by Christi Snow
He sighed and wondered at the futility of him ever trying to date. This crushing weight on his chest, the result of rejection, was hardly worth the effort.
This is why he never dated. Fuck.
“That was harsh.” One of the kids who lived at the boys’ ranch came around the corner from where he’d obviously been eavesdropping. Short and slender, it was hard to judge whether the kid was twelve or twenty.
“Well, yeah, welcome to my life.”
“Do chicks always react to your wheels that way?”
Ryder shook his head, suddenly as physically exhausted as he was mentally. Thank god, Cari had gone out to pull the car around to the doors. He just wanted to go home. “No, some actually look at the wheelchair as a challenge.” The girls who got turned on by the wheelchair had always struck him as a bit sick.
The kid’s eyes widened. “Dude, seriously? That’s either seriously wicked or creepy. I can’t decide which.”
Ryder laughed. “Yeah, I decided pretty early on that it was more creepy than cool.”
“If a girl can’t see beyond the chair then you don’t want her anyway.”
Ryder assessed the kid, surprised at that bit of wisdom. “Hey, that’s actually kind of profound. Maybe you should go on the speaking circuit instead of me.”
“Naw, man, that ain’t me.”
Unfortunately, it wasn’t Ryder, either, but it was the only way he knew to make money. Although Stig had said...
No, he wasn’t even going to consider that. Showing his art would be even worse than doing this. Besides, sometimes he met some really cool, interesting people...like this kid. He was small, but now that Ryder really paid attention, he’d guess he was one of the older kids. He had amazing bone structure that made Ryder itch to pull out his camera and play with the light as it flowed across his silky, ebony skin.
It was hard to know for sure under his dark complexion, but it looked like he had the remnants of a black eye. That could also be a play of the light across his smudged eyeliner. The boy knew how to work his makeup, and that intrigued Ryder as an interesting choice, especially here. The group of boys living here didn’t strike him as the type to deal well with that sort of flamboyance. That took guts for this kid.
“So what’s your name and story then?” Ryder asked him.
“I’m Remy. No story worth noting, at least not with this crowd. Everyone here has been dealt a shitty hand. Mine’s no worse or better than anyone else’s.”
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen last month. They’re letting me stay until I graduate in May, and then I’m done here.”
“What will you do then?”
Remy shrugged. “I don’t know, probably join the Army or something. No money for college and my grades aren’t the best, so it’s either that or work at McDonald’s the rest of my life.”
McDonald’s or the Army...neither one seemed like a good choice for this kid who seemed so delicate and fragile. “If you could go after your dream job, what would it be?”
Remy smiled and closed his eyes. “I’d be a costumer or work in the theater somehow.”
That jived with the makeup. “Have you ever done any modeling?”
Remy’s eyes widened in shock. “No.” He laughed. “Can you imagine? They don’t even accept girls who are as short as I am.”
Without standing, it was hard to know for sure, but Remy was probably just an inch or two over five foot tall, but that didn’t detract from his beauty at all.
Ryder smiled. “Well, you definitely couldn’t do runway work.”
Cari stepped in the door and motioned that she was ready. He held up a finger to hold her off for a couple more minutes.
He turned back to Remy. “I’m an amateur photographer. Would you let me take some shots of you? You’re eighteen, so I could do it without having to get special permission through CPS or your social worker, right?”
Remy blinked at him in shock. “Well...um...sure, I guess.”
Ryder patted his pockets before he remembered that he couldn’t find his phone before they left today. He’d have to ask Cari if she’d seen it. “I’ve misplaced my phone, but here’s my card.” He pulled a business card out of his wallet. “Call me, and we’ll set something up.”
“Okay.” Remy bit his lip with worry. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, the more I think about the possibilities, the more sure I am. Trust me, Remy. The camera is going to love you. I have to go, but promise me you’ll call.”
Remy nodded, and Ryder rolled across the room to the doorway. He’d never really concentrated his photography on people before, but he loved to play with color and light. The possibilities slammed through his psyche, and he was excited to try something different with his camera for the first time in a long time.
Maybe it was time for him to take some of his own advice. Today had been a day of unexpected revelations. While he still hated that Stig had seen his “other” art, his praise had worked itself into Ryder’s consciousness. He may not be able to consciously access that part of his brain, but it was still in there. He had the abilities. He just had to find a way to get to them and create pieces that he would be willing to show other people. He could do this.
Excitement buzzed under his skin. If he’d had his phone, he would have used it to call Stig and share his ideas with him. This seemed like something he should share with the man he’d treated so harshly this morning. But first, he needed to apologize.
Chapter Eight
Ryder
The next morning, Ryder picked up his house phone to call Stig. He still hadn’t found his cell phone and hadn’t seen it since the night at the bookstore, so it occurred to him that Stig might know where it was. If nothing else, it provided him with an excuse to call. He hadn’t been brave enough to examine why he needed an excuse to do that.
The phone rang forever, which was odd. Didn’t Stig have an answering service of some sort set up? But then the phone picked up.
“Hello,” Stig answered, but he sounded weird, off somehow.
“Stig. Hi, sorry to bother you. This is Ryder.”
“Ry?” The word came out sounding more like a sob than a word.
Ryder sat up in alarm. “Stig, what’s wrong?”
“Um, what?”
His words were all slurred together and mushy sounding, which worried Ryder even more. “Are you okay?”
“Sorry, just sick.” Ryder could hear as Stig took a shuddering breath. “Talk later.” Then the connection clicked off.
Something wasn’t right. Stig had taken care of him a couple of nights ago. Maybe it was time for him to return the favor.
Ryder stood, taking quick stock of his body. He’d awoken again today, feeling pretty good. It was a “no wheelchair” kind of day so far. Since he was headed to Stig’s, he hoped it would stay that way. He was pretty sure Stig’s house wasn’t set up to be wheelchair accommodating. Most homes weren’t.
He grabbed his cane in case he needed the extra support later and then headed out his front door to the car he rarely used. Thank fuck he had it now.
***
As part of Mac and Tommy’s social circle, Ryder had been invited to a party at Stig’s home a few months ago. In the end, he hadn’t made it to the party because he hadn’t been feeling well, but he still had the address in his book of life-details he kept with him all the time.
He pulled up to a small ranch house with a distinctly fifties-era style with it’s flat, sloped roof and olive-green, colored-glass, paned front door located in a trendy part of town. All the houses here had that distinctive style of the era and most had been remodeled maintaining their fifties kitsch appeal, but modernized with all the amenities and upgrades of today’s technology.
Stig’s yard was immaculately cared for, with green lawn and manicured garden beds. He must have a gardening service, because Ryder couldn’t imagine the fastidious Stig out here digging in the dirt or sweating as he mowed the grass.
He knocked on
the front door and a large man dressed all in black answered. “Can I help you?” he asked.
Had Stig moved and Ryder hadn’t known about it? “Um, isn’t this Stig Minton’s house?”
The guy raised his eyebrow. “Yeah, it is. Who are you?”
“I’m sorry. I’m a friend of Stig’s. I didn’t mean to intrude, but I called, and he didn’t sound good. I wanted to check on him.”
The guy blew out a breath. “Yeah.” He opened the door further. “Come on in, and I’ll see if he’s okay to see you.”
“No, no. Don’t do that. Honestly, I was just worried he was here sick and miserable all by himself. He helped me the other night when I wasn’t feeling well. I wanted to return the favor and make sure he was taken care of. But you’re here, so obviously he’ll be okay...” Ryder’s voice trailed off from his erratic rambling. He hadn’t realized that Stig had a boyfriend, and that had thrown him off a little bit. “Sorry. I’m Ryder Garrett.”
The guy took his hand and shook it. “Landon Winters.” He stilled. “Wait, does he call you Ry?”
Ryder nodded. “Um, yeah, sometimes.”
Landon looked him up and down. “You’re the guy he mentioned last night.”
Ryder swallowed. How was he supposed to respond to that? He didn’t want this guy getting the wrong idea about him and Stig. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize Stig had a boyfriend, but the other night was innocent. I know he stayed the night, but I had a migraine, and he took care of me when I couldn’t do it myself. That’s all. I’m straight.” God, he’d said that phrase more in the last week than he had in his entire life.
Landon lifted his hands. “Relax, dude. I’m not dating Stig. He was just at my club last night when he got hurt, so I wanted to make sure everything was okay before I left him alone.”
Ryder froze. “Hurt? I thought he was just sick. Oh, fuck. What happened? Where is he?” He didn’t wait for a response. He rushed across the room and to the hall that had to lead to the bedrooms.
He found Stig’s room easy enough. He was passed out on the bed, face-down, completely nude except the swath of thick bandages that ran across his lower back, buttocks, and backs of his thighs. Tiny dots of blood had seeped through the gauze in places.
Horror held Ryder in place for a split second. What could have caused this kind of damage? Nausea churned in his stomach. He turned on Landon and pushed on his broad chest, shoving him out of the room so they wouldn’t wake Stig.
Ryder shut the door behind them. “You need to start talking right now. What the fuck happened to him?”
Landon crossed his arms across his massive chest, but he appeared more tired than aggressive. He eyed Ryder warily as if judging how he would react to whatever he was about to say. “I’m not completely sure exactly what went down. Peter and Stig used to do scenes at the club all the time with no problem. But it’s been at least a year since I’ve seen either one of them, so it was a surprise they were back last night.
“Normally, we leave our regulars alone to whatever they want to do with their play and do a status check about every half hour by the monitors, but something had seemed off with Peter, so I checked on them early. Stig was already unconscious when I walked in, but he’d been gagged so there had been no way for him to call for help. We have a rule at my club that states in scenes where gags and binding are used, a monitor or a safeguard panic button has to be available to the sub all the time. Stig didn’t have those.”
Bile rolled through Ryder’s stomach and cold ice slithered through his fingers.
“I put an end to the scene and called the police.” Anger pulsed beneath Landon’s words. “Stig has seen a doctor, who said he may have some minimal scarring, but it’s mainly just deep bruising and he should be okay in a few days to resume normal daily tasks. He’s on some powerful painkillers right now, so that’s why he’s passed out.”
“But he’ll be okay?”
“Yeah, he should be. I just hate that it happened at all. I don’t understand why. Stig has always pushed the limits, but he’s never been outright stupid, and from what I saw last night...” Landon shook his head. “It shouldn’t have gone down like that. We work hard to ensure the safety of our patrons so shit like that doesn’t happen.”
Ryder knew next to nothing about the whole BDSM kink thing. Hell, he barely knew the basics about vanilla sex. All he knew was rage poured through his system with no way to expunge it.
Landon hadn’t noticed Ryder’s lack of response. “Do you know? Did something happen with that author he dated? That’s what had pushed him to the club last time.”
Author? Suddenly, some of the pieces began to fall into place. “Um, yeah. Mac, that’s the author’s name, he and his boyfriend, Tommy, got engaged a few nights ago.” Was Stig still in love with Mac?
Landon nodded and glanced toward the bedroom door with an unhappy grimace. “Then this makes more sense. That’s why I refuse to fall in love. It’s makes a total mess of your life.”
Landon looked down at his watch. “Listen, I have a meeting this morning. I’d planned to cancel it, but now that you’re here... He would probably be more comfortable with someone he knows rather than me. I really don’t know him that well. Could you stay?”
He wasn’t qualified to take care of Stig. He barely knew the man, and he sure didn’t have the medical training. He glanced at the room. But that hadn’t stopped Stig from helping him when he needed it. “Of course, but I have no idea what to do about his injuries. Did the hospital send home instructions?”
“Yeah, they’re on the kitchen counter with his pain meds. Also, when he wakes up, can you talk to him about pressing charges against this asshole?”
Ryder stilled. “But that asshole’s in jail, right?”
Landon rubbed at his scalp. “No, and that’s the bitch about this whole situation. Stig refused to press charges. I don’t get it. He could have killed Stig. Of course, we’ve banned the guy from the club, but that isn’t enough. He hurt and attacked Stig way beyond a kink scene, and he should be punished for that...before he hurts someone else.”
“Do you think he’ll try to get to Stig again?”
“I have no idea. I wouldn’t be surprised. It would be better all the way around if the guy was in jail.”
Ryder nodded. “Okay, I’ll try to talk to him about it.”
Landon pulled a business card out of his pocket. “Here’s my cell and office numbers. Call me if either of you need anything—anything at all. Can you text me sometime today to let me know how he’s doing?”
“Sure.” Ryder looked down at the card, but then remembered. “I’ve misplaced my cell phone, but I’ll send you a message using Stig’s.”
Landon nodded. “That sounds good. Thanks, Ryder.”
Ryder closed and locked the door behind Landon and shrugged off his coat before squaring his shoulders and heading back to Stig’s bedroom.
He stepped just inside the door and examined Stig from there. How had this happened? Even from a few feet away and asleep, Stig’s muscles stood out in stark relief against his pale skin. Stig was not a weak man. No, he was snarky, self-deprecating, and surprisingly sweet at times. Why would he put himself in a position to get hurt like this?
A low moan emanated from Stig’s chest before he screamed, “No!” His voice sounded tortured as he reared up on the bed, fighting some unseen monster in his dream.
Ryder rushed to the side of the bed and gently touched Stig’s shoulder, far away from the bandages. “Stig, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” His skin blazed under Ryder’s touch. It felt like he was running a fever.
Stig opened pain-filled, glazed eyes. “Ry?”
“Yeah, it’s me. I’m sorry to wake you, but you were having a bad dream. Are you okay? Do you need some more pain meds?”
“You’re standing.” Stig’s words were slurred, but happiness rang in his voice.
He wanted to laugh at the irony that Stig was happy about that tiny accomplishment when he’d obviousl
y had one of the worst days of his life.
“Yeah, I’m having a good day. At least, I was until I found out you were hurt. God, Stig. What can I do to help?”
“You should go home.”
“No, that’s not going to happen. You took care of me. I’m here to return the favor.”
A silent tear slipped out of the corner of Stig’s eye, and Ryder’s breath caught at the tiny glimpse of vulnerability.
“Can you just hold me? Keep the nightmares away.”
For a moment, Ryder was taken aback by that request, but since he’d been standing here, wishing he could offer some sort of comfort, there was no fucking way he’d say no. He toed off his shoes and gingerly crawled into the bed beside Stig, trying not to jostle him too much. There were a bunch of pillows still on the bed, so Ryder propped them up against the headboard and half-sat up and half-lay against them.
Stig opened his eyes again and scooted so he was nestled against Ryder’s side. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
Emotion clogged Ryder’s throat. “Sure. That’s what friends are for.”
He was lying in bed with a naked man, but as he settled his arms around Stig’s shoulders, nothing had felt more right.
Chapter Nine
Stig
Stig awoke on an indrawn hiss that reverberated all the way down his back, hips, and legs. He gritted his teeth and moaned.
A hand landed on his shoulder. He jerked away, trying to escape the danger and fell off the bed, landing on his hands and knees with a hard jolt on the wood floor. The pain had him doubling over into a fetal position. Tears flooded his eyes. His back felt like it was on fire. All he could do was pant with the pain.
The sheets rustled, but everything hurt too bad to look. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t escape.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Relax, Stig, it’s okay.” A hand reached out to steady him. “Damn, come on. Don’t hurt yourself more.”
It was hard to hear over the rushing blood and adrenaline, but he recognized that voice. He looked up. Ryder crouched in front of him looking so worried but afraid to touch him.
