Free In the Blaze of His Hungers by Dominique Frost Page A

doesn’t say he’s anxious or sorry, doesn’t offer any pity. All he says is, “I’ll be there,” and Ryan’s knees all but give out with relief.
    Javier arrives soon after. He catches Ryan’s eyes as he enters the unit and walks straight to him, not pausing to speak before wrapping an arm around Ryan’s shoulders, pulling him close.
    Ryan buries his face against Javier’s jacket, breathing in the familiar scents of motor oil and leather and aftershave.
    The firefighters are gazing at them with confusion, but nobody seems scandalized, so they must consider Javier a family member or a friend. For once, Javier’s age comes in handy; he looks more like Ryan’s uncle than his lover, although that’s usually something Ryan tries not to think about.
    “When’s he due out of surgery?” Javier asks, and Ryan draws away to sit down on the nearest plastic chair. It creaks under him.
    “Dunno. Nurses said it could take hours.”
    Dad’s squad leaves eventually, to go back to work or to their homes. Brad ruffles Ryan’s hair and shakes Javier’s hand, and Raquel asks him to contact the fire department when Dad’s discharged from theater.
    Then it’s just Javier and Ryan, sitting side by side, Ryan’s hand in Javier’s.
    * * *
    Pete turns up an hour later, looking panicked, and Ryan spares a second to feel guilty about not calling him. Pete must’ve found out from someone else, maybe even his Mom, who works at the hospital.  Or maybe not, since Fiona hasn’t shown up herself, which she definitely would’ve had she known.
    “Ryan!” Pete says, but freezes when he sees Javier seated next to Ryan.
    Ryan doesn’t take his hand out of Javier’s; he’s too tired to. He feels hollowed out, emptied of all his fears – all except for one, the fear that his dad won’t make it.
    At this point, it seems insignificant that Pete understands him well enough to know that Ryan isn’t treating Javier like a casual acquaintance, that Ryan never touches people unless he regards them as his own.
    Pete’s eyes dart back and forth between Ryan and Javier, visibly suspicious, and he says: “I ran into Mr. Evans at the convenience store… He told me about the explosion. How’s your dad? He out of surgery yet?”
    “No,” says Ryan, and dimly realizes that it isn’t only him; Javier also isn’t moving away. He’s meeting Pete’s gaze evenly, keeping his fingers interlaced with Ryan’s, as if daring Pete to comment.
    But Pete doesn’t comment. He just goes quiet, for a long, tense interval, and then goes suddenly pale. Ryan can almost read his thoughts at that moment, can almost see Pete putting the pieces together – Ryan’s mysterious ‘fling’, followed by his job at the garage, followed by his calling Javier here before he called anyone else, before he called Pete , and Pete had always been the first person Ryan called. For everything.
    “No,” he says, faintly, as if he’s hoping Ryan will deny it, will come up with an excuse to explain why Ryan and Javier are still touching. “Ryan, you can’t – ”
    “Not now, Pete,” Ryan says. He should be horrified at what’s happening, scrambling to make this seem like anything but what it is. And yet, he finds he doesn’t want to. He’s mentally exhausted, and he needs Javier, and he’ll bloody well have Javier if that’s what he needs. “We’ll talk later.”
    “We – you – ” Pete takes a step back.
    “Pete,” Javier says, and there’s a note of caution in how he says his son’s name, like it’s something rare and fragile, something he’s trying not to break, but fully expects to.
    “This is all you,” Pete hisses at Javier, “isn’t it? You made him – did things – ”
    “Not. Now,” Ryan repeats, and is startled by how brittle he sounds.
    Pete stares at him, and what’s horrible about it is that he doesn’t even look especially betrayed – he looks frightened for Ryan, instead, like Ryan’s hurting himself in ways Pete