Guarding January Read Free Page B

smarter, happier.
    “They’ve got some pretty severe side effects. Not to mention they’re illegal.” Rye smiled, taking out the sting of the words.
    “Yeah. They stopped my heart. It was great.” What did he care about illegal?
    Rye snorted but let the subject drop. “Eat. Take the sandwich apart and have the bits you want if the whole sandwich is too intimidating.”
    He looked at the food. “I need a cigarette.”
    “No, you need food.” Rye had a stubborn set to his jaw.
    “I don’t want to eat.” He’d eaten in rehab, tons of protein shakes at first, then mashed potatoes, scrambled eggs.
    “Too bad. Eat. If you give me a list of the foods you like best, I’ll have Brigitte start stocking the fridge. But you have to eat.”
    “Or what?” He took a deep drink of water, letting it fill him.
    “I’m not going to leave you be until you do.”
    “Okay.” He was exceptional at being lost in his own brain.
    “No, it’s not okay. You are going to die, and then your manager is going to kill me. I’m very fond of living.”
    “Donna is a sweet old lady.” Sort of like Elizabeth Bathory had been at the end….
    That earned him another snort. “Right. Like the sun is a little hot.”
    That actually made him chuckle. “When is she coming to see me?”
    “Have you invited her?”
    “No. I haven’t called anyone.” He grabbed his phone, dialing “Mom.”
    “Jeff? Is that actually you, honey?” Donna’s voice sounded just the same as he remembered.
    “Hey. Where are you?” Why haven’t you come?
    “Working. Are you doing okay?”
    “Like you aren’t getting reports.”
    “All I know is that you’re still alive.” Her voice was dry.
    “I am. Go me.” Suddenly all his adrenaline was gone, and all he wanted in the world was to sleep. “I need to go. I’m tired. Bye.”
    He stood up and headed inside, his feet feeling heavy, like his boots were filled with sand.
    His phone rang, but he ignored it.
    All of a sudden he was off his feet, Rye scooping him up and carrying him.
    “What are you doing?” He couldn’t handle anything else.
    “Carrying you up to your room before you fall down the stairs.”
    He fumbled with his phone, dialing Jim, even as Rye carried him. Please. Please answer.
    “Jim here.”
    “I want to come back.”
    “Oh, honey. You can’t live in stasis. You’re stronger than you think.”
    But he wasn’t.
    “What happened?” Jim asked.
    “Nothing. Nothing at all. I’m so tired.”
    “Have you been eating?”
    Rye set him down on the bed.
    “I’m not hungry.”
    “You gotta eat, honey. Taking care of yourself is part of the program.”
    “I’m not hungry, though. I’m too tired to eat.”
    “Honey, they’ll have to come in and put in an IV. They won’t bring you back here. They’ll put you in the psych ward.”
    He started to cry, silently, just lost and lonely and old.
    Rye took the phone out of his hand. “Who is this…? Yeah. I’m trying. I don’t want to force-feed him. Yeah, okay. I’ll tell him you said bye.”
    Sitting, Rye pulled him into the strong arms. “Shh. Shh.”
    Jeff sighed softly, tears sliding through his makeup. He cried for a long time before sleep took him again, offering him peace, silence.
    All the while, warm arms held him.
     
     
    R YE HELD the skinny body long after LJ was asleep. Then he called Brigitte and gave her a grocery list.
    He was glad he’d pulled the phone from LJ when the kid had started crying; the guy, Jim, had a bunch of solutions for getting nutrition into LJ—Jeff, actually. The sponsor had called LJ that. Interesting that someone called Jeff by his given name, because nobody else ever did.
    After hanging up the phone, Rye settled back in his chair and grabbed his tablet.
    A few hours later, Brigitte arrived, and he met her in the kitchen, helping her put away the groceries.
    Once she’d gone, he prepared a chocolate milkshake, added protein powder, and headed back upstairs.
    Jeff was dreaming,