Page 6 of Bender

“I won’t slow you down. I swear it!” He must have noticed my head shake and assumed I was judging him.

“I believe you, Peanut. I’m sorry I scared you. Shaking my head was just me clearing out the cobwebs and focusing on our next steps to get gone.”

He probably has no idea what I meant by clearing out cobwebs because he tilts his head to the side in confusion. I can’t help myself, and I really don’t know why I do it, but my lips move to brush a quick kiss against his forehead.

He’s so precious and earnest in how he man’s up to help me, even though he’s clearly malnourished and abused. Later, there’ll be plenty of time to figure out these feelings coming out of left field. For right now, we’re burning time.

I pull my sweater over my head, tangling in the tactical rig over my chest for a moment. I wrestle myself free in time to catch a spark of amusement cross the boy’s face before he blanks his expression.

“It’s okay. You can laugh. I probably look real silly, right now, don’t I?” I offer, smiling, so he knows it’s alright.

He grins back at me, a small one with a flash of a crooked little white tooth he licks over with the tip of his soft pink tongue. My universe tilts on its axis at that smile. An urge to explore his mouth with my own nearly overtakes me.

Not the time, I berate myself. Definitely not the fucking place. I’ve been straight and into overtly feminine base bunnies, who offer strings-free fun to soldiers, since I left home at eighteen. In a crime lord’s mansion, surrounded by dead bodies, is not the moment I’ll face the possibility I could be attracted to a man. One hardly more than a boy and surely too traumatized to consensually return my interest. Nope. Not gonna happen.

I hand him my sweater and step back to untie my boots and pull them off. They’ll be enormous on his delicate little feet, but I can pull the laces tight over his calves, so they stay on him.

A soft snore draws both our attention to the heap of female draped over his lap. They’re no longer chained together, but he’s been holding onto her like a lifeline, and I don’t blame him. I’m blowing up life as he knows it. In a good way, sure, but it’s gotta be scary.

“Blu always sleeps like this after…after…um…” He stumbles, the words to explain her panic attack beyond him.

“Why do you call her blue?” I ask to distract him from the frustration caused by his lack of vocabulary.

“Did you see her eyes? She calls me Grey on account of mine.”

“What are your real names?” I need to know, so I can track down where they came from. Not that I’ll give them back, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.

“We don’t have any. Master calls me mutt and her bitch.”

He can’t know how his simple explanation lights fury inside me.

“He ain’t calling you that bullshit ever again, Peanut. If he wasn’t dead already, I’d sure as fuck make sure he was now.” It’s taking all my control not to completely obliterate Huber’s corpse with every round I’ve got on me.

He sniffles, and it reminds me of the way Ace gets when the kid needs some physical comfort but isn’t ready to ask for it. Ace is the baby of the family, which is how he got his road name, Babe. Though Shaw and I thought we were doing right by him, joining the Army and sending cash home to help him, Arlo, and Cameron, who were also left behind after Jax went to jail, we failed the kid. He went through hell while we were gone, and though we all came back and he’s got us now, the damage remains. The kid can’t be touched without giving his explicit permission or it’s like a nuclear bomb goes off in his psyche.

I’ve already touched Grey a little bit without asking, and just the process of touching the girl to pull the duo out of their cage had her passing out cold. I need to remember to ask before touching them, just like I do with Ace. It’s obvious Grey needs something to ground him, though, before the reality of all this change and uncertainty crashes into him and he clocks the fuck out like she did.

“Grey?”

He doesn’t look at me.

“Hey, Peanut?”

Now, his eyes snap to mine. Before I continue, I make a mental note that he likes the nickname.

“Can I touch you? I think you need a hug.”

“Y-you’re askin’?” He snuffles.

“I’m asking.” I hold my hands open at my sides as I rise to my feet, my boots on the floor in front of me. Time constraints or not, the drive to soothe my boy is too compelling to refuse.

“P-please hug me then. I think I n-need it.” He stammers so sweetly emotion clogs my throat.

“Yeah, you do. I think I do, too, Boy.” I take each of his arms in my hands, marveling at the trim softness of his gangly limbs, and wrap them up around my neck before stepping close enough that my belly bumps his knobby knees.

I gently crush my arms around him, pulling his upper body into my chest and tucking his head under my chin. He smells of sweat and cheap soap. It shouldn’t affect me, but the sensation of him in my arms with Blu nestled on his lap between us settles around me and feels like coming home.

Chapter

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