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

doesn’t know how to stop. “You can’t trust him,” he says to Ryan, at last. “You can never trust him, Ryan.”
    Javier doesn’t deny it. He’d as much as said that to Ryan that himself, instructed him to leave, given him the reasons why.
    Ryan had chosen Javier anyway. He’s choosing Javier today.
    “ Lemme know how your dad does,” Pete says. “I… I’ve gotta go.”
    And Ryan lets him go. He may not have a friendship to return to, after this. The wound of it is too deep for Ryan to feel any pain, yet. He’s dull to all sensation, numb to all emotion.
    “I took that from you,” Javier says, but it isn’t clear whether he’s blaming himself or stating a fact. His eyes have fallen shut and he’s gone very still, as though the tiniest movement will dislodge Ryan’s hand, and he can’t bear for it to. “I’m taking that from you.”
    “Yeah,” says Ryan. “So you’d better stay.”
    * * *
    When they’re let in to see Dad, he’s still sedated, sleeping off the morphine. He’s hooked up to wires and beeping machines and his legs are wrapped in bandages so thick they don’t resemble legs anymore. His vitals are stable, but his face is drawn and wan. Ryan’s eyes feel dry and gritty from how long they’ve been open, but he can’t sleep, not when he has to watch over his dad.
    Still, the hospital doesn’t permit visitors to stay overnight, so Ryan has to leave. He goes back with Javier, to the bedroom above the garage, and once they’re on the bed he rolls into Javier’s embrace, pulls Javier’s hand down between his legs.
    “Ryan,” Javier says, but Ryan shushes him with a kiss.
    “Just… make me come,” he says, and Javier does, and it’s good, so good it makes Ryan cry.
    * * *
    Dad’s awake the next day, but he’s still woozy. All his conversations with Ryan are brief, because he keeps slipping under. Ryan wonders if his dad can feel the pain with all those drugs, or if they’re holding it at bay. The doctors are still focused on giving Dad intravenous fluids to restore his body’s balance, and at this stage it’s pretty much that, pain management and the prevention of infections that are the most crucial aspects of his treatment. Ryan sends Javier texts about how it’s going, because Javier’s opened the garage for business again.
    Fiona appears frequently throughout the day, whenever she can, helping Ryan understand the technical terminology the medical staff tend to spout with dizzying consistency.
    When Pete pays a visit, he talks to Dad but not to Ryan, and it’s so awkward and abnormal that even Dad, who’s drugged to the gills, notices.
    “Did you two have a fight?” he asks Ryan, his words slurred and drowsy.
    “It’s nothing much,” says Ryan, and smiles. “Don’t worry about it.”
    “I remember when you were in third grade,” Dad says. “You fought for four straight weeks. Fiona and I went stir-crazy trying to get you kids to make up.”
    “But we made up, right? We’ll make up again. It’ll only… take a while.”
    “ Mmm,” says Dad, drifting off again. “G’luck.”
    * * *
    Over the next month, Ryan’s daily schedule alters to suit the hospital’s visiting hours. He spends all day with Dad, bolstered by his hitch-free recovery, and then goes over to Javier’s place, where he’s got some clothes and an extra toothbrush. He doesn’t talk to Pete, but in a way, he doesn’t have to. He knows Pete won’t tell Dad or Fiona about Javier. Pete will make Ryan’s life hell once he decides to talk to him again, however. Ryan’s almost looking forward to that. Okay, he isn’t. But it’ll be a damn sight more bearable than this endless no man’s land stretching between them.
    Ryan receives his acceptance letter from Branston right after Dad comes home. They celebrate simply, with delivered pizza and ice cream. Ryan’s schedule alters again, his time with Javier severely curtailed now that Ryan’s priority is taking care of Dad, who’s still