“I’m rolling my eyes right now.You reallyare the most ridiculous, egotistical man I have ever met.Seriously, Wes, I think you need a larger body to hold up your bighead.”
“But you like my big head, baby,” Westeased.
“Baby?Have you been drinkingtonight?Wait, why are you calling me?”
“Your text said you had a bad week.I wantedto be sure you were okay.And, yes, I’ve been drinking just a weebit.New Orleans is wild, Ry.I attended a writers’ conferencetoday, and they had free drinks flowing all fucking day.By thetime five PM rolled around, I needed to go back to my room to takea nap.And now I’m headed out again for the closing dinner.”Wespaused and lowered his voice.“But enough about me.Why did youhave a bad week?Are you sleeping okay?”
No, because you’re not besideme.That was the first thought that entered Ryker’s head, eventhough he didn’t say it out loud.Couldn’t, when he didn’t evenknow how to process it.Spock must’ve sensed Ryker’s distress; hebounded up onto the couch beside him, throwing his small, furrybody over Ryker’s lap and cuddling close.Ryker hugged Spock forcomfort before he could speak again.
Wes must’ve put a spell on him or something,because the last time Ryker had slept soundly was the night theyspent together.
“It doesn’t really matter.Besides, I toldyou I’ve been busy.”
“I know that, but I’m worried aboutyou.”
“Wes, the social butterfly, managed to findtime between events to worry about little old me?”Rykerteased.
Wes hesitated in his reply.“You’re mywriting partner now, so I have a vested interest.We need to behonest with each other if this collaboration is going to work.”
Ryker sighed.“I told you I was ajournalist, right?”Ryker paused.“Wait, do you have time for this?I thought you had to leave.”
“I’m not making a speech.I can be therewhenever.Let’s use FaceTime instead.”They switched, and Rykercould now see Wes’s gorgeous face and the hotel room beyond.“Youwere saying?”
“Sometimes I have nightmares.It all goesback to when I was a naive twenty-five-year-old reporter.I waspartnered with a senior writer to do a story on a serial killerfrom Brooklyn.You’ve heard of the Dollhouse Murders?”
Ry paused and Wes nodded, his brow creasedin concern.
“Several young people in their twenties wereraped and killed,” Ryker went on.“The killer posed their corpseswith a doll cradled in their arms.Anyway, when they arrested thekiller, everyone was vying for an opportunity to interview him.Wegot our chance.The killer took a liking to me—I guess due to myage and similarity to his male victims—and insisted that I be theone to interview him.I visited him several times in jail, but bythe third time, I’d had enough.He was just toying with me.Hedidn’t give me any real information that I could use for our story.My colleague kept pushing me to go back.I refused.”Ryker pausedagain.
“The killer escaped when they weretransferring him to the courtroom for his bail hearing.He showedup outside my office when I was leaving late one night.Guess hehad access to the Web to search out where I worked.I often headedout the back exit in the alleyway, and he was waiting there.Andhe… He grabbed me and punched me, knocked me out cold, andapparently started to drag my body away until another colleagueexited the building and scared him off.I was in the hospital fortwo days with a concussion.”
“Jesus, Ry.I don’t know what to say.Fuck,I’m so sorry.”
Ryker nodded and continued, “When I wasreleased from the hospital, I withdrew from everything.I quit myjob.I couldn’t leave my apartment because I was so scared.Theyfinally caught him a few months later, but by that time I wasalready a mess.Finally, my mom and my friends got me to a doctor,and I gradually got better.Medication, therapy, self-defenseclasses, I did it all.And I discovered creative writing.Mac wasinstrumental in encouraging me.At first it was an escape, but itwas also very healing.It gave me purpose again.I’ve made a goodlife for myself, but sometimes, despite my best efforts, thenightmares come back.”Ryker gave a huge sigh as he finished.
“I wish there was something I could say tomake things better.Can I ask what happened to the man thatassaulted you?”
“He was eventually tried and convicted offirst-degree murder of four of his eleven victims.They dropped theassault charges from his plea deal, but he was still sentenced tolife.I don’t worry about him coming after me anymore like I didyears ago, but when I get stressed or anxious, the nightmaresresurface.It’s the same type of scenario where I’m usually tryingto get away from him, but I’m trapped.Talking about it helps.Ionly had one nightmare this week.Just between you and me, Calrecently had an anonymous person sending him weird text messages.I’ve been worried about him, so I think that might have triggeredit.The rest of this week I just kept waking up at two or three inthe morning.I start thinking about stuff and can’t get back tosleep.”
“I didn’t have nightmares after my parentspassed, but I did have insomnia.I couldn’t fall asleep at all, andmy grandmother tried everything.Therapy helped a lot and time.Weall deal with grief and trauma in our own way.Just remember toreach out to people when you need it.”
Wes was lying back on the hotel bed, runninga hand through his hair.He shifted the phone in his hand, andthose warm hazel eyes locked onto Ryker’s.“Don’t freak out on mewhen I say this.”He paused.“I wish I was there with you to giveyou a hug.”
Ryker smiled.“Don’t freak out on me either,but I wish you were here, too.”
“What’s happening with us?”Wes asked,rubbing a hand over his jaw, his lips.
“I don’t know, but it’s fucking scary,”Ryker said truthfully.
Ryker’s mind wandered back to those picturesof Wes in Atlanta, dancing with a handsome man.Was Wes beingtruthful about wanting to be with him?These deeper feelings wereoverwhelming for someone who only had casual relationships, andRyker couldn’t help but worry about what it all meant.Would theybe able to keep their work and personal feelings separate, or werethey creating a situation that was destined to come to a messy andcomplicated ending?
There was a loud banging sound in thebackground, and Wes turned his head.“Shit, that’s my fellowwriters come to drag me out to dinner.I gotta go, but call melater if you need to talk, okay?”
Ryker nodded and Spock raised his head,sniffing at the phone.“Spock, no, do not lick the phone!”Rykersaid.
Wes laughed.“I’m glad Spock is there foryou.”Spock barked at Wes’s voice and continued to lick the phone.“Hey, Spock, give your daddy a kiss for me and make him feelbetter,” Wes said.And with that, he gave a wave.Then the screenwent blank.
Ryker leaned his head back and closed hiseyes.Wes’s face and voice reverberated in his mind so clearly thathe finally, happily, drifted off to sleep.
