Page 209 of Power Play

“Good.”

He returned to packing as if the conversation were settled. I watched him fold another shirt before my attention shifted toward the books lining his wall.

“Ryan.”

“Yeah?”

“What if I need your books?”

He looked over his shoulder like I had asked whether I was allowed to breathe his air. “Then use my books.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

“Even the ones on the top shelf?”

“All of them, Charm.”

“You barely let people touch some of those.”

He zipped one side of his bag and straightened. “You’re still doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Calling yourself people.”

I smiled despite the ache the words created. Ryan came back to the bed and leaned down until his hands were braced on either side of my legs.

“My books are your books, mi hada.”

Something inside me squeezed.

He had told me enough about books that I knew exactly what he was giving me. Books had followed him through places people hadn’t. Knowledge had belonged to him when almost nothing else did. Some of the battered copies had survived foster homes, nights spent sleeping wherever he could, college, hockey, Flint, and every version of his life that existed before I knew him.

“You mean that?”

His expression softened. “I don’t say shit I don’t mean to you.”

I reached up and straightened the cap that had shifted crooked while he kissed me. Ryan held still beneath my fingers.

“You do that when you’re anxious.”

“I’m fixing your questionable fashion choices.”

“It was fine.”

“It was crooked.”

“So?”

“Now it isn’t.”

He caught my wrist before I could lower my hand. “You worried about Klein or Wednesday?”

“Yes.”

“That wasn’t multiple choice.”