Page 37 of Someone Like You

“Thank you,” I said. I slid my feet back into my boots and we headed downstairs and out the door. I had been bracing myself for running into the new roommate, but no one was around, thankfully. When I set Isaac on the passenger side, he let go reluctantly, and I cupped his cheek and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. I took the bags from Jordan and tossed them in the bed, then said, “I should have your number, in case something happens.”

Jordan nodded and gave me his number, then said, shifting uneasily, “I feel so fucking bad. Like the shittiest friend. But I’m glad…I’m glad he’s comfortable with you. At least he’s talking again. And moving. Have him call me in the morning, okay? I packed all his school stuff, and I even emailed all his professors and told them he was sick, so they gave him extensions on things. He’s so fucking anal about his grades, and he’s gonna be so pissed when he’s back to himself again. Just let him know that it’s okay and that I love him, okay?”

“I will. Maybe you should get in touch with housing, tell them the situation? Get that guy to move somewhere else?”

Jordan bit his lip and said, “Isaac doesn’t want anyone to know what happened, so I doubt we could just tell the school that we want the guy to move out just because. And Sam isnothinglike his brother. He justlookslike him, which is monumentally unfortunate. Cameron has been friends with Sam for years, likebestfriends, so when Sam’s house flooded a few days ago and him and all his roommates had to leave, Cam offered him the basement here. Cam didn’t know who Sam’s brother was to Isaac, and I don’t think Sam even knows what his brother did. He was so upset about what happened that he’s just been staying in his room, too. He feels horrible, and he’s been looking for other places to live, but thereisnowhere else. This whole situation is so fucked up. I mean, maybe Isaac will want to tell the school, just to have a safe place to live—not that I’m saying it’s not safe, because it is, but a place hefeelssafe—but I doubt it. He never even told his aunt and uncle what happened. Hell, he’s hardly toldme. I just know the bare minimum, and even that was enough, so I don’t blame Isaac at all for not wanting to share this. Just…just take care of him, okay?”

I swallowed against the horrible thickness in my throat and bit the inside of my cheek. Nodding, I said, “You’re not a shitty friend, Jordan. Isaac needs people in his life who care enough to help him by loving him for who he is. I see the way he is with you, and it’s obvious he loves you. You’re a good friend.”

Jordan’s eyes were shiny, glistening with unshed tears. He took a deep breath and slapped the side of my truck. “Get the fuck out of here and go be all cute with each other.” Then he turned around and went inside.

When I slid behind the wheel and started the car, Isaac was curled up against the passenger door, his arms tucked around his legs. He’d put his seatbelt on, which I took to be a good sign,but he was staring blankly out the windshield. “You ready?” I asked. I think, if he said no, I would’ve just kidnapped him at this point.

But he nodded, his gaze flicking briefly to mine. And then, painstakingly slowly, he moved his left hand down to the seat and slid it toward me, fingers outstretched. I took it in mine immediately, slipping my fingers through his and grasping him tight. My eyes slid closed for a moment, tenderness blooming in my chest as I let myself revel in the simple feel of holding his hand. Then, my jaw set in determination, I used my left hand to shift into drive and pulled away from Isaac’s house.

I almost shit myself when Isaac spoke. We’d been driving for ten minutes in silence, the only sound the humming of the engine and tires on asphalt. I’d been glancing at him every thirty seconds to gauge how he was doing and also because he was so heartbreakingly beautiful.

“Can we stop at Taco Bell?” he asked softly.

I startled and looked over at him, saw he was gazing at me with an almost hopeful expression, so I said, “Of course we can. What do you want from there?”

“Some crunchy tacos. And hot sauce.”

I looked at the time on the dash. It was only nine, so they were still open. If they hadn’t been, I probably would’ve broken in and made the damn tacos myself.

“Whatever you want,” I said, squeezing his hand. God, it felt so good, so right, to have his hand in mine.

“Thanks, Brody,” he whispered.

I got him ten crunchy tacos and probably thirty packets of hot sauce, even though it was overkill and he most likely wouldn’t eat more than one or two. I’d offered him the bag, but he hadn’t wanted to eat them in the car. I’d try to get him to have at least one when we got back.

The rest of the ride was quiet, but Isaac seemed a tiny bit more alert and walked beside me to the house while I carried his bags. Once we were in the basement, door shut and locked, I led him to my bedroom. He hesitated in the doorway, watching me while I set his bags at the foot of my dresser and turned down the blanket.

“You can sleep in here,” I told him. “I’ll even let you eat your tacos in my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch, and you can come get me if you need anything. Okay?”

He started to nod, then shook his head hard. “I don’t…will you stay with me?”

“Whatever you want, Isaac. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I want you to stay,” he said, stepping into the room.

“Then I’ll stay,” I said softly. “Come here.” I held my hand out and he didn’t hesitate. His fingers curled in mine and he let me bring him to sit on the edge of the bed. Keeping my eyes on his, because he wasn’t looking anywhere else and I felt that it was grounding him, somehow, I kicked my boots off and unzipped my pants, shoving them off my legs and folding them neatly before setting them on top of the dresser. Isaac stood up and did the same, though his movements were slow and disjointed. Then he crawled into the bed, near the wall, and slipped his legs under the covers. Still watching me.

I grabbed the food and brought it with me, setting it between us as I got in bed. “I want you to eat at least one of these,” I said. I wasn’t sure when he’d eaten last, but I could take a guess that it hadn’t been today. Or yesterday. Maybe not even since Wednesday.

“Eat with me,” he said.

I pulled out two crunchy tacos and a handful of hot sauce and handed him one, putting the sauce in the space between us. Isaac watched me as I unwrapped my taco, then ripped open a packet of hot sauce with my teeth, his gaze flitting from mymouth to my eyes. I was pleased to see more color in his cheeks now, a little more life in those green eyes, and when he delicately unwrapped his own taco, I was overjoyed. He used his teeth to open the sauce packet as he held my gaze, and for whatever reason the image seemed wholly erotic, but I was cursing the heat that curled in my belly because now was not the fucking time.

Isaac took small, careful bites, looking from me to his food, and when he was done and asked for another, I practically ripped the bag to get him another taco.

He ended up eating three, and I felt like I’d accomplished some great feat. I had an aluminum water bottle on my bedside table, and he drank from it, taking long gulps, some of the water sluicing down his chin and dripping onto his shirt. When I went to put the rest of the tacos in the fridge out in the living room, he panicked.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered harshly.

“I’ll be right back, Isaac, I promise. Okay? I’m just putting these in the fridge. I’ll be back in thirty seconds. Can you count them for me?” I gripped the nape of his neck and pulled him toward me so I could kiss his forehead, and he nodded against my lips.

“Good. I’m so fucking proud of you, sweetheart. You’re doing such a good job. Count for me,” I said, getting up and walking backwards out of the room so he could see my face. My eyes. There was fear in his eyes, but he started counting, and I was back before he got to fifteen.

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