I can’t seem to sit still despite the late hour. I’ve already cleaned the mirror, shower door, and window, dusted my room, vacuumed, changed the sheets, and reorganized my closet. There’s nothing left for me to fix.
I’m still reeling, pacing my room, when Dad rushes in, a frantic, concerned look on his face. For a minute, I wonder if he’s seen the texts and is worried too.
“Hey, kiddo, you think you could make sure the guest room across the hall is ready? I know you have some extra art stuff stored in the closet, but we need the space.” He scrubs a palm over his face, weariness shining in his eyes. “Canyon needs it.”
Canyon?
“What? Why? He’s coming to stay with us?”
A slideshow of filthy images flit through my mind all at once, but I quickly shut down that line of thinking because getting a boner in front of my dad would be awkward as fuck.
“Aimee kicked him out. Ryan and I are going to head over there to help grab some of his stuff.”
My blood runs cold, the heat leeching from my body almost instantly. Did he tell her about us? No. He wouldn’t. They must have had another fight about the meet and her lying about why she didn’t go to it.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I’ll get it ready.”
Dad leaves and I hurry into the guest room across the hall. The situation is shit, but I can’t deny the thrill that shoots down my spine at having him nearby. While the house is quiet, I set to emptying out the closet and moving the art supplies into my studio. I’ll organize it better when I’m not in a rush. I take my obsessive need to clean into what’ll now be Canyon’s room, making sure every surface shines and is dust free. After I’ve changed the bedding and scrubbed the toilet, I admire the space that he’ll soon clutter up. The thought, surprisingly, doesn’t upset me.
Right now, I need him here with me. I want to talk to him about the texts to see what he thinks about them. Plus, I think he needs me too. His fight earlier with his mom is the catalyst of what brought us together sexually. Emotions were running high. I can only imagine what getting kicked out of his house will do to him.
I’m sitting on his bed, waiting, when Ryan walks in carrying an armful of clothes on a hanger. His jaw is clenched and the furious glint in his eyes is one I’ve never seen before. It reminds me of Canyon so much it’s chilling.
“Everything go okay?” I croak out.
He hangs the clothes up in the closet and comes out wearing a look of a disgust. For a second, I feel exposed—as though he knows that I blew his son earlier.
“I know I fucked things up with Aimee because I have loved your dad for as long as I can remember, but it’s unimaginable that she’d take it out on Canyon.” He blows out a sharp breath. “He’s already so fragile.”
Fragile and Canyon aren’t two words I’d put in the same sentence, but Ryan certainly believes it based on the tense, worried expression on his face.
“I’ll make sure he’s okay,” I vow, meeting his sad stare. “I promise.”
And I will.
It’s messed up what me and Canyon have been doing, but I care about him more than a casual hookup. I don’t want him to hurt. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he doesn’t.
“You’re a good kid,” Ryan says, studying me with pride. “I’m proud to soon have you as a son, too.”
Son.
Yikes.
It’s a good reminder that I need to tread carefully. The last thing I need to do is screw stuff up with Ryan. Dad loves him and if I piss off his soon-to-be husband, I’ll be more disposable than ever.
Ryan leaves the bedroom and I go to the closet to neaten up the hangers that he haphazardly threw on the rack. It’s clear to see where Canyon got his messiness from. After living with Ryan for a few short months, Dad’s house cleaner, Carole, has had to come a lot more often. Poor Carole’s really going to have her work cut out for her now.
This time, Dad is the one who shows up with a stack of clothes with Canyon following him, a box in his hands. His eyes are downcast, and a frown tugs at his lips. I ache to yank him into my arms, but I’ll be damned if I do that in front of Dad. Once Dad leaves and it’s just the two of us, I do exactly as I craved the second I saw him. I throw my arms around his neck, yanking him to me in a fierce hug. His muscular arms encircle my waist, locking me against him. I press my lips to the side of his neck, murmuring assurances that have him clutching my shirt and exhaling a staggering breath.