Love Him Desperate (On the Market #5) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,86

his neck. “Don’t. It’s stupid, because it was right there in front of my face the entire time, but I guess it just didn’t occur to me that it would be him. He’s so much younger than you.”

Raphael felt his cheeks burn hot with both guilt and anger. “Listen, let me just get my things from your car…”

“Wait,” Rian said. He tried to grab him, but Raphael was able to step out of reach. “My feelings are hurt. I didn’t mean to sound like a dick.”

“Yes, you did,” Raphael countered. “You’re a good person, Rian. I fully believe this, and I think you’ll find someone who fits with you. But it’s not me.”

“I know.” Rian rubbed a hand down his face. “I have a lot to work on.”

“You’re not the only one.” Raphael moved toward the bench and eased himself down. “Someone will come along in a few minutes, and they’ll give me a ride. If you could just leave my bag…”

“Let me,” Rian started, but Raphael shook his head.

“It’s better if we end this right here. Don’t you think?” He looked at Rian, refusing to break their gaze, refusing to give in to his cowardice and pretend like none of this mattered to either of them. In truth, he’d been in the wrong. He’d used Rian to fill a hole that was entirely the wrong shape for him, and he’d spent all of this time ignoring the truth—that Dmitri loved him back.

He let his fear take over, control the moment, rob him of something that would have been so good. A year wasted on letting his past dictate his future, and Rian was hurt in the process. But that was changing. He’d give Dmitri a few days, let him put himself back together a little bit, let him cope. And then he’d find him. Whatever the outcome—whatever Dmitri was ready for, Raphael would accept it.

He just couldn’t live in this silence anymore.

Lorenzo found Raphael not more than five minutes after he watched Rian’s car pull out of the parking lot, and he leaned gently into the arms that came around him and held him tight. Wilder showed up not long after, pressing up against Raphael’s other side, and the baker took his hand, his burn-calloused fingers pressing into his skin.

When Lorenzo said he was going home with them, he didn’t put up a fight. He stared at his bag for a long time, then slung it over his shoulder before adjusting his crutches again, and they made their way to Wilder’s car long before anyone else left the party.

He was grateful to be spared any more scrutiny, and he was grateful that he worked in the salon rather than one of the more public jobs, because he knew it would be a while before all of it blew over. He was half waiting for the Sheriff to show up at Wilder’s door the next day to take him in for assault, but by the mid-afternoon, he started to relax from his little nest Lorenzo had created for him on the couch.

“Here,” his friend said, handing over some soup. “It’s my mom’s recipe, but I took out the noodles and added extra chicken and carrots.”

Raphael offered him a slight smile, sipping on the broth which had almost no salt, but rich with spices and it soothed him more than he expected it to. “I’m going to have to go find him, you know.”

“Yes.” Lorenzo swirled his soup around with his spoon, not looking up at his friend. “Rocco texted and said that Charlie spent the rest of the night sitting in the corner of the room looking like he wanted to set something on fire.”

Raphael winced. “I shouldn’t have punched him.”

At that, Lorenzo snorted. “No. You should have hit him in the fucking balls with your crutches. Charlie wasn’t upset because you hit him. He’s upset that he hired a guy like that.”

A rapist, Raphael thought. He’d walked in on the scene early, but there was no telling what Kyle would have done—and there was no knowing what he already had put Dmitri through before anyone got there. He felt a ball of fiery rage in his gut when he thought about Kyle’s last words before James hauled him out, and he felt the same way Lorenzo did. If he had the chance to do it again, he’d use more than a fist.

“Has anyone heard from him?” he asked after a bit.

Lorenzo shrugged. “You’d know better than me, babe. I