by Christi Snow
Then he kissed him.
Stig let out a small sob as he sank into the kiss, delving his tongue into Ryder’s mouth and wrapping his arms around Ryder like he never planned to let him go again.
As tempting as it was to fool himself, Ryder knew they hadn’t nearly covered everything they needed to talk about yet. Instead of following the kiss on its current path, he pulled out of it and gently took a step back.
Stig panted and watched warily.
“You’re here now. Does that mean they caught him?”
“No, I snuck out of my hotel in a disguise. If he was watching, he wouldn’t have known it was me.”
“I still don’t get it. Why are you here? You’re in danger. Why aren’t you surrounded by security personnel? I know you can afford to hire bodyguards.” A thought occurred to Ryder that had him stepping back and putting a few feet between them. “Wait a minute. Do you want him to hurt you?” Stig wouldn’t have been playing at BDSM in the first place if he didn’t enjoy the pain at least on one level.
“What? No!”
“Then I don’t get it.” Why would Stig endanger himself by being in public as a target? He should be holed up, hiding somewhere. “I’m not your responsibility anymore, Stig. In fact, I never was. I’m a grown-ass man.”
Ryder’s phone rang, and he scowled at it. But the caller ID said Dr. Sturgarten. This might be a call with information about Cari, so he answered it. “Hello?”
“Hello, this is Doctor Sturgarten’s office. I’m calling about Ryder Garrett.”
He frowned and looked at Stig. “This is he, but I don’t know a Dr. Sturgarten.”
Stig’s eyes widened, and he whispered, “He’s the brain trauma specialist in St. Louis.”
“I’m sorry,” Ryder corrected remembering Stig had mentioned something about that earlier. “Yes, Dr. Sturgarten. What can I do for you?”
The woman hesitated a moment and then said, “It looks like we’ve been communicating through your medical advocate while you were ill over the last week. Are you feeling better?”
“Yes, thank you.” Ryder had no idea where this was going. What kind of plan Cari and Stig had concocted with this doctor while he’d been incapacitated? “What can I do for you?”
“Well, we’ve had the most unusual circumstance occur. As we told your representative, new appointments are very difficult to come by, but with the holidays, we’ve just had a last minute cancellation and wondered if you’d like to take it? The appointment is for Wednesday. We’d need you in St. Louis by eight AM.”
“Wednesday? As in two days from now?” There was no way. He didn’t even know what this supposed treatment entailed. Everything was already too out of control.
Ryder slumped against the counter as Stig’s eyes widened and his face got very animated. He mouthed, “take it.”
Ryder really wanted to ignore that plea, but the hope in Stig’s gaze was hard to miss. He had no idea what promises this “miracle” doctor had offered, but from the hopeful look on Stig’s face, he’d promised great things.
Ryder sighed internally. Was this new promise of health the real reason behind Stig’s complete turn-around about wanting to be with him? He wanted to lie to himself about that possibility, but the timing of this all was very suspicious.
“I’m sorry,” Ryder said. “Is there any way I can call you back to let you know?”
“Um...” She sounded stunned at the request. “It’s just that appointments with Dr. Sturgarten are very hard to get, and Mr. Minton sounded desperate to get you in to see him. He was quite adamant about the fact.”
Ryder closed his eyes. That’s what he’d been afraid of. Somehow, somewhere, Stig had gotten it in his mind that he could become healthy again. It had been eight years. There was no cure for his permanently faulty brain. Not anymore.
“I understand,” he told her. “I promise to call you back within thirty minutes with my answer. Can you hold the appointment that long?”
“Well...yes,” she said slowly. “But anything beyond that, I’ll call one of our other patients.”
“Thank you. I’ll call you right back.” Ryder hung up the phone.
“What are you doing?” Stig circled Ryder. “Call her back right now and take that appointment.”
Ryder’s heart shattered.
Stig wanted a healthy man in his life. Ryder couldn’t blame him for that. Hell, if he had the choice, he would choose healthy, too. But that choice had been stolen from him at a high school football game many years before. This was his life, and the sooner Stig realized that, the sooner he could let go and move on with his life. But he had to try to make Stig understand one more time.
“Stig, this isn’t going to work. I have brain damage. That’s a fact of my life. There is no miracle cure at this point.”
“Ry, please, just try. For me.”
Ryder knew enough about the cycle of hope and disappointment to know that the best way to shut hope down was an eye-opening dose of reality. Stig hadn’t dealt with that yet, but Ryder was very aware of what the promise of a new treatment had in store for him...blistering pain and disappointment after having such high hopes dashed. He could go to this appointment for Stig, so he could hear the truth from a medical standpoint and maybe accept that this was Ryder’s life. Then Stig could accept that Ryder would never be whole, move on, and Ryder could pick up the pieces of his shattered heart.
Hope was for fools. Once upon a time, he’d been one of those. Not anymore.
He blew out a sigh. “Okay, I’ll call her back and take the appointment. But Stig, this is who I am. I can’t be fixed. Not anymore. After you realize that, I need you to let it go and move on. I can’t keep doing this. We can be friends, but that’s all we need to be from here on out.”
Stig’s gaze flew up to his. Shock and pain radiated from his sloped shoulders, but he simply nodded and whispered, “Hope.” He grabbed Ryder’s hand, and the touch sent a vibration of need and heartbreak through him.
This was the beginning of the end of them.
Stig might have hope, but Ryder had reality. That was the much more powerful element, and there was no escape from it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Stig
Stig glanced across the cab of the truck. Ryder’s eyes were closed to the bright sunlight coming through the windshield as he listened to the audiobook on Stig’s iPod written by the author who had undergone this treatment. They’d been on the road for over four hours, and Ryder had barely said four words during that entire time.
He had been too quiet in the aftermath of the phone call. Stig had expected some sort of excitement or enthusiasm, but Ryder had barely shown any reaction at all besides resignation.
It felt wrong. This was not the Ryder he’d come to know over the last few weeks. Yes, Ryder had his ups and downs, but he almost always had a ready smile no matter what was going on and a resilience that Stig admired. Right now, he was quiet, stoic, withdrawn. The only time Stig had seen a waver in the face of that implacable attitude was when Ryder had caught a glimpse inside his studio at the piles of finished canvasses, proving just how out of it he’d been during the last week. When he’d turned from that doorway, the devastation had shown in every stress-filled line on his face.
Stig knew this treatment held the key for fixing things for Ryder, but right now, it didn’t look like Ryder agreed. Hopefully, a bad attitude wouldn’t affect the success or failure of it. If it did, then they might as well turn around and go back to Denver now.
An hour later, Stig had gone far enough...with both the dead silence in the cab from his passenger and the emptiness of the winter fields zooming by outside the truck. A sign on the interstate proclaimed the next town worthy of a visit. He didn’t care. He just needed out of the vehicle for a while, so he whipped the truck onto the off-ramp.
Ryder sat up, suddenly alarmed. “What’s wrong?”
They’d just gotten gas about thirty miles back, so they didn’t have any other reason to s
top besides to keep Stig from going insane inside the dead quiet of the truck.
“I need to stretch my legs. Carson, Kansas sounds like a good place to do it.”
Ryder flashed him a worried glance, but he didn’t object.
The town was about five miles south of the interstate. The sign at the city limits boasted a population of 1,504. More than he’d expected, so maybe there would be someplace to stop besides just a lone gas station.
They rounded the curve coming into town, and Ryder gasped. “It’s like a postcard.”
They exchanged a look of surprise, and for the first time all day, something loosened in Stig’s chest. Maybe everything would be okay.
The town had been built around a square of grass and trees, featuring an old courthouse, complete with clock tower and huge, bare-branched cottonwood trees that surrounded the large building. After a quick appraisal of the downtown, Stig pulled into one of the angled parking spots to the side of the courthouse.
He’d barely turned off the truck before Ryder reached into the backseat, scrambling to pull out his camera gear. “I have to get some photos here.”
Stig grinned at Ryder’s first real show of excitement. It was so different from the way he’d been for the last few hours. This was the guy he’d fallen for.
The sidewalk that encircled the red stone courthouse was the perfect setting for the old-fashioned black lanterns on poles that ran along the concrete path. On the opposite sides of the street, a menagerie of small shops dotted the landscape around the square. While this town may not have many people living in it, its downtown appeared to be thriving. The temperatures were moderate for early December, so there were quite a few people milling around. There were even a few picnickers on the courthouse lawn.
It was so picturesque and perfect. This was the escape they needed right now.
Stig spotted a small diner across the square.
Ryder gazed through his viewfinder on his camera, already setting up his tripod to focus on the courthouse.
“Hey, Ry, what kind of pie do you like?”
Ryder glanced up with a confused look on his face.
Stig nodded at the diner. “I thought I’d grab us something, and we could take advantage of a picnic table.”
Ryder’s face broke out in a huge grin. “Yeah, sounds good. Cherry pie with vanilla ice cream on top if they have it.” He began to dig in his pocket for his wallet.
Stig waved him off “I got it. You paid for gas at our last stop.” He glanced around the quiet little square. “You’ll be okay?” When they’d left Denver, they’d also left the bodyguard Stig had hired to keep an eye over Ryder, so they were on their own out here.
“Yeah, I’m good. Just want to get some shots while I can.” Then Ryder turned and focused on the image in his shutter.
For a moment, Stig stood and reveled in being able to watch Ryder. This version of him—strong and capable—was so damn sexy. The difference between where he’d been physically yesterday versus today was huge. He hardly had a limp right now. That was why Stig thought this treatment had hope for Ryder. Overall, he was physically capable. It was just when his brain decided to glitch that he couldn’t function. This treatment adjusted the way the brain accepted the information coming into it.
It had to work for him—for them—so Ryder could believe in their future.
Stig jaywalked across the street to the diner. A bell above the door jingled as he entered. The place had a handful of tables and an old fashioned counter with rotating metal stools bolted to the ground. The wood floors and painted tin ceiling said that the diner had probably been here longer than Stig had been alive. The few guests glanced up at him disinterestedly before refocusing on their meals.
“You can have a seat anywhere,” a guy from behind the counter called.
“Actually.” Stig stepped to the counter where the guy was refilling the salt and pepper shakers. “I hoped I could get something to go. It’s such a nice day. I wanted to eat across the street at one of the picnic tables outside the courthouse.”
“Sure thing. I’m Manny.” The middle-aged guy with his ball cap on backward gave him a friendly smile as he passed him a plastic-covered menu. “Here’s a menu. Unless you know what you want?”
Stig glanced around but didn’t see any kind of bakery case. “Do you carry pie?”
“What kind of diner would we be without pie?” The guy tapped the menu in Stig’s hand. “Of course we do. The full list is on the back.”
Stig glanced through the list. “Can I get a piece of cherry with vanilla ice cream on top and...” He considered the wonderful array of choices. “How about a piece of chocolate meringue?”
“No problem.” The guy wrote their order onto a small notepad and then stepped over to the window between the counter and kitchen. He stuck the page to the spinning wheel that sent it around to the kitchen. “Order up, Sal. To go.”
There was a feminine noise of acknowledgement from the kitchen. Manny gestured Stig over to the cash register. “Are you just passing through?”
“Yeah, I couldn’t look at one more brown field, so we had to stop. I think it was a good choice. You have a nice little town here.”
The guy laughed. “Thanks. You would be surprised at just how much of our pass-through traffic is because of that very reason. Who knew that boring fields could work as a marketing ploy?” He broke out in a huge fake smile that looked exactly like the car salesmen in those cheesy commercials on TV. “Come to Carson. We promise we aren’t as boring as the fields you’ve seen for the last hundred miles.”
Stig laughed. “It could be an all new tourist marketing plan. I can see it.” He nodded and then waved out to the square. “I had no idea this kind of picturesque beauty could be just a few miles off the interstate in the middle of Kansas. I’m going to have to drag my friend out of here.” He gestured to where Ryder stood by the street, taking photos of what looked to be an original hitching post.
Manny’s eyebrows rose. “He looks like a pro. Does he work for a magazine?”
“No, just a really talented guy with a passion.” Stig’s heart clutched as he watched Ryder twist to get another shot. That passion was so damn sexy.
“Someone’s smitten.”
Stig looked up at Manny in surprise. He wasn’t sure why, but he hadn’t expected a small rural town like this to be that accepting. He shrugged. “Yeah. He’s a pretty incredible guy.”
Manny nodded. “Well, if you enjoy the pieces of pie and find you can’t manage to pull yourself away from our little burg,” he said as he handed Stig the bagged up food and water, “there’s a great bed and breakfast run by Sal’s brother and his husband right around the corner on Third Street. It’s a great big, old Victorian with blue and green trim. The Peacock. You can’t miss it.”
“Thanks, I appreciate the tip.”
“Also, if your friend’s artistic...have him check out the gallery on the corner.” Manny pointed toward the corner on the other side of the courthouse. “I’m probably biased because she’s my daughter-in-law, but Staci creates some of the most interesting and beautiful paintings you’ve ever seen. She’s really good; just don’t tell her I said so. We can’t have her getting a big head and thinking she’s too good for small-town living. Daniel—he’s my son—would be lost without her.”
“We’ll definitely stop in over there.” He took every opportunity he could to find new artists. Although this probably wasn’t a lead worthy of Minton Galleries, he’d found amazing artists in more surprising places than a small town in the middle of nowhere Kansas. “But don’t worry. I’ll definitely keep your confidence. I owe you for all the insider’s info.” He picked up the bag, and with a wave, pushed out the door of the diner.
Once outside, he stretched his back. This weather was incredibly mild for December. Hell, a lot of the time they were already dealing with blizzards in this area of the country. But these kinds of mild temperatures usually meant that something horrendous like that was on its
way in tomorrow. That’s why they needed to enjoy it while they could.
He scanned the square, but didn’t see Ryder. His heart began to race, but just as he was about to blast into full-out panic, he caught a glimpse of Ryder’s blond hair at the opposite corner of the courthouse. He checked for traffic and then jogged across the street.
Ryder appeared to be focusing on some carved details around the top of the columns. He should have asked Manny how old the courthouse was. He would guess it dated back to before the turn of the twentieth century.
As he rounded the corner of the courthouse, Ryder looked up at him and smiled. Stig held up the bag and pointed toward an empty picnic table halfway between the two of them. Ryder lifted a single finger and then went back to looking through his viewfinder.
Stig shook his head. Ryder would just have to deal with soggy pie after his ice cream melted all over it. But honestly, Stig would be okay just sitting and watching Ryder work the rest of the afternoon. It actually sounded like a little slice of heaven. Forget the pie for his afternoon treat.
Ten minutes later, Ryder finally joined him at the table.
“You get any good shots?” Stig asked.
“Yeah, the architecture here is amazing. I’d love to be around to take some photos in the morning during sunrise. If I could catch that clock tower just right, the light could be incredible.”
“Well, we only planned to drive another hour today.” The drive between Denver and St. Louis was twelve hours if they didn’t run into any traffic snarls. It could be done in a single day, but they’d decided to split it up just so Ryder would be in decent physical and mental shape when they arrived.
“The guy at the diner said there’s a bed and breakfast just off the square owned by a gay couple that’s worth staying at. He also mentioned that the gallery over there”—Stig nodded toward the modern gallery storefront—“has some great art. I’d definitely like to check it out. What do you think? Want to stay here for the night instead of going on?”
Ryder’s eyes lit up. “You’d be okay with that?”
“Definitely.” Hell, if it earned him that ecstatic look every time, he’d do whatever Ryder wanted all day, every day.