Page 15 of Running Feral

There it is. Out in the open, waiting to be snatched up or slapped to the floor.

Gunnar’s eyebrows climb up his forehead and his breath catches. His lips begin to form a word, and for a second I think he’s going to say yes. I need him to say yes, because while normally being by myself is my most form, there’s something about the bulk and warmth and smell of him that sets me at ease even more.

“I, um. I don’t think that would be a good idea,” he says, at last. Something churns in my gut, but I try to keep the feeling from making itself known on my face. “You’re hurt, and this is all confusing. I don’t want to do anything that might blur boundaries. I’ll be right outside this door, though. You can keep the door open if you want. Just yell if you need something.”

He starts to move toward me, and I think it might be to stroke my hair back like he did before. But I don’t want him to touch me right now. I feel too twisted. I pull his blanket over me and curl up, making myself into a tight, uninviting parcel as quickly as I can.

Gunnar seems to take the hint and stops moving. After too long of a pause, he steps back through the doorway and slowly moves into the living room.

“Like I said. I’m here if you need me.”

Chapter Six

Idon’t think either of us sleeps for what little remains of the night. I doze, but I’m too focused on keeping alert in case Tobias needs something. And I hear him rustling blankets constantly in a way no sleeping person would. Although, of course, he never asks me for anything.

It makes sense that he wouldn’t, considering the one thing he did ask me for, I refused to give him. But Lord help me, I’m trying to have some boundaries. I’m already forcing myself to admit I have had an infatuation with him that’s all bound up with how much I want to help him. None of that sounds fucking healthy. Add that to the fact that he’s here and has nowhere else to go. Crawling into bed and holding him exactly like I want to is dangerous territory that I can’t let myself enter.

Just because I caved at the start, when holding him seemed like the only thing between Tobias and totally falling apart, doesn’t mean it can become a habit.

So, instead of sleeping, I lay on the couch and stew in my guilt. When it gets to late morning, around the time I mightnormally get up, I slip into the kitchen to brew some coffee. I have a headache in my left temple, accompanied by the kind of tightness that’s threatening to become a migraine, but hasn’t committed yet. Caffeine might head it off at the pass.

“Hey.”

The sound of Tobias’s voice is quiet and raspy, but I’m lost in my thoughts that it still makes me jump.

Turning around, I see him leaning heavily against the wall before making his way over to the table. He looks like an extra from a zombie movie that’s on the verge of fraying apart, so on instinct, I duck toward him to help. Which is a stupid move, because it’s sudden and aggressive and makes him flinch away, hurting him enough in the process to make him gasp.

We’re both breathing hard after barely a few seconds of uncomfortable interaction, and he’s still struggling to stand. Slowly and carefully, I reach for him again. He lets me take hold of his arm, even though he stiffens under my touch, and I help him get to one of the chairs I have around my little table that passes for a dining area.

“Jesus, you scared me. Why didn’t you shout? I would have helped you up.”

Tobias huffs but doesn’t make eye contact with me.

“It’s fine. You don’t need to make such a big deal about it. I’m sore and bruised up. I don’t need to bother you for every little thing when I’m already trampling all over your place.”

I give the words a second to settle before I answer, busying myself with pouring coffee for both of us, then placing the mugs on the table, along with some cheap creamer I find in the back of my fridge that he might want. I’m about to sit down, but as an afterthought I catch myself, pulling sugar out of a cabinet first.

He probably hasn’t eaten in a long time. That should happen soon.

Mentally planning out the rest of the day is taking up so much of my attention, I almost forget to reply entirely. Then I notice that Tobias is finally looking at me and snap my attention back to the real world.

“It’s not a burden to have you here. I’m glad you came somewhere you could be safe. I worry about you. I know I don’t really know you, but still.”

There’s a hint of an eye roll in Tobias’s expression, but it’s so endearing I can’t bring myself to be annoyed. I’m grateful anytime he shows an emotion other than self-hatred, self-pity or abjectblankness.

“I’m fine.” There’s a pause, then some sincerity creeps into his voice, although he’s not looking me in the eye anymore as he blows on his coffee, which he didn’t end up putting anything into. “Thank you, Gunnar.”

“Of course. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. What did Micah say? Is there anything you need me to get for you?”

Tobias shakes his head, still looking down. He still looks pallid, blue bruising spread over too-pale skin, but it’s a little better than last night. My eyes drift and get caught on the tiny smattering of freckles over the bridge of his nose. They’re faint—normally almost blending in with the sand-colored blush of his skin—but so perfectly placed they almost look fake. You have to look so closely to notice, but whenever I do, I can’t look away.

“He said I’m fine.” Tobias holds the mug in front of his face, the sleeves of my giant hoodie covering his fingers, and squirming a little. “I’ll heal.”

I don’t say anything, and then he finally looks up at me and sighs again, a little more dramatically this time.

“No one’s dying, Gunnar. You can take a breath.”

There’s a hint of a smile behind his sass, and it makes me smile back. A real smile, for the first time since he got here, and I threw all my energy into worrying about him.

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