Page 48 of Stroke Rate

The distinct sound of a chip bag being opened and a soft thud on the couch came through the phone, telling River that Brooke was getting comfortable to listen to the fucking shit show River’s life had been for the past two days. “Alright, lay it on me,” she said as she crunched loudly into River’s ear.

River whispered through the phone, scared that Chris would hear, not wanting to disturb him as he rested. “It's been two days, Brooke. He hasn't left the bed in two days.”

“River, he's been through a lot of shit. I still can’t wrap my head around what we walked into that night,” she choked. “Fuck, I shouldn't be eating while having this conversation. Sorry,” Brooke’s coughs reverberated, forcing River to move the phone from his ear. “I never knew.”

And River knew that, of course he did. Brooke would have protected Chris with all she had if she had known the extent of the abuse. “I know, Brooke, but he's despondent. Almost catatonic. He won't talk to me; he hasn't eaten or showered. I-I’m fucking dying here. I can't handle seeing him like this.”

Brooke sighed, “Okay, well.” She paused, crunching in River’s ear again; the crinkle of the bag and smacking of her mouth made him cringe. “I have only seen him like that once. He had a horrible breakup our freshman year. It took days to get him out of bed, but fresh air seemed to help? I don't know, River. Can you get him out of the house? Take him to the cabin?” She sounded almost wistful; maybe she was remembering all the fond memories with Coop at the cabin.

“Mmm,” River hummed. The cabin was a perfect idea. It was peaceful and secluded; there was the lake, and it was kind of…magical. Coop’s cabin, or rather River’s cabin now, was a magical place that always seemed to heal something inside River. Going there, taking Chris there, was a perfect plan. “I can do that.”

“Love you both. Good luck, and text me. Yeah?”

“Love you. I will.” River hung up and started packing for them both.

River sat on the edge of the bed, pushing the hair off Chris’ forehead, gently nudging him awake.

“Just leave me alone, Riv,” Chris grumbled, pushing ‌River’s hand away. “Leave, just go. I'm not worth it. Just tell me all the bad things, all the reasons this won’t work. Just get it over with. I’m tired, Riv. I’m so fucking tired. So if you aren’t going to stay, please tell me why and go.”

Chris said his piece and then curled back up in the bed, looking like a sad little barn kitten, as if he had hissed out the last of his energy and needed a nap.

“Up.”

“Wh-what?” he groaned with his face buried in his pillow. “I don’t want to. I’m too broken, and I’m going to pull you down with me. You deserve someone better. Just please.”

“Come on, up. We are leaving.”

“I’m tired, Riv, just go. I’ll be fine.” That was it. River couldn’t take it anymore; the sad, desolate little boy that had taken over Chris for the past two days was too much for River to bear.

Watching Chris sink to the bottom of the pool, worrying he wouldn’t surface, was scary enough. But this? This was too much for River. He couldn’t stand by and watch as he sank further into himself. Watch as his bright eyes turned dull and void of emotion. Watch as Chris deteriorated and slipped further and further away. River knew that Brainard Lake and the cabin could offer some solace, and he hoped it would mend parts of Chris’ soul. It was Coop’s favorite place in the entire world, and River just knew it would become Chris’ as well.

“I’m picking you up. I’m putting you in the car. We're leaving.” River scooped him up bridal-style. His poor boy was listless in his arms, and didn’t make a peep, just snuggled into River and let him do as he pleased. The car was packed; he had texted Brooke his plan, and grabbed Chris’ phone to send a quick text to Bran in case he was one to get worried.

There was no response from Chris, not even a grunt of acknowledgement, as River placed him in the car and buckled him, pulling the strap tight. Tight is safe, his brain said as he yanked one more time across the chest strap. River hadn’t been able to keep Coop and his kids safe, he hadn’t been able to keep Chris safe from his fucking family—but he could ensure Chris’ safety on their drive… he could at least do that right.

It was a perfect Colorado day as they wound their way up Left-Hand Canyon. The summer heat gave way to the crisp, breezy fall-like air as they gained altitude. The sun was out; the windows were open, and River felt a lightness he had not felt in quite a while.

As the miles fell behind them, River’s muscles relaxed, his jaw unclenched, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He glanced at Chris. He had his eyes ‌‌closed, head turned up, with his unruly blond mop whipping wildly around his face. The golden glow of midday shone on his face. So beautiful. He looked peaceful, more peaceful than he had looked in days. With that sight, the weight of River’s choice settled comfortably, confirming he had made the right one.

They needed to get out of that house; they needed to never go back. The two of them needed to figure out what they wanted to do and how they were going to move forward. River knew that leaving that house—leaving his pool—would break Chris’ heart, but they could not live there anymore. They needed to break ties with Chris’ family. River could no longer allow them to have any control over Chris ever again.

They could move in with Brooke? She had taken over the Lakewood house, River and Coop’s old house. There was ample space, but River refused to live there again. Maybe they could live at the cabin for a bit?

After the next race was over, they could see where the cards would land, and maybe they could live up there for a bit. “What are you thinking about?” Chris' sweet voice surprised River; he had thought he was asleep.

“Oh, just the cabin. I think you’re really going to love it. I think it will be healing for both of us.”

“Will you tell me about it?”

So River did. He told him the history of the area and how the land had been in Coop’s family forever. How the cabin belonged to Coop, a legacy from his grandfather; and upon his death, it passed to River. He told him of all the time they had spent there, making the place theirs, and the beautiful bathroom that they had renovated the summer before the accident. And then River told Chris about Coop. More than he ever had before. He told him of how they met and fell in love, about helping to raise Brooke, and the team and life he and Coop had built. And about the future they dreamed and planned for, but never had the chance to make it come to fruition. “Do you still want kids?” Chris asked once River had stopped talking.

He thought for a minute, not sure what or how much to say. “I do. I'd like to have children.”

“Hmm,” Chris hummed. “I-I always thought I didn't want kids. I raised my brothers, and that always seemed like enough. But I think...” Chris paused and bit his lip. “I think I'd like to be a dad. I think I'd like to see you as a dad,” he said, looking out the window. “You'll be an amazing father, Riv.”

River huffed and cleared the thickness gathering in his throat, choked by emotions he thought were long gone. Dead and buried alongside Coop. “You'll be a great dad, Chris,” he said as he squeezed Chris’ thigh. Through a side glance, he watched Chris swipe at his cheeks, and then felt Chris slot their fingers together and squeeze three times. Just like Coop and he used to do, just like Coop had done right before the accident. And even though Chris hadn't said it back yet, River knew. He knew Chris loved him, and that he would say it when he was ready.

“I hope so, Riv,” he whispered. “I hope so.”