Chapter Twenty Four
Finn
I called Ryder about twenty times on the way to his place and only got his voicemail. I could’ve stopped after the first, but hearing his message was better than driving in silence, and there was no way I was putting on any music.
The first time I was ever at that apartment was to help him move in, with the rest of his family, while I was still in college.
Back then, I was just another strong body, his little brother’s friend, there to lift boxes and haul furniture up the three flights.
It felt like a different timeline. Like one of those alternative history books Ryder liked to read.
Most of the time when I parked outside his place, I was already chubbing in my pants, like those dogs with the bells.
My heart would race, trained to expect pleasure as soon as I got in the door.
That night, technically the early morning of his brother’s wedding, my blood was pumping for much worse reasons.
“C’mon, man. Be there. Open up,” I said to the wall of buttons representing the different residents in Ryder’s building.
I hit the buzzer at least a dozen times, holding it down for ten, twenty, thirty seconds each. I had thought maybe he had gone out and was sleeping it off. But no one could sleep through that buzzer, especially not Ryder, who was the lightest sleeper I’d ever met.
What if he was in there, but not medically able to let me in? My hand twitched, about to grab my phone to call emergency services, but I had never even looked for his car or bike in the lot.
The bike was there, but the car wasn’t. Good, but also terrible. Wherever he went, he stayed there. It was just past two in the morning. If he went out to a bar, there was still a chance he’d come home in the next hour or so.
I decided to wait it out. Maybe it was desperate, or insane, but I loved that man, and the longer I went with no contact from him, the more worried I became.
I tried to listen to music once I got back in my car, but skipped each song after the first five seconds. I turned my car off. I didn’t want to listen to anything.
The last twenty-four hours felt like a month. I started the day right there, in Ryder’s bed. Said I love you to him for the first, well, second time. Then it all fell apart. And only got worse.
He really did that, didn’t he? Hit on me just to get back at that repulsive woman. I mean, he had every reason to, but that was still fucking shitty. I loved him, and what was I to him? A fucking pawn in some game with a bigot? That’s fucked, man.
My jaw clenched. I was still so mad at Ryder. Maybe things felt different from that morning, but I was still pissed. And hurt.
Right? I was hurt and pissed, wasn’t I? That’s what I was feeling, right?
“Fuck, man,” I said to my dark, empty car.
I’m not stupid. A little oblivious, yeah, but I got it, I understood why he did it.
I guess I wasn’t mad about that. I wish he had told me sooner, but ultimately, that wasn’t a big deal.
Once it all came out, and Ryder and I were hooking up, it was clear I flirted with him in Miami well before the jet ski.
Jesus, had he offered me his cock that night we spoke in the booth, I’d have sucked it.
And he must’ve known that. So it’s not like he preyed on some innocent straight boy.
The truth was that I was embarrassed. No, mortified and humiliated, actually.
Because what hurt, what made my stomach tie up in knots all night, was them talking about it.
Not the liking guys part, or the crush on him part, that was silly bullshit.
It was how, in my mind, I could hear them sitting at their table, talking about me. It made my fucking skin crawl.
I squirmed in my seat and rubbed my shoulder blades together. I knew they didn’t mean to hurt me. If Ryder wasn't gay, and I came out, they were the kind of people to join a support group for parents of gay kids or some shit. Even though I wasn’t their son.
Because that was it. That’s what fucking hurt the most. I thought of them like family, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t in on the joke—I was the joke.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, then spread the fingers across my eyes, causing little starbursts behind my lids. There wasn’t any wetness, but they stung.
My family was okay, but his was amazing. Feeling like one of them for so long made me who I was. The entire growing-up part of my life was under their influence. But I never was, and that fucking sucked, man.
I sniffled and wiped my eyes. They were a little wet.
I needed to tell Ryder it wasn’t just him. It was all of them, and me. I might have overreacted a little, but… I wanted an apology. For the revenge thing. For all of it. I think I owed him one, too. But mostly, I wanted to see him drive up and park so I'd know he was okay.
“Jesus.” My eyes were heavy, too.
Once he was good, we’d talk. I didn’t know how it would go, or if we would still be a thing after we spoke, but I missed him. And loved him. And very much wanted him to show the fuck up before my body gave out.
◆◆◆
The light streaming through my windshield woke me up. My tongue tasted of the stale air. The last time I remembered looking at the time, it was almost three. I tapped my phone screen. It was almost six thirty in the morning.
“Fuck!”
I scrambled out of my car, almost falling. His car was still missing, and I called him on the way to the door. And… it rang! But still ended with, “You’ve reached Dr. Ryder Beckett. If this is a medical emergency, please hang up and call…”
The tip of my finger went white as I pressed his buzzer, thinking maybe he took a rideshare or taxi home and didn’t see me passed out in my car. No answer there either.
I sat down on the curb under his apartment building’s awning. The parking lot was wavy in the morning sun, or it was just my eyes. Ryder wasn’t home or answering his phone. I was worried, but more so, I was exhausted. The stress and lack of sleep sat on my shoulders.
My phone had gotten heavier since I pocketed it. Ryder’s recording once again told me to call 911.
“Fuck.”
I pushed images of him dead in a ditch away.
There was nothing I could do. Sleeping in my car again felt stupid, when I could get actual rest in my bed.
What if he didn’t come home and went right to the wedding from wherever he was?
What if he didn’t go to the wedding at all?
No, that wasn’t him. Ryder would never miss his brother’s wedding, even if he should.
I’d just have to go there and try to catch him before the ceremony.