Ryan Hunter

living room chimed nine o’clock. I was careful not to make a sound when I shut the door, but my mom certainly had heard my car coming home. There was no escaping her worried inquisition.
    “Ryan, darling, where have you been?”
    I knew it was bad when she called me darling. It always indicated she’d been worried sick about me. She cupped my cheeks and made me look down at her face. “Good gracious! What happened? Did you have an accident?” Then she sucked in a sharp breath. “Or did you get in a fight?”
    Taking her hands in mine, I pulled them gently away from my face. “Nothing happened, Mom. I’m all right.” As all right as one could be with his heart ripped from his chest and trampled on. “No car crash, no fight.” Not a real one anyway. “I’m not hurt, just tired.”
    “But something must have—”
    “Please, Mom. I don’t want to talk right now.” I must have sounded whiny and aching. Pathetic.
    For a stunned mother-son moment, she gazed at my pleading, misty eyes, and it seemed to be enough for her to understand. Everything. “All right, darling. You go up and get into bed. I’ll bring you a cup of hot chocolate.”
    I drank coffee in the morning, and she knew it. But I wouldn’t be surprised if there was going to be a marshmallow in the hot chocolate, too. Dragging myself up the stairs was more exhausting than driving the eighty miles home with only one eye open. I kicked my shoes into the corner and stripped down to my boxers on the way into the bathroom. In front of the shower, that last bit dropped too, and I stepped into the cubicle with a hot spray of water raining down on me. Bracing my palms on the tiled wall, I hung my head, breathing hard into the gush of water. This was the only time that I’d ever let go of the tears that had choked me the whole night, because the evidence of them would be washed away in the shower.
    Half an hour passed, and the rain never stopped. I didn’t want to get out of the shower. I’d stay here for as long as my heart was aching like it was clamped in a bear trap. My hands fisted against the tiles, and I pressed my forehead on them. How could my life ever be normal again?
    By the time I finally turned off the water, I feared I’d fall asleep standing up. Feebly, I toweled myself dry then wrapped that towel around my hips and shuffled back to my room where I pulled on shorts and a tee. On my nightstand, I found the promised cup of hot chocolate, which had turned cold by now. I didn’t care, because I had no intention of drinking it anyway.
    Hot chocolate might help if you were sick or sad because your favorite hamster died. But I didn’t see what it could do to mend a broken heart. Dumping headfirst into my pillow, I left the rest of the world behind me and hoped to just drift off to oblivious dre ams.
    I did. But when I woke up again, I realized I’d hardly been knocked out long enough for my hair to dry after the shower. Rolling on my back, I started to stare at the ceiling…and stopped two hours later where there was a soft knock on my door.
    My mom slipped her head in silently enough not to wake me if I was asleep. When she saw me wide-awake, she said softly, “Your dad and I are going to eat lunch in a minute. Don’t you want to come down?”
    “I’m not hungry,” I told her, hoping she would get the hint and leave me alone.
    But she came in anyway and sat down beside me then stroked a gentle hand through my hair. “What happened, darling? Was it about a girl?”
    Closing my eyes, I let her caress me, struggling not to grimace for her sake. “Seriously, Mom, I don’t want to talk about it.” My throat ached when I spoke, and I pressed my lips together to stop them from trembling. Maybe I was going to tell her one day about last night. But not now, when I could hardly keep myself together.
    Jezebel Hunter gave me one of her understanding nods. “I’m here when you need me.” Then she left my room on silent feet.
    Moving my gaze back to the ceiling, I tried to figure out what I had done to screw it with Liza. I’d been careful, I’d been considerate, I’d been waiting for ages. But maybe that was the whole mistake? Maybe she’d have realized how much she really means to me if I’d been upfront with her from the start. She wouldn’t think of me playing a stupid game with her now. And she wouldn’t have cast me out of her life.
    I never want to see you again.
    I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, fighting to