Page 11 of See My Words

“He doesn’t think you did it, man. He specifically told the police that’s not your style, okay?” Rylan clicked the convertible unlocked and tossed his backpack on the passenger seat before moving around to the driver’s side. “You’re in the clear.”

Lance waited until he climbed into the car and walked over, looking down at him with a faint curl to his lip. “You’ll never keep him, you know.”

He paused, as if waiting for Rylan to say something, and when he didn’t, Lance went on, “Scott has a real knack for making you feel special, like you matter. And for a while, you’re on top of the world. On his arm at the club, all the other dudes envying what a lucky fuck you are, wishing they were you.”

Lance ran his hands over the doorframe of the convertible, the motions almost wistful, as if he was petting it. “Having Scott’s attention is—it’s a rush, a high. Gets addicting real quick, until he’s all you can think about. Until you’ve convinced yourself maybe you’re the one.”

He tightened his grip on the car, knuckles whitening. “People warned me, though. Told me Scott ain’t nothin’ but a fuckboy, a player. But when you’re floating on that high, man, you don’t listen. You feel smug, like those other assholes just don’t get it. Things are great, until one day you wake up and he’s acting distant, pulling away, and you wonder what the fuck you did wrong. You try everything you can think of to make him happy, to get back that high, but the more you try to hold on to him, the more he pulls away.

“Until boom…he cuts you loose, and you realize he never gave two shits about you in the first place.”

Lance tapped his fist lightly on the doorframe before stepping away. “Well, all I can say is enjoy it while it lasts, buttercup. Come find me after he stomps your heart to dust, and we can talk about whether that fuckin’ high you’re feeling right now was worth all the pain.”

He touched two fingers to his forehead in a mocking salute, and Rylan watched him walk up the pedestrian ramp and disappear out into the bright sunshine. Sighing, Rylan started the car and eased out of the parking garage onto the busy street, heading toward his place.

As he drove, he thought about the look in Lance’s eyes, the whiteness around his lips. The dude was obviously hurting, nursing a serious broken heart, although it was hard to feel sorry for a guy who was more worried about what Scott was saying about him than how he was doing. Not once had he asked if Scott was okay.

It didn’t take long for Rylan to grab the essentials from his apartment, and on his way out, he stopped and knocked at Val and Katey’s door. Val answered it, taking in Rylan’s suitcase and laptop bag with a raised eyebrow. “Going somewhere, love?”

Rylan nodded. “You heard about what happened to Scott?”

“Yeah, awful stuff. How is he?”

Rylan quickly explained what was going on with the broken jaw and the fixation, saying, “I thought I’d stay with him for a few days, help him out until he gets to feeling better.”

Val leaned against the doorjamb and crossed her arms. “That’s nice of you, Ry, since I’m sure he could use a friend right about now. Want us to keep an eye on your place while you’re gone?”

“You read my mind, and I didn’t even have to ask.” He pecked her on the cheek. “Thanks. You guys are the best.”

“You got it.” Val paused. “Hey, you know Scott’s not my favorite person, but—”

“But what?”

She hesitated a moment longer. “There’s a lot of trolling shit being posted on social media right now. I—just be warned, and maybe try to keep him away from it if you can. At least until he’s feeling better.” Val ran her hand over her scarred arm. “I know how words can hurt when you’re already down, feeling vulnerable. People can be cruel, disgusting assholes, and I don’t wish that on anyone, even Scott.”

They said their good-byes. Rylan made his way to the convertible and stowed his bags in the backseat before pulling out his phone. He opened the club’s Instagram account, and the first picture was one of Scott on the ground, surrounded by emergency personnel. It bore the caption, “One of our own, a vital part of our Spectrum family, badly hurt tonight. Thoughts and prayers for Scott appreciated!”

Rylan swiped through the comments, seeing that the majority wished him well, sending hugs and kisses, along with a few offers to come ‘take his mind off things’ any time he wanted.

Then one comment jumped out at him. Hey @MCSquared, @ScottyA got him a broken face. Heard he’s ugly now!

Rylan ground his teeth together as he read through the gleeful responses:

I’d still fuck him! Just put a bag over his head and he’s good to go.

Nobody wants to see a deformed underwear model, @MCSquared! Tell @ScottyA to stay home!

Who fucked with the fuckboy? Tell me so I can give the dude a gold star!

Couldn’t have happened to a nicer asshole!

Rylan tossed his phone to the passenger seat with a curse. Jesus Christ. He turned the car on and drove back to Scott’s condo, and when he unlocked the door and went inside, he was surprised to see Corey and Scott sitting in the living room. Well, Corey was sitting, and Scott was half sitting, half lying, his face deathly pale, making the bruises look even more livid.

“Hey, Corey,” Rylan said. “What are you doing here?”

Corey looked pale, too. “Just, uh, wanted to check on my boy. So many rumors flying around. I had to see for myself so I had something to tell MC₂ when they start asking.” He paused before saying with difficulty, “Obviously the trip to Miami is out of the question.”

“I’m sorry, Corey,” Scott mumbled. “I—”