He went back to his room to find something to change into. “Nico, wait—” And stopped in the doorway. The bed had been slept in, the covers still a nest the way Ryan tended to leave them. His phone charger was plugged into the lamp on Nico’s bedside table, the white noise machine next to it. The stitches ripped. If Ryan missed him so much he was sleeping in his bed, why had he pushed Nico away in the first place? Why didn’t he come home when Nico got traded? Why hadn’t he let Nico know how he felt before that horrible day at the arena?
