"Hey!" Bruce called taking off after him. "Stop!" A couple pedestrians
took notice and watched what was going on. They saw Bruce catch up with
Richie and firmly grasp the boy's bag.
"Hey!" Richie yelled stopping and turning around as the bag was ripped off his shoulder. "That's mine!"
"Then come with me, I'll give it to your mom and she can give it back to you."
"Screw it, you can keep it," Richie snapped turning to run again. This time Bruce had anticipated his move and his longer legs allowed him to easily catch the fleeing boy by the back of his jacket. "LEMME GO!"
"I told your parents I'd bring you home. I keep my word," Bruce insisted keeping his grip firm as he dragged Richie toward the police station.
"You and Mac."
"Did Mac say he wasn't going to hit you?" Bruce asked. Richie didn't answer.
"Ryan, why am I not surprised?" Sargent Powell drawled when he spotted Bruce and Richie. "What did he do?"
"He's your runaway," Bruce answered keeping his grip and Richie tried to twist out of it.
"The runaway?" Powell repeated. "Goldman! What's your runaway's name?"
An officer across the room looked through some files. "Michelle Peters, Joel-" Richie took in a sharp breath. "Young, and Richie Ryan."
"Cross Ryan off your list and call his." Powell looked at Richie. "Who reported you missing?" he asked as if the idea was unbelievable.
Richie stared indignantly at him. "Tessa," he answered smugly. "Tessa Noel. just 'cause you don't like me doesn't mean no one else does."
"That's Ryan?" Officer Goldman asked walking over and looking Richie up and down. "I've seen you around here."
"I've been around."
"Okay, I'll put him in an interrogation room and I'll call Ms. Noel," Goldman decided taking Richie's arm and dragging him toward the interrogation rooms and thrusting him into one. "Stay put," he ordered before closing the door and locking it.
"What about my stuff?" Richie demanded through the closed door. Knowing nobody heard, nor cared what he had said he sighed and took his standard seat at the end of the table and waited. After about twenty minutes the lock turned again. Richie took a deep breath and watched as the door slowly opened.
"Richie!" Tessa shoved her way past Goldman and threw her arms around a very surprised Richie. Not being one for physical contact he remained stiff until she let go. "Are you okay?" she asked not severing the contact completely and stroking his cheek. "You had us so worried."
Richie tried to remain strong emotionally but once he looked Tessa in the eye, and saw how truly worried she was, his resolve left him. "I'm sorry," he whispered feeling the tears well up in his eyes. He had run away from families before and had always gotten yelled at straight off; getting affection was a new experience.
"I know. Come with me and we'll go home." She offered him her hand and tentatively he reached for it. Tessa smiled as his fingers closed around hers. "Come." She gave him a gentle tug to help him to his feet and led him into the main office of the station. He quietly trailed behind uncomfortable holding her hand, but comforted by it at the same time.
"Okay, Ms. Noel, there's some release papers that need to be signed but then you'll be free to go," Goldman said as he placed a stack of papers on his desk for her to look at.
She glanced over them and signed with one hand, still holding onto Richie with the other as if she was scared he'd run off again. Richie looked around the station and spotted Bruce still talking to Powell. Not used to the near death-grip Tessa had on him he tried to go get his bag only to be pulled back with such force he almost fell over.
"Where are you going?" Tessa demanded sternly.
"He has my stuff," Richie said quietly instantly frightened by her tone gesturing loosely toward Bruce.
"Is that the man who brought you home?" Tessa asked gently realizing what she had done.
"Yeah," he answered. "And he has my stuff." Richie tried to go to him again. Tessa kept her grip again.
"Is that everything?" she asked Goldman.
"Seems to be."
Tessa nodded satisfactorily and took Richie over to where Bruce was standing. "You brought Richie home?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," Bruce nodded politely.
"Thank you!" Tessa let go of Richie and hugged Bruce warmly. "Thank you so much!" Richie took the opportunity to snatch his bag up off the floor.
"It was my pleasure, Richie's good company," Bruce smiled as Tessa let him go. "Although if you don't mind me saying, if there's any truth to his fear this is where to handle it."
"His fear?" Tessa repeated. "Oh! Oh, no! The only thing waiting for him at home is a nice dinner and a warm shower," she assured Bruce. "He just misunderstood."
Bruce nodded and shifted his gaze to Richie. "I'd better not see you around, Sport," he said with a grin.
"Okay," Richie answered pulling what little money he had left out of his pocket. "Here."
"What's that for?"
"The ride, dinner, gas, whatever."
"Don't worry about it, Sport." And with that Bruce turned on his heel and left leaving Richie still standing with the money in his hand.
"Come on, Richie," Tessa took his hand again and together they walked out to Tessa's car.
"Where's Mac?" Richie asked quietly at a stoplight.
"He's still looking for you. I haven't been able to get a hold of him."
"He's out looking for me?" Richie asked; usually the cops were the only ones looking for him.
"Of course, you didn't think we were just going to let you run off? Richie, you're sixteen, we would nev-"
"Seventeen," Richie corrected quietly. "I'm seventeen."
Tessa glanced over at him. "Since when?"
"A while ago."
"Why didn't you tell us?"
"You were kinda busy grounding me," Richie offered.
"We grounded you on your birthday?" Tessa asked. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"I didn't want you to think I was trying to get out of trouble."
"But it was your birthday! If you had told us I wouldn't have made you go to school that day we would have waited before there was any punishment. Didn't you want cake, ice cream, presents?" Tessa didn't understand; every kid liked getting presents.
"You guys had already done so much for me; I didn't want to ask for anything."
"Richie, you're part of the family now. Your birthday is important. When was it?"
"Twentieth."
"What do you want?" Richie didn't answer. "Anything at all?" Still no response. "When you decide, you just tell us and it's as good as yours," she assured him reaching over to pat his knee. She quickly drew her hand back when Richie moved out of the way. She pulled the car to a stop behind the store. "Why don't you go get cleaned up, put on something warm, and I'll make you some dinner," she offered.
"Okay."
Tessa was just beginning to slice the frozen pizza she had made when Richie shuffled into the kitchen wearing the flannel pajamas she had laid out for him. She giggled at the site of him.
"I guess I thought you were bigger," she admitted with a smile. The sleeves hung down to his knuckles, the shirt half way down his thighs, and the pants gathered at his ankles and slid under his heels when he walked. The size of his clothes combined with this still damp hair hanging in his eyes made him look as if he was a little kid in his father's clothes.
"They're fine," Richie assured her, grinning for the first time since he had returned. He knew he looked about twelve but they were comfortable and warm; a far cry from the wet jeans and thin jacket he had been wearing the past three days. "Pizza, huh?" he asked sliding up onto a stool at the counter.
"I would have made you something a little healthier, but we haven't been to the store."
"You just want to hear me complain," Richie shot back reaching for a slice.
"Use a plate," Tessa ordered handing him one. She was relieved that he seemed to have readjusted quickly to being home again. She watched him cover the pizza in parmesan cheese and crushed red pepper before eating it.
"Hot!" he yelled through a mouthful of melted cheese as it burned the roof of his mouth. Tessa smiled and quickly got him a soda from the refrigerator. He took it and downed half of it before he realized what she had given him. "Thought I wasn't supposed to have cokes," he said slyly still clutching the can as if she might take it back.
"Tonight is a special occasion. But don't think that means you should just run away so you can get another soda."
"Tess?" Duncan called entering her workshop. He looked up and spotted Richie through the glass window of the loft. He ran into the kitchen and stared at him for a second. "What the hell did you think you were doing?" he demanded in a booming voice.
Richie's face paled. "I'm sorry," he whispered in a shaky voice. This was the homecoming he was used to.
"Sorry?" Duncan repeated. "You're sorry? How could you be so stupid!" he continued as he stalked across the floor to the frightened boy. "You could have gotten hurt! Or killed!" Duncan stood on the other side of the counter from Richie.
"I'm sorry," Richie repeated with total fear in his voice.
Duncan paused. "Richie," he said softly. "I shouldn't be yelling at you. But you had us so worried." Without thinking he reached out to put his hand on the boy's shoulder.
With a sharp breath Richie tried to push away from the counter and only succeeded in pushing himself off the stool. He fell backward to the ground hitting his head on the table on his way down.
"Richie!" Both Duncan and Tessa quickly skirted the counter to help him.
"Richie, are you okay?" Duncan asked urgently.
In response Richie groaned and fingered the growing lump on the back of his head.
"Richie, say something. What day is it?"
"I dunno," the boy answered groggily.
"Duncan," Tessa started worriedly.
"Who's the president?" Duncan tried.
"Can't you ask me a question I'd know the answer to if I had hit my head or not?"
"Where are you?"
"That's more like it," Richie said with a smirk; his sense of humor was back, but he still didn't feel like moving. "I'm on the floor."
"Does it hurt much?" Tessa asked gently.
"Waddaya think?"
"No need to get testy," she smiled down at him. "I'll get some aspirin." She got up and went into the bathroom to get the medicine from the cabinet. When she returned to the kitchen Richie was on his feet glaring hard across the kitchen at Duncan.
"That's what you said," he repeated.
"It's not what I meant," Duncan insisted.
"Yeah, it is. I don't know why I thought you would be any different. You're all the same; you start out nice, but the second one little thing goes wrong you go off the deep end!"
"Richie, nothing is going to happen to you!" Duncan yelled. "Why won't you believe me?"
"Because it's pointless to believe anyone; everyone just lies!"
"Richie, have I ever lied to you?"
"I don't know, have you?" Richie shot back.
"That's it, get over here," Duncan ordered sharply.
"Duncan," Tessa started stepping toward him.
"No," he cut her off. "He needs to be taught a lesson. Richie, get over here." Taking a deep breath Richie walked from his corner and stopped directly in front of Duncan.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked emotionlessly. "Are you a 'bend over and grab the table' kinda guy or a 'face me and take it like a man' kinda guy?"
Duncan pulled out a chair from the table and sat in it. "I believe the punishment should fit the actions," he explained. He reached up and grabbed Richie by the arm and before Richie could react, he was laying on his stomach on Duncan's lap. "You act like a child; you should be punished like a child."
"You're gonna spank me?" Richie asked; the idea was almost funny.
"Duncan, if you lay a hand on him." Tessa warned.
"This is what he wants," Duncan assured her.
"No I don't!" Richie protested from his precarious position.
"Then why do you keep expecting me to hit you?" Duncan asked shooting a pointed look at Tessa.
"Because it's what you said!"
"I also said I left because I didn't want to hit you, or did you not hear that part?"
"Look, if you're going to do this, can you just do it so I can go to bed?" Richie asked bitterly.
"No, Richie, this isn't something that can just be over. This isn't as simple as you did something wrong and need to be punished. This is a trust issue. You don't trust us and I don't understand why. What have we ever done to you?" Richie didn't answer. "Where did you get the idea that we had it out for you? Why do you expect us to turn on you? Is that what you want?" Richie still didn't answer. "Is it?" Duncan repeated giving Richie's rump a half-hearted swat before shifting the boy's position so he was sitting in Duncan's lap instead of slung across it. "Why the sudden change of attitude? I thought you liked it here."
"I did," Richie answered softly. "I liked the way things used to be."
"What's wrong with the way things are now? Is school really that torturous?"
"It's not school."
"Is it not being able to work? The sodas? Bedtimes? Richie, all that is just because we love you. We want everything to work out for you."
Richie stood up. "That's the problem."
"Which one?" Tessa asked.
"The love one. I'm not ready. Please don't make me."
"Ready to be loved?" Tessa asked. "Richie, whether you want us to or not, we love you."
"No," Richie pleaded. "You can't. I don't want to. I'm not ready."
"Richie, you're not making any sense. What are you talking about?"
"Please," Richie said again. "I can't." He looked back and forth between the two as he slowly backed out of the kitchen.
"Can't what?" Tessa asked.
"You know."
"No, we don't."
"I'm sure you would if I said 'I love you, too'." Richie took a step back and slid on the tile when his pajama bottoms slipped under his heel. His hands shot out trying to find something to catch himself on. his right had caught the edge of the tray from the tea set and he brought the delicate china crashing down on top of him. The cups and saucers shattered as they hit the tile. For a second Richie lay motionless among the shattered remains of the antique tea set. "Aw, man," he whispered sitting up. He set his hand down on what used to be the teapot. With a loud pop! It broke again under his weight. "Ow!" He put his other hand over the wound and tried to figure out what to do.
"Don't do that," Duncan ordered kneeling beside him and taking the bleeding hand in his own. "There's glass in it. Tessa, can you get the tweezers?" Once again Tessa disappeared to the medicine cabinet to return to the pair yelling at each other.
"Don't touch it!" Richie yelled. "It hurts!"
"I know that, but I have to get the teapot out of your hand. Now hold still," he ordered taking the tweezers from Tessa and diligently removing the shards from the boy's hand. "I think that's all of it," he announced after a minute. Tessa handed him a gauze square soaked in antiseptic. "This will hurt," Duncan warned before he began to gently clean the blood off Richie's hand. Richie flinched slightly but said nothing. "There we go, all done," he said as he finished bandaging the wound. "Now sit still until we get all this cleaned up. I don't want you stepping on anything."
After they got everything cleaned up Tessa gave Richie two aspirin and Duncan gave him a mug of hot tea that he had made with a special blend of roots that Darius had given him. The special tea worked, before he had drunk half of it Richie's eyes began to droop. Duncan made him finish it anyway. When he did Tessa took him to his room and tucked him into bed.
"I think maybe you should call that friend of yours," Duncan admitted when Tessa came to help him clean up the dishes from the dinner Richie never ate. "I thought this was all an attention thing, but he has a real problem. And we can't help him."
"I'll call her in the morning," Tessa decided. They worked silently for a minute then Tessa began to giggle.
"What's so funny?" Duncan asked.
"You were going to spank him."
"Hey!" Richie yelled stopping and turning around as the bag was ripped off his shoulder. "That's mine!"
"Then come with me, I'll give it to your mom and she can give it back to you."
"Screw it, you can keep it," Richie snapped turning to run again. This time Bruce had anticipated his move and his longer legs allowed him to easily catch the fleeing boy by the back of his jacket. "LEMME GO!"
"I told your parents I'd bring you home. I keep my word," Bruce insisted keeping his grip firm as he dragged Richie toward the police station.
"You and Mac."
"Did Mac say he wasn't going to hit you?" Bruce asked. Richie didn't answer.
"Ryan, why am I not surprised?" Sargent Powell drawled when he spotted Bruce and Richie. "What did he do?"
"He's your runaway," Bruce answered keeping his grip and Richie tried to twist out of it.
"The runaway?" Powell repeated. "Goldman! What's your runaway's name?"
An officer across the room looked through some files. "Michelle Peters, Joel-" Richie took in a sharp breath. "Young, and Richie Ryan."
"Cross Ryan off your list and call his." Powell looked at Richie. "Who reported you missing?" he asked as if the idea was unbelievable.
Richie stared indignantly at him. "Tessa," he answered smugly. "Tessa Noel. just 'cause you don't like me doesn't mean no one else does."
"That's Ryan?" Officer Goldman asked walking over and looking Richie up and down. "I've seen you around here."
"I've been around."
"Okay, I'll put him in an interrogation room and I'll call Ms. Noel," Goldman decided taking Richie's arm and dragging him toward the interrogation rooms and thrusting him into one. "Stay put," he ordered before closing the door and locking it.
"What about my stuff?" Richie demanded through the closed door. Knowing nobody heard, nor cared what he had said he sighed and took his standard seat at the end of the table and waited. After about twenty minutes the lock turned again. Richie took a deep breath and watched as the door slowly opened.
"Richie!" Tessa shoved her way past Goldman and threw her arms around a very surprised Richie. Not being one for physical contact he remained stiff until she let go. "Are you okay?" she asked not severing the contact completely and stroking his cheek. "You had us so worried."
Richie tried to remain strong emotionally but once he looked Tessa in the eye, and saw how truly worried she was, his resolve left him. "I'm sorry," he whispered feeling the tears well up in his eyes. He had run away from families before and had always gotten yelled at straight off; getting affection was a new experience.
"I know. Come with me and we'll go home." She offered him her hand and tentatively he reached for it. Tessa smiled as his fingers closed around hers. "Come." She gave him a gentle tug to help him to his feet and led him into the main office of the station. He quietly trailed behind uncomfortable holding her hand, but comforted by it at the same time.
"Okay, Ms. Noel, there's some release papers that need to be signed but then you'll be free to go," Goldman said as he placed a stack of papers on his desk for her to look at.
She glanced over them and signed with one hand, still holding onto Richie with the other as if she was scared he'd run off again. Richie looked around the station and spotted Bruce still talking to Powell. Not used to the near death-grip Tessa had on him he tried to go get his bag only to be pulled back with such force he almost fell over.
"Where are you going?" Tessa demanded sternly.
"He has my stuff," Richie said quietly instantly frightened by her tone gesturing loosely toward Bruce.
"Is that the man who brought you home?" Tessa asked gently realizing what she had done.
"Yeah," he answered. "And he has my stuff." Richie tried to go to him again. Tessa kept her grip again.
"Is that everything?" she asked Goldman.
"Seems to be."
Tessa nodded satisfactorily and took Richie over to where Bruce was standing. "You brought Richie home?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," Bruce nodded politely.
"Thank you!" Tessa let go of Richie and hugged Bruce warmly. "Thank you so much!" Richie took the opportunity to snatch his bag up off the floor.
"It was my pleasure, Richie's good company," Bruce smiled as Tessa let him go. "Although if you don't mind me saying, if there's any truth to his fear this is where to handle it."
"His fear?" Tessa repeated. "Oh! Oh, no! The only thing waiting for him at home is a nice dinner and a warm shower," she assured Bruce. "He just misunderstood."
Bruce nodded and shifted his gaze to Richie. "I'd better not see you around, Sport," he said with a grin.
"Okay," Richie answered pulling what little money he had left out of his pocket. "Here."
"What's that for?"
"The ride, dinner, gas, whatever."
"Don't worry about it, Sport." And with that Bruce turned on his heel and left leaving Richie still standing with the money in his hand.
"Come on, Richie," Tessa took his hand again and together they walked out to Tessa's car.
"Where's Mac?" Richie asked quietly at a stoplight.
"He's still looking for you. I haven't been able to get a hold of him."
"He's out looking for me?" Richie asked; usually the cops were the only ones looking for him.
"Of course, you didn't think we were just going to let you run off? Richie, you're sixteen, we would nev-"
"Seventeen," Richie corrected quietly. "I'm seventeen."
Tessa glanced over at him. "Since when?"
"A while ago."
"Why didn't you tell us?"
"You were kinda busy grounding me," Richie offered.
"We grounded you on your birthday?" Tessa asked. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"I didn't want you to think I was trying to get out of trouble."
"But it was your birthday! If you had told us I wouldn't have made you go to school that day we would have waited before there was any punishment. Didn't you want cake, ice cream, presents?" Tessa didn't understand; every kid liked getting presents.
"You guys had already done so much for me; I didn't want to ask for anything."
"Richie, you're part of the family now. Your birthday is important. When was it?"
"Twentieth."
"What do you want?" Richie didn't answer. "Anything at all?" Still no response. "When you decide, you just tell us and it's as good as yours," she assured him reaching over to pat his knee. She quickly drew her hand back when Richie moved out of the way. She pulled the car to a stop behind the store. "Why don't you go get cleaned up, put on something warm, and I'll make you some dinner," she offered.
"Okay."
Tessa was just beginning to slice the frozen pizza she had made when Richie shuffled into the kitchen wearing the flannel pajamas she had laid out for him. She giggled at the site of him.
"I guess I thought you were bigger," she admitted with a smile. The sleeves hung down to his knuckles, the shirt half way down his thighs, and the pants gathered at his ankles and slid under his heels when he walked. The size of his clothes combined with this still damp hair hanging in his eyes made him look as if he was a little kid in his father's clothes.
"They're fine," Richie assured her, grinning for the first time since he had returned. He knew he looked about twelve but they were comfortable and warm; a far cry from the wet jeans and thin jacket he had been wearing the past three days. "Pizza, huh?" he asked sliding up onto a stool at the counter.
"I would have made you something a little healthier, but we haven't been to the store."
"You just want to hear me complain," Richie shot back reaching for a slice.
"Use a plate," Tessa ordered handing him one. She was relieved that he seemed to have readjusted quickly to being home again. She watched him cover the pizza in parmesan cheese and crushed red pepper before eating it.
"Hot!" he yelled through a mouthful of melted cheese as it burned the roof of his mouth. Tessa smiled and quickly got him a soda from the refrigerator. He took it and downed half of it before he realized what she had given him. "Thought I wasn't supposed to have cokes," he said slyly still clutching the can as if she might take it back.
"Tonight is a special occasion. But don't think that means you should just run away so you can get another soda."
"Tess?" Duncan called entering her workshop. He looked up and spotted Richie through the glass window of the loft. He ran into the kitchen and stared at him for a second. "What the hell did you think you were doing?" he demanded in a booming voice.
Richie's face paled. "I'm sorry," he whispered in a shaky voice. This was the homecoming he was used to.
"Sorry?" Duncan repeated. "You're sorry? How could you be so stupid!" he continued as he stalked across the floor to the frightened boy. "You could have gotten hurt! Or killed!" Duncan stood on the other side of the counter from Richie.
"I'm sorry," Richie repeated with total fear in his voice.
Duncan paused. "Richie," he said softly. "I shouldn't be yelling at you. But you had us so worried." Without thinking he reached out to put his hand on the boy's shoulder.
With a sharp breath Richie tried to push away from the counter and only succeeded in pushing himself off the stool. He fell backward to the ground hitting his head on the table on his way down.
"Richie!" Both Duncan and Tessa quickly skirted the counter to help him.
"Richie, are you okay?" Duncan asked urgently.
In response Richie groaned and fingered the growing lump on the back of his head.
"Richie, say something. What day is it?"
"I dunno," the boy answered groggily.
"Duncan," Tessa started worriedly.
"Who's the president?" Duncan tried.
"Can't you ask me a question I'd know the answer to if I had hit my head or not?"
"Where are you?"
"That's more like it," Richie said with a smirk; his sense of humor was back, but he still didn't feel like moving. "I'm on the floor."
"Does it hurt much?" Tessa asked gently.
"Waddaya think?"
"No need to get testy," she smiled down at him. "I'll get some aspirin." She got up and went into the bathroom to get the medicine from the cabinet. When she returned to the kitchen Richie was on his feet glaring hard across the kitchen at Duncan.
"That's what you said," he repeated.
"It's not what I meant," Duncan insisted.
"Yeah, it is. I don't know why I thought you would be any different. You're all the same; you start out nice, but the second one little thing goes wrong you go off the deep end!"
"Richie, nothing is going to happen to you!" Duncan yelled. "Why won't you believe me?"
"Because it's pointless to believe anyone; everyone just lies!"
"Richie, have I ever lied to you?"
"I don't know, have you?" Richie shot back.
"That's it, get over here," Duncan ordered sharply.
"Duncan," Tessa started stepping toward him.
"No," he cut her off. "He needs to be taught a lesson. Richie, get over here." Taking a deep breath Richie walked from his corner and stopped directly in front of Duncan.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked emotionlessly. "Are you a 'bend over and grab the table' kinda guy or a 'face me and take it like a man' kinda guy?"
Duncan pulled out a chair from the table and sat in it. "I believe the punishment should fit the actions," he explained. He reached up and grabbed Richie by the arm and before Richie could react, he was laying on his stomach on Duncan's lap. "You act like a child; you should be punished like a child."
"You're gonna spank me?" Richie asked; the idea was almost funny.
"Duncan, if you lay a hand on him." Tessa warned.
"This is what he wants," Duncan assured her.
"No I don't!" Richie protested from his precarious position.
"Then why do you keep expecting me to hit you?" Duncan asked shooting a pointed look at Tessa.
"Because it's what you said!"
"I also said I left because I didn't want to hit you, or did you not hear that part?"
"Look, if you're going to do this, can you just do it so I can go to bed?" Richie asked bitterly.
"No, Richie, this isn't something that can just be over. This isn't as simple as you did something wrong and need to be punished. This is a trust issue. You don't trust us and I don't understand why. What have we ever done to you?" Richie didn't answer. "Where did you get the idea that we had it out for you? Why do you expect us to turn on you? Is that what you want?" Richie still didn't answer. "Is it?" Duncan repeated giving Richie's rump a half-hearted swat before shifting the boy's position so he was sitting in Duncan's lap instead of slung across it. "Why the sudden change of attitude? I thought you liked it here."
"I did," Richie answered softly. "I liked the way things used to be."
"What's wrong with the way things are now? Is school really that torturous?"
"It's not school."
"Is it not being able to work? The sodas? Bedtimes? Richie, all that is just because we love you. We want everything to work out for you."
Richie stood up. "That's the problem."
"Which one?" Tessa asked.
"The love one. I'm not ready. Please don't make me."
"Ready to be loved?" Tessa asked. "Richie, whether you want us to or not, we love you."
"No," Richie pleaded. "You can't. I don't want to. I'm not ready."
"Richie, you're not making any sense. What are you talking about?"
"Please," Richie said again. "I can't." He looked back and forth between the two as he slowly backed out of the kitchen.
"Can't what?" Tessa asked.
"You know."
"No, we don't."
"I'm sure you would if I said 'I love you, too'." Richie took a step back and slid on the tile when his pajama bottoms slipped under his heel. His hands shot out trying to find something to catch himself on. his right had caught the edge of the tray from the tea set and he brought the delicate china crashing down on top of him. The cups and saucers shattered as they hit the tile. For a second Richie lay motionless among the shattered remains of the antique tea set. "Aw, man," he whispered sitting up. He set his hand down on what used to be the teapot. With a loud pop! It broke again under his weight. "Ow!" He put his other hand over the wound and tried to figure out what to do.
"Don't do that," Duncan ordered kneeling beside him and taking the bleeding hand in his own. "There's glass in it. Tessa, can you get the tweezers?" Once again Tessa disappeared to the medicine cabinet to return to the pair yelling at each other.
"Don't touch it!" Richie yelled. "It hurts!"
"I know that, but I have to get the teapot out of your hand. Now hold still," he ordered taking the tweezers from Tessa and diligently removing the shards from the boy's hand. "I think that's all of it," he announced after a minute. Tessa handed him a gauze square soaked in antiseptic. "This will hurt," Duncan warned before he began to gently clean the blood off Richie's hand. Richie flinched slightly but said nothing. "There we go, all done," he said as he finished bandaging the wound. "Now sit still until we get all this cleaned up. I don't want you stepping on anything."
After they got everything cleaned up Tessa gave Richie two aspirin and Duncan gave him a mug of hot tea that he had made with a special blend of roots that Darius had given him. The special tea worked, before he had drunk half of it Richie's eyes began to droop. Duncan made him finish it anyway. When he did Tessa took him to his room and tucked him into bed.
"I think maybe you should call that friend of yours," Duncan admitted when Tessa came to help him clean up the dishes from the dinner Richie never ate. "I thought this was all an attention thing, but he has a real problem. And we can't help him."
"I'll call her in the morning," Tessa decided. They worked silently for a minute then Tessa began to giggle.
"What's so funny?" Duncan asked.
"You were going to spank him."
