Page 17 of See My Words

Scott shrugged, and Rylan reached out and threaded their fingers together. “The camera doesn’t lie, Scott. Let me show you.” He turned to walk out of the room, tugging Scott after him and making a quick stop to snag his camera from the couch before leading him to the balcony.

The sun was low in the sky now, bathing everything around them in a soft, golden glow.

The camera whirred, and Rylan glanced at the screen, making a few quick adjustments before starting to shoot in earnest. Scott lost himself in Rylan’s quiet directions, first leaning back against the railing and then turning to prop his elbows on it while he gazed into the distance.

“Here, come see.” Rylan beckoned to him, and Scott walked over to gaze down at the digital screen in awe. The waning light kissed his face, throwing his cheekbones into sharp relief, the light scruff on his chin emphasizing his full lips. The soft green of his T-shirt reflected the fading radiance of the sun and made his eyes stand out like jewels.

“No filter, Scott. Just you. And you’re fucking gorgeous.”

Scott quirked his lips in a rueful smile. “You probably think I’m the vainest son of a bitch you’ve ever met, don’t you?”

“Never. There’s nothing wrong with needing some reassurance, especially after the trauma you’ve been through.” Rylan held up the camera. “I can tell you you’re beautiful, but sometimes you just have to see the words. See what I see.”

The lump in Scott’s throat threatened to choke him. “Sweet Ry,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

They smiled at each other, and Scott leaned in. Rylan lifted his face for the kiss, his lips parted, but Scott turned his head so his mouth grazed Rylan’s temple instead.

“Let’s go to the club.”

Chapter Four

THIS IS A HUGE MISTAKE.

Scott wandered along the edge of the dance floor, watching the young, exuberant crowd, mostly college kids trickling home for the summer from wherever they’d been off going to school. No one was paying any attention to Scott, and for somebody used to being the center of attention, it felt a little surreal.

He completed his second circuit of the room and made his way to the bar, where he perched on an empty stool. Even though his facial bruises and swelling had long since healed, it hadn’t been a good idea to come out tonight, not when he couldn’t do anything but give tight, closemouthed smiles, or speak in the muffled voice some people had a hard time understanding. Add in his dumpy, loose clothes, and Scott felt…ordinary, practically invisible.

He didn’t like it one bit.

“Hey, man.” Bobby, the bartender, slid him a frosty mug of beer without being asked. “Good to see you back.”

Scott accepted the mug with a nod of thanks. “Good to be back,” he lied, and Bobby propped his elbows on the counter with a companionable air.

“You’ve really been missed,” he confided, “although Pete’s turned out to be a fantastic host. Nobody thought he could do it, but he’s been packin’ the house every weekend.”

Scott didn’t quite know what to say to that. So I’m replaceable. Great?

“Whoops, gotta go.” Some customers down the bar were waving for Bobby’s attention, and he threw Scott a quick good-bye salute before hurrying off to serve them.

Scott picked up his beer and immediately put it down again. The last thing he wanted to do was wear it down his front, which is what would happen if he tried to drink it without a straw, and no way was he gonna sit here slurping beer like a child with a sippy cup.

He shoved the beer away, spinning around on the stool to stare moodily out at the dance floor, a sudden frisson of unease slithering down his spine. Was the asshole who assaulted him here somewhere? Was he watching Scott right now, savoring the memory of the moment he had struck him down? Had he said something right before he did it, something Scott heard but didn’t remember?

Those macabre thoughts drove Scott from his perch, and he wandered restlessly around the crowded, chaotic room, searching people’s faces, checking to see if anyone was looking at him funny. He gave a disgusted snort. Paranoid much? It was just another thing to be fucking bitter about, that the place he’d come to consider home, his safe place, now felt like anything but.

Somebody brushed against him from behind, and Scott whirled around, fists raised.

“Whoa, dude, sorry,” a kid exclaimed, putting his hands up and backing away. “Crowd is insane. Didn’t mean to bump you.”

Scott lowered his own hands, the humiliation now swirling through him adding to the anxiety that was making his heart pound, his jaw throb. He took deep breaths as best he could through his nose, wishing he could open his mouth and take in the deep pulls of oxygen he so desperately needed.

Can’t. Breathe.

Panic started to claw at him. If someone attacked him right now, he wouldn’t be able to fight back. He couldn’t take in enough air, and the weeks-long lack of solid food made him weak. He was so exposed…

Lights started to flash at the edge of Scott’s vision, and he looked around wildly, needing an escape route…needing a weapon…needing—

“Hey, baby. You okay?”