Oh hell, Ryan thought. This whole situation looked bad. He braced himself for the worst.

“He’s in there,” Matt’s voice said. “With Ryan.”

“What? Why?”

Ryan raised his head and saw Ginger appear in the doorway. He didn’t have a jacket on. Ryan knew

Ginger always left his jacket in the stairwell; he could just picture him flinging it over the bannister as

he’d raced up the stairs. Ginger’s hair was slightly bigger too, all tangled and windblown. Ryan loved

Ginger’s hair when it was a bit mussed like that. This isn’t helping. Ryan blinked, and tried to focus.

“Ryan?” Ginger approached the bed and stood over them. “What are you doing?” His chest rose and

fell as he took deep breaths, his cheeks flushed pink. Ryan wondered if he’d run here. In spite of the

situation, as he gazed up at Ginger, he couldn’t help think how beautiful the man looked. Golden

brown eyes locked with his, and that was all it took for Ryan’s hard on to swell once more.

Dammit.

“I...um...it wasn’t me, Daniel, he...um...”

Ginger looked from Ryan to Fizz, and back again. “What are you doing, Ryan?” he asked, irritation

lacing his voice. “Fizz, get up. What are you two playing at?”

Ryan swallowed, hoping his voice sounded normal. “He – I – I think he’s ill, Dan. Or drunk, or

taken a shit-load of E, or something.” His voice wavered, but he kept going. “He’s acting really weird,

and he gets upset if I move away, all right? So, like, I didn’t know what else to do!”

“Shit. Well, why?” Ginger knelt on the bed. The mattress shifted as it took his weight. “Fizz?” He

bent down to look at Fizz. Some of his long red hair slipped over his shoulder, brushing Ryan’s bare

arm. Ryan shivered at the contact, musing that this was one scenario he hadn’t envisioned when he’d

fantasised about Ginger on his bed.

“Jamie?” Ginger said more urgently. “Jamie, can you hear me?” He had one hand on the boy’s

throat, checking his pulse, the other hand turned Fizz’s face, then laid flat against his forehead. “He’s

not hot. Actually, he’s pretty cold.”

“That’s what I thought,” Ryan said. “He’s freezing.”

“Matt?” Ginger barked over his shoulder. “Do us a favour, and make some tea? Not all the way

boiled, just half hot, ready to drink. That might warm him up.”

“Sure,” Matt said, heading to the kitchen. Sammy followed him.

Ginger was still checking Fizz over, trying to get him to wake up. Fizz groaned, sleepily shoving at

Ginger’s hands as he snuggled into Ryan.

“Do you think he’s drunk?” Ryan asked.

“I don’t think so. I can’t smell alcohol on him. Did you say he’d taken something?”

“That was just a guess,” Ryan admitted. “I asked him, but couldn’t get any sense out of him.”

Something flashed in Ginger’s eyes, and he looked directly at Ryan. “Where’s Ash?”

Ryan felt a mixture of dread and fear wash through him, which succeeded in chasing away his hard

on. “I – I don’t know.”

“Fucker,” Ginger cursed. “What the hell has he done to Jamie?”

At the tone, Ryan flinched. He didn’t know what to do. He shivered against Fizz, who felt even

cooler than before.

The boy stirred. “Ash didn’t do anything.”

“What?” Ginger turned his attention to Fizz. “Jamie, what’s going on? What’s the matter with

you?”

“Pills.” Fizz breathed the word. His eyes were half lidded, looking up at Ginger. “It’s the pills.”

“Pills?” Ginger looked furious. “What pills? What have you taken, Jamie? Tell me!”

Fizz chuckled. “Pre-scrip-tion pills,” he annunciated slowly, his tone implying Ginger was stupid

for even asking.

“Prescription pills?” Ryan repeated. “You mean, your own ones?”

Fizz didn’t answer. He chuckled again and turned his face inwards, trying to plant a kiss on Ryan’s

mouth.

“Fizz, stop it.” Ryan moved his face away, conscious of the fact that Ginger was watching.

“Jamie.” Ginger tried to hold him still. “Jamie. What the hell? Have you taken the wrong dose or

something? Tell me what you’ve taken, dammit.”

“Mmm.” Fizz’s hands left Ryan and he sprang up, latching onto Ginger. Ryan watched in mute

shock as Fizz landed a full-lipped kiss on his own cousin. Ginger was momentarily stunned, then

grabbed the boy’s shoulders, shoving him back down on the bed. While they were distracted, Ryan

took the opportunity to escape, and carefully slid himself off the bed.

His head felt woozy as he stood up. He watched Fizz try to pull Ginger down on top of him, much

the same as he’d done to Ryan earlier. Ginger managed to prise himself free. He stood on the other

side of the bed, staring at Fizz with wide eyes, and a stark expression.

Ryan opened his mouth but words failed him. Ginger turned to him, glaring. “Get Ash on the

phone,” he snapped. “I want to talk to him, now.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Come on, come on,” Ryan uttered under his breath. He stood in the back bar, clutching the

telephone to his ear, growing more nervous with each unanswered ring. “Shit.” Ash wasn’t answering.

Ryan replaced the handset.

Now what?

In desperation, he pulled out his mobile phone. The screen was still blank. He pressed and held

down the power button, willing it to come on. Amazingly, it flashed to life. Well, at least that was

something. Ryan quickly scrolled through the call lists stored on his phone. Ash wasn’t answering his

mobile, but he might be at home. Ryan didn’t know Ash’s home number by heart, however he was

fairly sure Ash had called him from there a few times. Ryan prayed it was saved somewhere on the

received calls list.

“Hi, Ryan!” someone trilled at him. Ryan glanced up at the front of the bar. Sheila, one of the

regulars, was there, waving and smiling at him. Her boyfriend, Steve, was by her side, chatting to

Rachel at the bar.

Ryan waved back, trying to muster a smile. “Hi, Sheila.”

“You on shift, hun?” she called.

“Um...” Ryan was technically on shift, although it would be finishing soon. It was fast approaching

six. The bar would get busy, and Rachel would start griping about being on her own. Ryan bit down his

panic as he stared ahead into nothing.

“Ryan?” Sheila startled him by appearing at his side, leaning over the out-of-use back bar. “You all

right, hun?”

Ryan saw the concern in her eyes. He liked Sheila, a lot. She was one of Ginger’s friends, which

was probably why Ryan liked her. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “Just trying to call Ash.”

Sheila looked at the mobile phone in his hand. “Okay. Well, we’re staying for a couple of pints,

then heading out to the beach soon with our lanterns.”

“Oh, right.” Solstice. Oh, no. That meant the bar would be even busier than normal. Ryan forced out

a smile. “I probably won’t make the beach, but I’ll try and catch you before you leave here.”

“Sure. Come find me if you want a chat.” Sheila smiled back warmly, then disappeared.

Ryan breathed a sigh, then walked out back to the relative quiet of the stairwell. He longed to sit

down, but he didn’t dare. If he did, he probably wouldn’t get up again. Ginger’s leather jacket was

hanging on the bannister, on top of a few other coats, including Rachel’s leopard print one. Ryan

resisted running his hand on the leather, as he often did when he was sure no one saw him. He

concentrated on scrolling through his call lists.

At last, a piece of good luck found him. He recognised Ash’s home number, and pressed connect,

holding the phone to his ear. After three rings, it picked up. Ryan’s ear was greeted by several noises

at once; Indian music tinkling away in the background, the crash of pans, and a deep voice speaking in