Guarding January Read Free

and a quarter. How much had Ms. Heard said he’d gained in rehab? How much had he lost in the last few days?
    Rye should have done this sooner.
    He ignored LJ, kept carrying him down the stairs.
    As soon as they left his quarters, LJ went stiff, silent. The bigger part of the house had been party central, and Rye had flushed everyone out, had the place cleaned top to bottom, made sure there weren’t drugs or booze anywhere.
    It was quiet, almost echoing, as he moved into the huge great room, with its floor-to-ceiling windows. He kept going, heading for the pool. He knew there were towels out there and had no qualms over what he was about to do.
    The place was a shrine to decadence, to excess, and LJ didn’t look at anything, just hid in his hoodie, his baggy clothes.
    “Pool,” Rye said, as he went out into the huge backyard with its enormous pool set into the place to look like a pond.
    “Very nice. I want to go in.”
    “Exactly, you’re going in. We both are.”
    “No. Inside. I want to go back inside.”
    “No, the pool, a bit of fresh air. If I put you down, will you strip or run?”
    “I don’t want to get wet. I want to go inside. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
    “You’re not living, LJ. You’re just… fading away, and I gave my word I wouldn’t let you go.” With that, he dumped LJ into the water.
    LJ flailed, fighting with the heavy, too-big clothes for a second before just going limp and sinking to the bottom.
    Jesus Christ.
    Rye took off his shoes and jumped in after LJ.
    Stupid little fuck.
    He grabbed at the hoodie, but LJ slipped away, leaving him holding the fabric. Growling, he let the hoodie go and grabbed for LJ.
    The little bastard was quick, scrambling up the stairs and running for the house.
    After jumping out, Rye gave chase, grabbing LJ just before he got to the door. He pulled the kid up against his body. Skin and bones, that’s what LJ was.
    “Let me go! Let me go! I haven’t done anything bad!” LJ struggled against Rye, fists battering at him.
    This was more life than Rye’d seen out of the kid since he’d picked him up, and he simply held LJ, let the kid work the anger out.
    It didn’t last long—it couldn’t, LJ wasn’t eating—and then the kid just passed out, pale as milk.
    Christ.
    Fucking Christ.
    Rye laid LJ down on a deck chair and grabbed a thick towel from the little cabana. Then he stripped LJ quickly and dried him off.
    LJ finally came back to. “I… I want to go back.”
    “Back where?” Rye looked into that pale, pinched face.
    “I want to go back to the hospital.”
    “You have a life to live.” A tour that started in less than two months.
    “I want to go back.”
    “It doesn’t work that way, LJ. You know that.”
    He wrapped the kid in the towel, but didn’t bring him back upstairs yet. LJ curled into a tiny ball, almost disappearing under the towel. Acting on instinct, Rye grabbed LJ and tugged him against his body.
    “I don’t—” The too-skinny body just shuddered.
    “Shh. Shh. Just warming you up, okay?” He needed to get heat and food and water into LJ, needed to. He gathered LJ up again. “Kitchen. Food. We’ll get something in you.”
    “N-n-not hungry.”
    “Too bad. Your body is starving to death, and if I let you die from malnutrition, your manager is going to hunt me down and carve me up.”
    “Not hungry.”
    Stubborn boy. “I got that. You’re still eating.” Maybe a milkshake. There was ice cream in the freezer, milk in the fridge. Fresh berries. Oh, that would make a great smoothie.
    Once they were in the kitchen, he sat his towel-wrapped burden down.
    LJ looked around the room, wide-eyed. “It’s bigger than I remember.”
    “When was the last time you were in here?” Rye took some bread out to make a couple of sandwiches and buttered them.
    “Long time. I don’t cook.”
    Or eat, apparently. “No? I like it.” Cooking was easy, and then you knew what you were putting in your mouth. He pulled tomatoes,