Why would he? We didn’t chat.
“Uh, yeah. He just turned nineteen, and… well, he’s a total fuckup.” I stared back out the windshield again. “My mom calls him a free spirit, but he’s not. He’s a selfish asshole who’d rather shoot up and party twenty-four-seven than contribute to our family.” I winced. “Sorry, probably more drama than you want to hear about.”
“Alex…” I faced him, and he spared me a quick glance before refocusing on the road. “I asked.”
He had, hadn’t he?
“You listened to me when I needed it. Let me do the same for you. No judgment. Just listening.”
Had anyone ever made me an offer like that? I’d been judged. Hell, Ryder had been one of the guys to judge me from the moment he met me. It was why I remained tight-lipped about my family situation, even with my few friends. But the sincerity in his tone had me believing him.
“His name is Kenny. We live together with our mom. Kenny doesn’t work or go to school. I have a suspicion he makes some money selling drugs because he has new shit sometimes, but he doesn’t contribute to anything at home. He’s always in some kind of trouble.” I sighed.
Troubled eyes flicked my way. “Your mom doesn’t get on his case?”
I shook my head. She couldn’t get on his case. So much of her mental energy went to struggling through each day. She barely knew what he was up to and when. “I think she carries a lot of guilt since he was so young when she got si—” I cleared my throat. “Um, she has a lot on her plate, so we were mostly left to figure out our own shit. Every once in a while, I get a call like this to drag his ass out of some crap-hole in the middle of the night because he’s too toasted to function.”
“Wow, I’m sorry, Alex. That sounds… hard.” He steered with his left hand and kept the other resting on my thigh. Not squeezing, not trailing up toward my cock, not stroking or trying to elicit a response, just the warmth of a human connection.
I frowned.
Should I shove him off? I wasn’t accustomed to comfort, physical or otherwise. I had no idea how to accept it. What was I supposed to say or do with that hand? It felt nice, really nice.
Soothing, heavy, steady.
What did it say about that part of me who wanted to lay my hand on his and link our fingers together, deepening the connection? It would be weird, right?
I couldn’t allow myself to get used to someone, especially Ryder, making me feel better in a time of crisis. There’d be no repeat of the insanity of this moment, but maybe, just this once, I could leave his hand on my leg and enjoy the feeling of not being so goddamn alone all the time.
No one would have to know.
“How ugly a situation do you think we’ll be walking into?” he asked without removing his hand. Usually, the question would have had me bristling or spitting out an angry response, but his voice didn’t hold any judgment or recriminations.
“Not sure, but whoever it was that called me made it sound bad. And there’s no we. I appreciate the ride and the help, but you’re gonna stay in the car while I go in and deal with Kenny and… whoever.”
He grunted but didn’t respond. I’d take that as an agreement. I couldn’t imagine many rich boys would be eager to drag someone out of a crack house in the middle of the night, especially given the high likelihood that there could be some altercation in the process.
We passed the rest of the ride in silence. For his part, Ryder seemed calm and cool as ever, whereas I grew more disgruntledby the second. The next few weeks would suck. My mom had developed wounds under two of her toes from where they rested against her wheelchair’s footplate all day. She’d been battling it unsuccessfully for months, and we were at the point where she needed surgery and possible toe amputations. She had a few appointments to clear her for the upcoming procedure.
But how could I do that now that I’d have a car repair bill to pay?
“Should be about three houses up here on the right.” Ryder’s voice broke through the silence, making me jolt. “You okay?” he asked as he slowed the car to a roll and finally removed his hand from my leg.
I mourned the loss immediately.
“Yeah, sorry. I zoned out.” I ran a hand through my hair as he pulled to a stop before a small duplex. One side had peeling white siding and a boarded upstairs window. A rusted mailbox dangled from one screw on the house next to the door with the house number, 417, missing a seven where it had been tacked above the door. The second side of the duplex wasn’t fresh and new, but it didn’t scream of a neglected drug den either. It sucked for whoever had to live there.
I sighed, gripped the door handle, then peered at him over my shoulder. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”
Ryder rolled his eyes and reached for his door. “You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you go in there alone.”
“Ryder…” I shook my head. Earlier, the thought of him bearing witness to this part of my life filled me with shame. Now, the idea of him entering that piece-of-shit hovel had me in a near panic. How could I protect him and Kenny at the same time? The dealers in there would smell the money on him the second he walked through the door, and they’d pounce. He was fresh meat. A delicious meal for bottom feeders like the people Kenny hung around.
“This is not a game.” I gave him a furious glare that didn’t seem to register. “The people in there are serious. You’re…”
His eyes narrowed, and his face contorted in a scowl. “I’m what? Too rich? Too soft? Too weak? Too fucking clean to be in there because I showered today?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “That’s not what I mean.”
