Heat floods through me at his confession."Like what, baby?"
The endearment slips out without thought, but his soft moan tells me he doesn't mind.
"Like... like Icouldlet go and stop thinking. Like… I was safe. With you."
My heart stutters. No one has ever said anything like that to me before. Ifeellike the fucking king of the world.
"You were so perfect,"I tell him roughly."Are perfect. The sounds you made when I..."
"When you what?"He sounds desperate. I. Am. Here. For. It.
"When I finally got my mouth on you. God, Rylan, you were trembling so hard when I swallowed you down to the back of mythroat. You're the perfect size. Like your cock was made for my mouth. And then the way you grabbed my hair, and…"Words fail me as I speed up my strokes, my breaths coming faster.
On my little screen, Icanseethe sheen of sweat that's broken out across Rylan's pecs, and the flush coloring his neck. Fuck me, I'm not going to last much longer."Fuck."The word comes out strangled.
"I've never... not like this... not with someone watching…"he gasps, biting down on his bottom lip, like he has to fight to hold himself back.
"It's okay,"I soothe."I've got you. You're so fucking gorgeous. So perfect. Just like that night. The sounds you make are going togetme off... Fuck, Rylan, I want toseeyou. Please?"
He hesitates, but then he shifts the camera, focusing on his hand as he jerks his gorgeous, impossibly hard cock.
"Oh god, Rylan,"my voice is strangled, but I manage to shift my phone so hecanseeme too. I want him toknowhow much he affects me.
Chapter 22
RYLAN
The Vancouver rehab facility looks nothing like I expected. It's more like a fancy resort than a hospital. The buildings are all wood and stone in the Craftsman style, and they sit on a sprawling property overlooking the ocean in the suburb of West Vancouver, on the way up to Whistler. Walking paths wind throughcarefullymaintained gardens, and the sound of waves crashing onto the rocks below reaches us as get out of the rental car.
Jamie's mom was able to make a call and get Dad into this place in less than 24 hours. Alexandra Pirelli has been added to my very long list of people who will be receiving extravagant thank-you gifts from me.
Thinking about Jamie sends a rush of heat through my belly as the memory of last night's video call flashes into my mind. But I push it aside. I need to befullyhere for Dad right now.
We head toward the main building, Dad shuffling along beside me, looking smaller and older than normal. The tremor in his hands is worse than usual. I'm guessing it's nervousness as well as whatever symptoms he's experiencing from not havinghad a drink today. After drinking for twenty years, I doubt his withdrawal is going to be like sleeping off a hangover. But this place has medical staff to help manage the physical effects so he can start working on the emotional stuff.
"Your mother would be proud of you, you know."His voice is gruff but steady."Proud of both of us, maybe.Finallyfacing our demons."
The words hit me hard. A couple of months ago, I wouldn't have believed Dad was capable of that kind of self-awareness. A few months ago I was still pretending I could control everything in my life through sheer force of will. But that was before Jamie Pirelli crashed into my life and started knocking down all mycarefullyconstructed walls.
"Let's get you checked in,"I say, squeezing his shoulder as we walk through the automatic doors. The gesture feels foreign—we're not a touchy-feely family. But maybe that's something else that can change.
The admissions nurse greets us with practiced warmth and a genuine smile. She hands us a stack of forms, and Dad starts filling them out, his handwriting shaky but determined. I notice he doesn't try to hide his tremors. He's not making excuses anymore. I hope that's a good sign.
The intake counselor leads us down a sunlit hallway to what will be his room for the next ninety days. It's simple but comfortable, with a single bed, a desk, and an ensuite bathroom. Dad sets his duffle bag downcarefullylike he's afraid to disturb the quiet.
"You can help him unpack if you'd like,"the counselor says."Then we'll need to do some initial assessments."Her tone is kind but professional. No judgment, just facts. Jamie's mom sounded the same way when I talked with her about getting Dad in here.
We work in silence, folding his clothes and arranging his toiletries. The roomslowlytransforms from sterile to lived-in, although it still feels temporary. Like a kind of waystation between who Dad was and who he's trying to be.
"Ry."His voice catches as he pulls Nick's old junior team hoodie from his bag. The one Mom kept meaning to throw out when he first left for college, but never could. 'I've been wearing thislately. When things get... when I need...' He trails off.
My throat tightens."That's a good idea. Keep it close to you,"I manage."Whatever you need to get through this."
He nods,carefullylaying the hoodie on his pillow."You should get back to your team."His eyes are clear and focused for the first time in a long time. And there's something new in them when he looks at me. It feels like understanding. Or acceptance."Back to your friend, Jamie."
Heat floods my face, but I don't deny it."Yeah. I shouldprobablyget going."
"Tell him..."Dad clears his throat. 'Tell him thanks. For his mother's help. For... everything."
