“Thank you.” Ryder sweetened his tea with a liberal splash of honey.
“You’re welcome.” But Ryder hadn’t answered him. “Are you ignoring me or did you not hear the question?”
“I feel bad about telling. I feel like a shitty person.”
He slid his fingers over Ryder’s white hair. “The beautiful thing about an intimate relationship is you can say anything you want without judgment.”
“I just wish they’d call Roper. Or that someone else would do it for a little while so I can focus on us.”
He understood why Ryder felt that thought made him a bad person. “That’s okay, you know. Old habits are hard to break. You’re redefining yourself, and they’re not ready for it. Have you tried not answering the phone? Because that is an option. If you don’t answer, maybe then they will actually call Roper.”
“Maybe…” Ryder jumped as his phone rang again, and the hot tea spilled, landing in Ryder’s lap. “Motherfucker!”
“Boy.” The word just came out of his mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world, and he didn’t question it. He took the mug and put it on the counter. “Sit. Don’t answer it.”
Ryder blinked at him.
Then he sat.
“Give me your phone.” He held his hand out for it expectantly and didn’t intend to have an argument.
Ryder’s hand was shaking, but he handed it over, no question.
“Thank you. Now, please go upstairs and change into something dry, something softer—sweatpants perhaps—and wait for me in the bedroom. I’m going to clean up here, and then I’ll join you.” He wanted to give Ryder a moment without eyes on him, but only a moment, not long enough for him to spiral again.
“I’m sorry for spilling the tea. I can clean it…”
“I don’t care about the tea. I care about you.” He took a step closer and caught Ryder’s chin in his fingers. “I care about you.”
Was he wrong, or were there tears in Ryder’s eyes? “I care about you too.”
He didn’t let himself go too deep into what the tears meant yet. He wanted to be comfortable; he wanted to hold Ryder in his arms and listen. “I know. And I love you for that. Go upstairs and change. I’ll be right there. I promise.” He stepped back so Ryder could get up.
“Yes, Sir.” Ryder headed upstairs, rubbing the back of his neck on the way.
He sighed and looked at Ryder’s phone, then set it on silent and placed it on the kitchen counter, leaving his own right beside it. It took him all of five minutes to put the mugs in the dishwasher and clean up the spilled tea, and then he was on his way up the stairs to Ryder.
To his…boy. Lover. Cowboy.
To the man who needed him right now.
That thought had him taking the final few steps two at a time. He stepped through the partially closed bedroom door and glanced around for Ryder.
Ryder had on a pair of sweatpants, a huge sweatshirt, and he had been staring out the window until he heard Charles, then he stood.
He kicked off his shoes and went right to Ryder, arms open. “Come here.”
“Yes, Sir.” Ryder burrowed into his embrace, arms wrapping around him.
“I’ve got you. Just let the noise go. It’s just you and me now.” He held Ryder tight, nose pressed against the top of Ryder’s head. “You can say anything you like, ask for anything you need. It won’t leave this room.”
“I needed a hug. I have the worst headache.”
He held on, absorbing Ryder’s anxiety and returning all the calm strength he could muster. “Can I get you something? Tylenol? I was thinking we could lie down. Talk.”
“I’d like to lie down with you. Please. If you’re not too busy.”
“I am never too busy for you. You’re the most important person in my life. My phone is with yours downstairs, and it’s going to stay there so we’re not interrupted by anyone.” He let Ryder go long enough to remove his dress pants and his jacket and pull on a pair of sweatpants so they’d both be comfortable.