money to hang out with his friends. He never does seem to spend as much as the others. And somehow needing a little money for the movies got out of control, and he didn’t know how to get out.”