6. Oz
CHAPTER SIX
OZ
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Oh fuuuuuuck.
He’d fucked up. He’d massively and completely fucked up. His first kiss with a man was stolen without any sort of consent. And it was a lie. A bald-faced pile of bullshit. Well, mostly. He was bisexual, though that was the first time he’d said it aloud to anyone. Even himself.
And he definitely liked Ridge. The crush he had on this man was driving him wild.
But they weren’t in love. Oz didn’t even know if he was capable of falling in love. Any hint of romance he’d ever engaged in seemed to turn to shit. He and Darcy had been on and off again because she wanted him to be anything and everything he wasn’t.
She wanted him to be rich, successful, and hearing.
He was a broke-ass high school teacher who hated the little implants that lived in his head. He wanted to come home at the end of the day and bask in the absolute void of sound until he was forced to venture out into the world again.
But Darcy had never let him. Twice, he’d woken up to her attaching his CIs to his head while he was asleep because she didn’t want to deal with him “being deaf” when he first woke up in the morning. The second time she’d done it was when he ended it with her for good.
He was reeling now because how had it come to this? How was this happening?
Even as his lips danced against Ridge’s, he didn’t get to enjoy it because his mind was consumed with the fact that his mother had pulled this stunt. Putting him on the spot, telling everyone he was proposing to a woman he never wanted to see again?
His stomach was roiling.
When he pulled back, he could see Darcy running through the crowd, Alora going after her. His mom looked furious. His dad was on the deck, looking bored and a little confused. Grady was by the grill, very clearly trying not to laugh.
And Ridge was standing like Oz had literally frozen him in place.
Fucking shit.
His lexicon of swear words wasn’t big or creative enough for how he was feeling inside. He rubbed his fist in a circle on his chest very quickly. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said again.
Ridge seemed to snap out of it, and he gave a quick shake of his head, reaching for Oz’s hand. He linked their fingers together, and Oz almost fainted with relief. Whatever damage he’d done, at least Ridge wasn’t going to sell him out.
That just went to show Ridge was a better person than him because Oz wasn’t sure he would have done the same if the situations were reversed.
A warm hand around his wrist drew Oz back to the present. He looked up into Ridge’s face and saw a mixture of worry, sympathy, and understanding. He also looked a little dazed.
‘What do we do?’
Oz nearly laughed at the question. How the fuck did he know? He’d given his family pushback before, but he’d never openly defied them like this. Which was probably why his mom felt like she could pull a stunt this ridiculous.
‘I don’t know.’
“ Osric !” He winced at the shrill shout from twenty feet away. He turned to see his mom walking toward him. “This isn’t funny. Your practical jokes are?—”
Oz didn’t hear the rest. He reached up and yanked his processors off and shoved them at Ridge, who fumbled before taking them into his free hand. His mom’s eyes went wider, face redder, her mouth moving in a way that told him she was shouting.
It was funny because she knew without his processors, he was completely deaf. It had been the one warning that had given her pause when she was agreeing to the surgery. But in the end, having a kid who functioned with her version of normal was better than preserving anything natural about him.
But the fact that she raised her voice like maybe her will alone could overcome his total and complete deafness was so hilarious he started to laugh. He couldn’t help it. He knew it probably sounded hysterical and a little wild.
And everyone’s faces told him that, yeah, he looked like he was about to lose it.
Shit, maybe he was .
He needed to get out of there.
He turned his back on her and asked Ridge though his giggles, ‘Can we go?’
Ridge nodded frantically.
Oz was still laughing when his mom grabbed his shoulder and spun him. She was speaking with exaggerated movements now, like somehow that was going to make him understand better. He held back another rush of laughter and shook his head.
‘Can’t understand. Sorry. I’m leaving.’
“Don’t you dare,” he saw her say. It was one of the first phrases he’d ever memorized while learning to lipread. It was her absolute favorite thing to say when she wasn’t getting her way.
He tapped his ear, shook his head, then turned and began to push through the crowd. He could feel the energy of everyone behind him. He knew his mom well enough to know she was screeching for someone to stop him, and he knew that no one was brave enough to do what she asked.
In all honesty, the only thing that mattered right then was the feel of Ridge’s hand in his own and the fact that the man was matching his pace as they walked through the side gate, around the pebbled path, and stopped on the driveway.
His heart sank when he realized his car was boxed in.
Oz turned when he felt a tap on his arm, and he looked at Ridge. ‘Your car?’ Ridge asked, pointing to it.
Oz nodded. ‘What do I do?’
‘Come with me. I’m parked around the corner. I’ll drive you back later this evening when everyone’s gone. You won’t have to see them or talk to them.’
Oz wanted to cry. In fact, he probably was going to cry the moment he got somewhere safe and solitary. The emotions in his chest were overwhelming, and he hadn’t even begun to start dealing with what his mother had done to him.
She’d always been slightly out of line, but this ?
He shuddered, swallowed past a lump in his throat, then gestured for Ridge to lead the way. Each step he took felt like a mile, each house length between himself and his mom an ocean. And by the time they turned the corner, Oz felt like he’d reached a different planet.
He followed Ridge to his small car, which was badly in need of a wash, and before he could reach for the passenger door handle, a firm grip on his arm stopped him. He looked to his left and met Ridge’s concerned eyes.
‘Are you okay?’
Oz swallowed past a boulder lodged in his throat. He licked his lips. He shook out his fingers like maybe that would somehow make forming words easier, but it was like a heavy weight was on his chest, and he couldn’t breathe.
Fuck .
“Hey,” he saw Ridge say. He took a step closer to Oz and aborted a reach for him. ‘Can I hug you?’
Oz wasn’t sure if he should say yes or no. Comfort and tenderness might very well break him, and he didn’t want to fall apart there. He hated showing emotion in front of people. The closest he’d ever come to breaking down was when he’d been pinned to the hospital wall by uppity cops after a nurse falsely reported him as being the man who hurt Rex. But he’d kept a lid on that too.
He’d waited until he got home before he fell apart, screaming his throat raw into a pillow so no one could hear him. Then he’d cried, but only in the shower where the water could hide the evidence, even from himself.
The last person in the world he wanted to think he was weak was this man.
But he needed a hug, damn it.
Ridge didn’t wait for an answer. He must have read it on Oz’s face because he tugged him carefully into his arms and wrapped around him like the world’s softest, warmest human octopus. Oz shuddered, buried his face in Ridge’s chest, and while he didn’t hug back, he let himself breathe in his scent for a long, long moment.
And the second he felt his resolve start to break into spiderweb cracks, he pulled away. ‘Thank you,’ he signed with shaking hands.
Ridge nodded, his jaw tense, but he let Oz go and clicked the button on his key fob. The lights flashed, and Oz took that as permission to climb inside, close his eyes, and let himself sink into the darkness and silence of his own body.
Ridge didn’t take him home. Oz was expecting him to, but instead, he went through a drive-thru and then drove over to his own place and let the car idle in the driveway. Oz could feel the man’s dark gaze studying him.
‘Is this okay?’ Ridge eventually asked.
Oz nodded. In reality, going to his cold, impersonal condo was the last thing in the world he felt like doing. He wasn’t up for a lot of conversation or socializing, but right then, he wanted someone nearby.
Ridge jerked his chin toward the door, and Oz followed him out and up the three steps to his front door. The inside was almost as familiar as Frey’s place now. Oz didn’t spend a lot of time with Ina at home, but they did occasional language tutoring at her kitchen table, and Oz came in once every few months to make suggestions on new tech Ridge could install to make the place more accessible for his daughter.
He felt comfortable enough to drop onto the couch without waiting for an invitation, and he leaned his head back against the squashy cushion as Ridge went to the kitchen and returned with two glasses of water and a couple paper plates for their tacos.
Oz wasn’t hungry, but he knew he’d regret it later if he didn’t force himself to have at least a few bites. His stomach felt like it was full of rocks, but the food smelled amazing, so he took the plate Ridge filled for him and settled in.
‘Okay?’ Ridge asked, eyeing him carefully.
Oz let out a small sigh. He wanted company, but he didn’t want to be fussed over. He didn’t need to be mothered by anyone. He’d gotten by with a self-absorbed set of parents his entire life, and he didn’t need to replace them with a well-meaning friend.
‘Sorry,’ Ridge signed a second later.
Oz felt guilt hit him, and he set the plate down on his thighs so he could answer. ‘It’s not your fault. I’m just trying to process.’
Ridge’s brow was furrowed, and Oz had a feeling he didn’t understand what he was signing, but he didn’t have it in him to explain it. But Ridge seemed to get it all from context because a second later, he tapped his Y hand in the air a couple times. ‘ Peh-peh . Eat. Relax. I’ll turn on the TV.’
And then he did just that. He reached for the remote, and a moment later, the TV flipped on to whatever streaming service Ridge had been watching earlier that day. The row of suggested movies and shows were all very clearly geared toward Ina, which made Oz smile. God, the guy was such a good dad.
A small part of him wished that Ridge was a worse person so he didn’t have to deal with the scope of his feelings. He wanted a reason to shut it all down, but the longer he spent in Ridge’s presence, the more he realized that his crush wasn’t going anywhere. The guy was the whole damn package.
‘This okay?’ Ridge asked after waving at him.
Oz’s gaze darted back to the TV and saw it was some cooking competition show with rolling captions along the bottom. ‘Yeah. I’m not really paying attention.’
Ridge gave him a soft pat on the knee, then dug into the tacos like they owed him money. Oz watched, fascinated at how quickly he could take them down, and though he tried his best not to stare at the man’s biceps, it was impossible.
He had gorgeous ink on his arms, rippling muscles that probably extended into his shirt-covered areas Oz would probably never get to see. Even his neck was thick and corded.
He swallowed heavily and turned his gaze back to his plate. His fingers were still a little shaky as he picked up the first taco, and while his stomach gave a roll of protest, he bit down.
“Holy shit,” he said aloud.
Ridge’s head whipped to the side. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing, nothing,’ Oz signed quickly. He chewed and swallowed. ‘These are amazing.’
Ridge’s head tipped back with his laugh. ‘I know. The only good place around here. The only real decent place on the East Coast that I’ve found.’
Oz’s brow lifted. ‘You’re a taco expert?’
Ridge laughed again, but there was something else that flared to life in his eyes. Something a little…sad. And dark, maybe. ‘When I was fourteen, my parents got divorced. It was complicated.’ His hands were a little stiffer than usual. ‘I had to go live with my dad’s sisters in SO-CAL for a few years.’
Oz’s eyes widened. ‘A few years?’
‘Well, I stayed there for six years. Neither one of my parents wanted me back after they split,’ Ridge said. He glanced away for a beat and swallowed hard. ‘My aunts weren’t much better than my mom and dad, but at least I had a place to crash. I went back to visit my mom one summer, and she’d moved into a one-bedroom apartment and told me to sleep in the dining room. She put an air mattress under the table.’
A rush of bile headed up Oz’s throat. He’d had no idea. Ridge had always seemed kind of silver-spoon spoiled with the way he cared for people. Too kind. Too accommodating. Most people like Ridge learned it from growing up in homes that offered deep love and constant comfort.
‘When I was eighteen,’ he went on, ‘my friend and I dropped out of high school and moved south to Mexicali. We worked under the table at this beachfront taco shop, and I learned what was good and what wasn’t.’ He winked. ‘These are good. Not as good as my shop used to make, but close.’
Oz had no idea what to say. At all. Everything he thought he’d known about Ridge felt turned upside down.
He picked up the first taco and polished the rest off in four bites, which made Ridge grin happily. His ears turned slightly pink as he set his plate down and then settled back with a pleased expression, arms folded over his chest.
Nothing could erase the ugly, heaving feeling sitting on Oz’s chest or the guilt he felt for dragging Ridge into something he hadn’t asked to be part of, but seeing him even a little self-satisfied took some of the sting out. And for the first time in a long, long time—an arm’s length away from Ridge—Oz actually felt like he had a soft place to land.