Chapter 45
Forty-Five
Everybody Hurts
Spencer
I woke up this morning reaching for him. The other side of the bed was cold. Empty. For one disorienting second, panic bloomed in my chest. Then I remembered Ryan had mentioned he would be finishing his project with Anthony today.
I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand and squinted at the screen.
He had sweetly texted: Sorry, had to leave early to finish this project.
I know you have that fundraiser tonight.
I won't be able to make it. Don't hate me. A laugh escaped through my grogginess. I don’t think I could ever find it in me to hate him.
The smile faded almost immediately. Because beneath everything else, beneath the affection and relief and warmth the text sparks, there's a pressure building inside me.
A dangerous one. A ticking time bomb. The last several days have dredged up things I've spent years trying not to think about.
Memories. Fears. Old wounds. Questions I don't want to answer.
I've been carrying all of it around like a backpack full of bricks.
And every hour that passes without talking to Ryan feels like someone adding another one.
I need to talk to him. Soon. Before I explode.
“...with these new contracts, we can likely budget for more tech in the learning center.” Jen's voice filters through my office. I blink. Right. I’m in a meeting.
Daydreaming about him. She's sitting across from my desk, legal pad open, discussing funding projections for THRIVE.
“The kids, Bonnie and Jacob especially, want a kitchen” she says. “I think we can pull it off next year.”
I nod automatically. “That's great.” My heart isn't in it. Which isn't fair. Normally I'd be all over this conversation. The thought of giving those kids opportunities they wouldn't otherwise have lights me up. Today, though? Today my brain is somewhere else.
My gaze drifts toward the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bullpen outside my office. Movement catches my eye. Parker and Dita are standing together laughing hysterically. I frown. Then Parker shifts. My stomach drops.
“What the fuck?”
Jen pauses. “What?”
I stare through the glass. Parker is wearing a T-shirt. A black T-shirt. With Ryan's face plastered across the front. Not just Ryan. The screenshot. The viral screenshot. The one from the leaked video. Ryan's face twisted in pleasure. My vision immediately narrows. No. No fucking way.
Then Parker turns around. The back of the shirt reads: THAT'S WHAT I LIKE DADDY. The words Ryan screamed out during a very private moment.
For a second, everything goes perfectly silent.
That ticking time bomb? It just detonated.
I shove back from my desk so fast my chair nearly tips over. Jen startles. “Spence?”
I don't answer. I storm across the office. Yank the door open. And bark, “Get in here. Now.”
Both of them jump. Parker points at himself. “Me?”
“Did I slur my words?”
Their eyes widen, and they practically sprint into my office. The second they're inside, I slam the door. The sound echoes off the walls. Nobody says a word.
I fold my arms. “You think this is funny?”
Parker opens his mouth. “Well—”
Dita immediately smacks his arm. Hard. “Don't finish that sentence.”
Parker blinks. “What?”
His confusion somehow makes me even angrier.
I point toward the shirt. “Ryan is a real person, not some punchline.” No one makes a sound.
“He's a human being with feelings. He's about to go through the hardest thing he's ever had to endure.” I gesture sharply toward Parker.
“And you're all having a laugh.” My voice rises. “Making fucking swag at his expense.”
Parker's face falls. His shoulders sag.
Jen stands from her chair. “Spence—”
“No.” I cut her off immediately. “No. This is not okay.” My chest feels tight.
Too tight. “Ryan has had to hide who he is his entire life.” The words come faster now.
Harder. “And now he's been shoved out of the closet.” I round my desk and collapse into my chair.
My hand disappears into my hair. I grip.
Pull. Try to keep myself together. “Last I checked,” I say roughly, “he's still a client of the agency.”
Nobody moves. Nobody speaks.
“We should all be rallying around him.” My voice starts breaking apart.
I hate it. I hate that they can hear it.
I hate that I can't stop it. “He needs all our help to get through this.” Emotion clogs my throat.
“We should be doing something.” The last word cracks completely.
A strangled sound almost escapes me. Jesus Christ. Get it together.
Jen's expression changes quickly. The irritation disappears. Concern replaces it. “Okay.” She straightens. “That's it.” Then she points toward the door. “You two. Get back to work.”
Parker starts to object. Jen levels him with a look, and he immediately shuts up.
“Everything's fine,” she says. Both nod. Then Jen adds, “And change that shirt, Parker.”
They both suddenly look about twelve years old. Now I feel bad.
Fantastic.
They mumble apologies and disappear. The door closes behind them. Silence settles over the office. I blow out a breath. “Thanks.” I rub my eyes. “I can't believe he—”
“Stop,” Jen interrupts, glaring at me.
I blink. “What?”
“You were out of line.”
My eyebrows shoot up. She points toward the door. “And you're going to apologize to both of them.”
My jaw drops. “Are you kidding me?”
“Not remotely.”
I throw both hands in the air. “Jen—”
“Don't.” She leans forward. Places her elbows on my desk. “You know damn well Parker's shirt is not what has you all worked up.”
I stare at her. Offended. Defensive. Uncomfortable. All at once.
“Was it stupid?” she asks. “Yes.”
“Thank you. The timing was awful.”
“Exactly.” She smirks. “But I promise you that once this blows over, Ryan will be pissing his pants laughing when he hears about that shirt.”
I roll my eyes. Fold my arms. Lean back.
Jen rolls her eyes right back. “But I don't need to tell you that.”
Damn her. She's right—Ryan would definitely find it hilarious. Probably would have if he were here just now. Probably would have ordered ten more.
Jen points at me. “There it is.”
“There what is?”
“The face that says you know I'm right.”
I glare, but she remains entirely unbothered. “You can sit there with your arms folded like a petulant child all you want,” she says, “but we both know what this is about.”
My pulse picks up a few beats. I stand and walk around my desk. Plant myself in front of her. “Oh, we do?”
Jen rises to her feet. Looks me dead in the eye. “It's about time somebody called you on your shit, Stark.”
I stiffen. She doesn't care. “You act like you don't need anyone.” Her voice isn't cruel. It's worse. It's honest. “You've built a silo around yourself.”
I look away. “No—”
“Yes.” Her voice sharpens. “I'll hand it to you. You've done pretty damn well on your own.” She crosses her arms. “You've also done a fantastic job making sure nobody gets inside.”
“Jen—”
“Hell, I've barely managed to peer through the damn window.” Then her expression softens.
“But Ryan?” My heart immediately stumbles.
She smiles. Small. Knowing. “Ryan walked right through the front door, and burrowed himself…” Before I can react, she steps forward.
Presses her finger against my chest. Right between my pecs. “…right here.”
I stare at her. Nostrils flaring. Jaw clenched.
“What are you saying, Jen?”
Her hand flattens against my chest. Directly over my heart. And her voice softens. “You, my friend, are in love with him.” She pats my chest. “And it scares the living hell out of you.”
My eyes close. The room disappears. The office. The city. The noise. Everything. All that's left is the truth that’s been thrown in my face twice now in less than twenty-four hours. It’s raw and undeniable. And suddenly I can't hold it back anymore.
Tears slip down my face. Silent. Steady. Jen gently wipes one away. I laugh once. Broken.
“I know that I’m in love with him.” The words tear themselves out of me. “What if I hurt him, Jen?” I shake my head. “I don't know how to do this.” My voice cracks. “I'll never forgive myself.”
Jen's face immediately softens. She pats my cheek. “The fact that your first thought wasn't 'What if he hurts me?' tells me everything I need to know.”
My eyes squeeze shut. “Why does everyone keep saying the same things to me?”
She rubs my arm. “Because it’s the truth. And because you’re hard-headed.” Her voice gentles. “Isn't it time you stopped punishing everyone who tries to care about you in the present… for people’s actions from the past?” I swipe tears from my eyes. “Actually,” she says, “stop punishing yourself.”
The words hit squarely where she intended.
“Everybody has a past, Spence. Everybody has scars. Everybody hurts.” She reaches up and squeezes my shoulders.
“I've let you get away with yourself for too long, my friend.” She smiles sadly.
“But now you've got the brightest ray of sunshine I've ever met trying to beam his dopey brand of caring directly at you.”
A watery laugh escapes me—because that is Ryan.
Exactly Ryan.
My Ryan.
Jen points at me. “I'm not going to let you fuck that up.”
“That's what I'm afraid of.”
“The only way you can fuck this up” she says, straightening my tie, “is by not trying.”
I stare at the floor, then finally whisper the truth. “I don't...” I swallow. “I don't want to be without him.”
Jen immediately wraps me in a hug. I laugh through another stupid tear. “Thanks, Jen.” I squeeze her back. “Truly.”
She shrugs. “That's what I'm here for.” Then she grabs her bag, and heads toward the door. “I'll see you at the fundraiser tonight, right?”
I groan. “I don't know, Jen. It's been a rough few days.”
She stops. Turns. Levels me with a look. “Not optional.”
I sigh. “Jen—"
“Spence.” Her tone leaves no room for argument. “It's really, really important that you're there tonight.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why?”
She smiles. A little too innocently for my liking. Then says, “Because I said so.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It's the only one you're getting.”
I groan again.
“I will hunt you down, Stark.” A beat. “You know I will.”
Unfortunately, I do.
“Fine.” I grumble.
“Good.” Then she leaves.
The door clicks shut behind her.
I stare at it for a long moment. Then slowly lower myself back into my chair. The office is quiet again. But somehow it feels different now. Clearer.
I look down at my phone. At Ryan's text. Tonight. No matter how late it is. No matter how exhausted we both are. Tonight, I'm talking to Ryan. Because I can't keep carrying this around. And because for the first time in my life, losing someone scares me more than letting them in.