Knowing that he doesn't have even a single answer to his questions, Riley forces himself to stop turning them over and over in his head. He knows too well that the only person who can give him those answers is Henry.
What he doesn't know is whether he's ready to sit down with him and talk about everything, really talk.
The thought of it shakes him. He knows they need that conversation, knows silence is a dangerous place to keep hiding in. Because if they don't speak, if they keep skirting around what they are doing, then everything inside him is only going to sink deeper, roots burrowing into him until he can't pull free.
And if he's honest with himself, brutally honest, he already knows what's happening... For the first time in his life, he thinks he might be liking someone this way. Not a crush, not some fleeting want, but real, unstoppable feeling.
It frightens him most.
