He Loves Him Page 11

  “I don’t know. Don’t think so. Jake?” Jermaine sighed and then there were hands inspecting my torso.

  “Yeah bud?” Jake said.

  “I think my phone’s broken,” I said pathetically as I remembered a cracking noise after one particular kick had landed right where the phone was sitting in my pocket.

  He chuckled half-heartedly then said, “We’ll call your dad later, get you a new one.”

  “Okay,” I accepted.

  “Alright, Riker. Think you can walk?” Jermaine asked.

  I groaned at just the thought, everything hurt, but I wanted off the ground. “With help.”

  “Okay, we’ll take it slow,” Jake ensured me softly.

  They slowly pulled me up to a sitting position and as soon as the spike of pain from that change of position passed, they pulled me to my feet. I was a little dizzy as Jake supported my weight the distance it took to make it from the bus stop to the apartment. It was a long ten-minute walk, but eventually we made it to the door. Jermaine fumbled around with my bag until he found the keys and let us in. Jake led me over to the couch and eased me down onto it. From the sound of it Jermaine was already rooting around the place looking for supplies.

  “Hey,” Jake said tapping my cheek lightly to get my attention, “you want me to call Kit?”

  “No. He’s going to be home in an hour anyway.” I tried to close my eyes then, but Jermaine stepped back into view and snapped at me to keep them open.

  “Can you not yell at me please?” I said quietly as I instinctively curled closer to Jake for some sort of protection from the yelling. It was loud and it made my head throb more than it already was. Plus, I really, really, didn’t think I could handle being yelled at right then, even if they meant it in a helpful way.

  “Sorry,” Jermaine said as he started cleaning the cut on my head, “Jake you might want to call someone and let them know we aren’t going to make it to practice. Then find Riker another shirt, he’s got blood on this one.”

  It was a rare occurrence for Jermaine to take charge in a situation with the three of us. Usually he was too aloof to care, and it was up to me and Jake to figure things out, but when someone was hurt he stepped up. It was the only proof we had that he could cut it in his chosen major and future profession.

  As soon as he had a bandage on my head, he instructed me to look him in the eyes and then do various other things I knew were to check for a concussion.

  “You still seeing okay? Nothing’s blurry?”

  “No,” I answered. He just looked at me curiously for a moment, and I realized he had asked two questions and I only gave one answer, which could’ve been good or bad. Luckily, he didn’t press that point.

  “Dizzy, nauseous, double vision?”

  “A little dizzy, but I was just blaming that on the pain.”

  He hummed a little and tilted his head as he looked into my eyes a little longer, “You don’t need stitches, but I’m not sure if you have a concussion or not. If you do, I can’t tell, but honestly I’d be shocked if you didn’t. A real doctor would know for sure.”

  “Right, well, we aren’t finding out then,” I said as he moved to help me take my shirt off. Lifting my arms was painful, so he did most of the work. He looked up at Jake who had just walked back in with a new shirt and I knew he was looking for back up, but Jake just shrugged and sat down on the coffee table facing me.

  I looked down at my torso in confusion when Jermaine reached out toward it with another towel instead of taking the shirt from Jake. There was a cut there.

  “Jesus, you didn’t even feel that there did you?” he asked. He must’ve seen the confusion on my face.

  “No,” I answered truthfully.

  He just sighed and set to work on cleaning and bandaging that cut as well. I tried not to look up at Jake, who was watching me skeptically and appraisingly. He was just trying to make sure I was okay. I knew that, but I also knew that he’d drag me to the hospital in a heartbeat if he thought he needed to. After another ten minutes of cleaning up the small cuts I had, Jermaine spent another fifteen minutes just making sure there were no underlying wounds, much to my profound annoyance.

  “Everything hurts, Jer, if you aren’t going to make it stop hurting, then you can stop poking me,” I complained.

  “I’m sorry, but you don’t want to see a doctor, so someone has to make sure you aren’t bleeding out on the inside or sitting with broken ribs or ruptured organs.”

  “If it was that bad, you’d know about it already,” I snapped.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize you were an expert.” He shoved a water bottle into my hand as well as some Tylenol, then watched me take it before walking off to the kitchen. I took the opportunity to finally get my shirt back on with Jake’s help. Just as we were finishing Jermaine walked back in with a pack of ice wrapped in a dish towel. He forced it into my hand then moved my hand so that it was holding to the left side of my ribcage.

  “Next time you get yourself beat up you can take care of yourself,” he said as he turned away and sunk into the armchair.

  “Jesus, Jer,” Jake said. He had moved to sit next to me, and I was pretty sure that if I wasn’t in such a state, he would’ve yelled something at Jermaine instead. I just closed my eyes and dropped my head to Jake’s shoulder. The room lapsed into silence.

  That had been a low blow and we all knew it. We also all knew that he was just trying to help, and had rightly been trying to ensure I was okay, and I had basically told him it wasn’t appreciated. I did appreciate it, though. I was just in pain. Jake and Jermaine were probably having a silent conversation about all of it over my head right then.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

  “Yeah, me too,” Jermaine said.

  “Thanks for being my doctor.”

  “Anytime, Riker.”

  “Great, we all friends again now?” Jake said. Jermaine snorted.

  Chapter 30 – Kit

  January 20th, 2017

  Walking into the apartment to find Jake and Jermaine looking after a black and blue Riker was not how I had pictured that part of my day going. All three of them assured me he was fine, despite the fact he was practically glued to Jake’s shoulder. Jermaine checked his head a second time to make me feel better about the cut he had bandaged up. I felt better, until Jake and Jermaine left, and I had moved Riker to his bed.

  I tried to walk away from him, to go cook something for dinner so he’d have something to eat when he woke up, but I only made it as far as his doorway. I couldn’t look away from him. He wasn’t curled up like he normally would’ve been. No, he was on his back with one arm curled over his chest and his head turned slightly to the side on his pillow. It was unnatural and it made my heart ache. My heart hadn’t stopped aching since I laid eyes on him.

  What finally pulled me away from his room was my phone buzzing in my pocket. I took one last look at him before walking out to the kitchen and answering the phone.

  “Any chance you want to go see a movie tomorrow night?” Elyse asked.

  “No,” I answered.

  “Oh, come on, at least let me tell you what movie.”

  “I said no, Elyse.”

  “Give me one good reason. Riker’s got plans with the team, doesn’t he?” she pressed. She always had to press.

  “He got jumped, Elyse,” I snapped. “Neither of us are going anywhere.”

  “Is he okay?” she asked.

  “Will be.”

  “Are you okay?”

  I heard her, but my mind was elsewhere. Riker’s shattered phone was sitting on the kitchen counter. I pressed the screen unlock button just to see if it would turn on. It did, and through the thousands of cracks in the screen I could still make out his background, it was a picture of the two of us from one of our first dates. We had gone to see a movie the university had been hosting on the lawn, and he had been freezing because he had just come from a game and hadn’t had a blanket or a jacket on him like everyone else on the
lawn did. So, he sat in front of me, his back to my chest, and I wrapped my blanket and arms around him to keep him warm. He had cracked a joke just so he could sneak a picture while I was laughing, and it had been his background ever since. The phone didn’t work beyond turning on and off that screen.

  “Kit?” Elyse said, pulling me out of my thoughts and back to the conversation.

  “No, I’m not okay,” I finally answered while tears that I hadn’t realized had been building up started falling. “He didn’t deserve this.”

  “No one ever does,” she said.

  “He was just outside the apartment. He should’ve been safe,” I said.

  “It doesn’t matter where he was, he should’ve been safe from that anywhere.”

  “But he wasn’t, and I wasn’t there to help him,” I said, my voice starting to crack a little.

  “You’re with him now. It’s not your fault, Kit. You can’t be with him every second of every day, and even if you could what’s to say there wouldn’t have just been more of them and then you’d both have been hurt.”

  “I promised myself I’d never let this happen to anyone I loved,” I choked out.

  “You didn’t let it happen. It just did, and you couldn’t have known it would happen. So, you don’t get to beat yourself up about that. You can be pissed at who did it, you can be sad, you can feel whatever bad emotions this is bringing up for you right now, but you do not get to feel guilty.” Elyse was trying to make me feel better, she really was, but it wasn’t exactly her strong suit, and even though the words might’ve been fine, the tone of voice wasn’t. Not that she was saying it all in a rude tone, but it wasn’t soft or emphatic or anything. It was just her normal no-nonsense voice, and as much as I appreciated her trying it wasn’t helping.

  “Seeing him like this, in pain, it’s the worst feeling ever,” it was that feeling that urged me to do whatever it took to make things a little better for him when he woke up, even if that was just making sure he wasn’t hungry, “I gotta go, Elyse, I’ll talk to you later,” I said and hung up.

  I looked around the kitchen in thought for a moment. Whatever I made had to be a comfort food, and relatively easy to eat. Right, cheese fries it was. I set the fries to cooking in the oven and sat down at the counter once again staring at Riker’s phone. The same phone he had used to text an SOS to Jake right before the first punches were thrown. Who knew how bad things would’ve been if he hadn’t sent that text, and Jake and Jermaine hadn’t rushed over. They might’ve only gotten there a minute faster than they would have otherwise, but that minute might have saved his life.

  Riker had already used Jake’s phone to call his dad and tell him he needed a new phone. He’d have a new one in a day or two. He didn’t tell him what had happened to it, just that it broke. I didn’t know if he wasn’t planning on telling his dad at all or if he just didn’t have it in him to do it in that moment, but he told him about the phone. Somehow needing a new phone had become a priority in the aftermath of what happened, and honestly, I was glad. If having a cell phone was the only safety net we had, then I’d force him to take mine before he ever left the apartment without one.

  “What are you cooking?”

  I turned around to see Riker supporting himself on the wall as he struggled to walk over. He was grimacing a little and still had one arm around himself.

  “Why didn’t you yell for me or something?” I said as I bolted over to him and replaced the wall as his support.

  “And risk burning the food? No, no, I smell potatoes, I don’t risk potatoes.” I sat him down where I had just been and kissed him. I let him take the lead, and he kissed me like he was desperate. Maybe he was desperate. Maybe we both were. When the timer started going off it was just a grey noise in the back of my awareness. Then Riker pulled away finally and said, “Save the food, Romeo.”

  I ran a hand through his hair and chuckled before I turned around to see to the food. A minute later I was setting two plates of cheese fries down on the counter between us. His eyes lit up.

  “I love you,” he said.

  “I love you too, Ri.”

  Talking didn’t really happen after that because we were both too busy eating, and no one gets between Riker and cheese fries. I did keep an eye on him while I was eating though. He was only moving his left arm, and he was still grimacing a little every time he lifted it.

  “You can stop looking at me like that,” he said between bites when he was nearly finished with his plate.

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re trying to figure out how broken I am.”

  “I’m not,” I said.

  “You are. I’m not broken, Kit. I’m hurt, on more levels than one, but I’m not broken. I can’t be.” He paused for a moment looking down at his empty plate then back up at me, “I can’t have let them break me.”

  That I understood. The need to keep things together solely so that the other person didn’t win, even if you already lost. To not let them get what they wanted.

  “I’m sorry. I know you’re not broken. It’s just that I hate that this happened to you. It makes me sick, and it makes me want to hurt them back for what they did to you. I wish it had been me and not you. I wish I could take away all the pain you have. And I want to hold you and never let go again. I love you more than anything and knowing this happened to you, seeing you like this, is the worst thing I’ve ever felt. So, no you aren’t broken, but I could’ve lost you today and I keep having to reassure myself that you are okay,” I explained.

  “You were crying, weren’t you?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said as I switched his empty plate with my still half full one. He smiled at me, but his next words weren’t happy. “I keep trying not to cry. I don’t understand why people do this, why they did it to me. It’s not fair, and I don’t understand it.”

  “Because people in power make them think it’s okay to do this to other people.”

  His smile dropped, “Really, politics? Now?”

  “It’s true.”

  “Doesn’t mean I want to hear about it. Especially, right now.”

  “Sorry,” I said, and that seemed to be the end of the conversation.

  He ate a couple more fries before lowering his arm to his lap with a groan and a grimace. “God, it just hurts so much.”

  I walked around to him and mindful of his bruises lightly placed my hands on his hips and kissed his temple. “What do you want?”

  “Ice cream, and probably my bed. Can’t feel it if I’m asleep.” He leaned back until his back was against my chest and I was supporting a decent amount of his weight.

  “Right, well if I move to get you ice cream right now, you’re going to fall out of the chair.”

  He closed his eyes and rolled his head against me. I looked down, watching him, and I knew he was seriously thinking about whether he wanted ice cream more than he wanted to minimize the pain.

  When he finally did crack his eyes open and look up at me, he said, “Will you carry me?”

  “Yeah.” I scooped him up into my arms and carried him back to his bed, jostling him as little as possible. When his head hit the pillow, he loosely took hold of my wrist. “Will you be my pillow? Please?”

  I knelt down next to him and sunk my hand into his hair, “Me playing pillow for you usually involves you lying on your stomach and I don’t think that is going to be comfortable for you this time.”

  “But you’re warm and I love you,” he said as he pouted at me. Between his pout and the glaring white bandage on his forehead, I never stood a chance.

  “I don’t know why I ever try to say no to you,” I said as I climbed in next to him and laid my arm out above his head.

  “Because you’re trying not to spoil me,” he said. He inched closer to me and pillowed his head on my arm.

  “Yeah, I think we both know it’s too late for that.” I nosed at his hair.

  “Yeah it is,” he ducked his head and pressed his face into my neck with a k
iss, “I’m sorry Kit.”

  I frowned. “What do you possibly have to be sorry for?”

  “Not for doing anything, just sorry that this is dragging up bad memories and bad feelings for you.”

  “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

  I played with his hair, curling it and uncurling it around my finger until he fell asleep again. His face relaxed in his sleep; all the pain temporarily whisked away.

  “I won’t ever let this happen to you again. I’ll keep you safe, I promise,” I whispered to him. I kissed his forehead and when a tear spilled out of my eye again, I buried my face in his hair and breathed him in. He was here. He was still here.

  Chapter 31 - Riker

  January 22nd, 2017

  It was only ten minutes after I had gotten my new phone set up that my screen lit up with a message from my dad.

  Dad: Video call, ten minutes.

  “Kit!” I yelled.

  A few seconds later he was standing in front of me. “What?”

  “Help.” I shoved my phone at him, and he glanced at it for five seconds then looked up at me questioningly.

  “I’m confused. You video call each other all the time.”

  “Not when I’m looking like this!” I said and gestured to my head.

  “Wait, you actually weren’t planning on telling him what happened, were you?”

  “No,” I admitted.

  “Why not? I’ve never known you to keep anything from him,” he asked.

  “Because I don’t want him to worry,” I answered.

  He sat down in front of me, put his hands on my knees, and said “Listen. He’s your father. It’s his job to worry about you. He loves you; he’s going to tell you that and ask you if you’re okay, but he’s not going to do anything other than let you know he cares about you. Him worrying about you isn’t a problem. It’s a blessing, Riker. Answer his call. Please.”

  There was a pain in his eyes, and a longing. This was him gently telling me not to be a spoiled brat and appreciate that I had something he never did. And he was right. He would’ve given anything to have a parent there when he went through this and I was acting like having that opportunity was no big deal.