CHAPTER 28 – CASPIAN
I don’t remember crossing the room. One second I hear Antonio’s choked, terrified voice and the next second Ryan is airborne. He hits the floor with a sound that’s more disbelief than pain. He scrambles back on his elbows, the color draining from his face.
“Hey, man, relax.”
I bend, grab him again, and lift him with both hands.
His shoes scrape for purchase. His throat bobs, his pulse frantic.
“You touched him.” My voice is calm, but dark fury boils underneath, ready to erupt.
Ryan made Antonio afraid. He invaded his space. He blocked his exit. He touched him. Antonio was paralyzed with fear because of this spineless jerk.
I slam Ryan into the shelf. Books rain down.
He yelps.
His eyes dart around, searching for witnesses. There are none. He chose the quietest time to harass Antonio, and karma is a bitch.
Out of the corner of my eye, I register Antonio.
He’s watching, utterly still, but he doesn’t look as panicked anymore.
How many times has Ryan done something like this to him? How many years?
Ryan swallows. “Come on, Stone.”
A part of me wants to really hurt him. Break, cut, bruise—whatever would cause the most pain.
But I’ve sworn I’ll never be like my father.
I’m a stone that shields, not the kind that crushes.
“You don’t even know what this is about,” he says, his voice getting whinier
by the second.
“You don’t know him like I do. He likes—”
I shove him again, hard enough to rattle his teeth.
“Careful, Rutherford,” I say quietly. “I’m trying to find a reason not to break your bones.”
He makes a choked sound and wets his lips, blinking hard.
“It was just harmless fun.”
“Shut your fucking mouth. You were harassing him. You think that’s fun? You make me sick.”
I grab his face and force him to see the disgust I have for him.
“You stay the hell away from him, got it?”
He nods. Drops his gaze.
“Say it.”
“Yes,” he chokes out.
I shove him away. He stumbles, skids, and bolts for the exit.
The moment he’s gone, I turn to Antonio, careful to not invade his space.
He’s standing now, but his hands tremble. My chest coils with worry.
“Did he hurt you?”
He doesn’t reply.
“You’re safe now. He’s gone.”
I glance at the table, at the shoulder bag and the books and pencils scattered around it.
“ These your things ?”
“Yes,” he says quietly, but still he doesn’t move.
Something occurs to me—something I should’ve asked right away.
“Do you want me to leave? Do I scare you?”
He shakes his head.
“You don’t scare me.” His voice is small, but he looks like he means it.
I close my eyes for a second as the staggering relief washes over me.
“Okay. I’ll help you pack,” I say. “Then I can drive you home. If you want.”
He opens his mouth to argue, like I knew he would.
“Please,” I say. “Please let me.”
He hesitates, and my heart twists, ready to be rejected again. Then he nods.
It’s the smallest thing. The most precious thing. Who knew that a nod from Antonio di Scotti would feel like the greatest gift I’ve ever been given?
And when he gives me a tentative, fleeting smile, I fall even deeper.