Page 16 of Running Feral

This time, when I take a deep breath in before letting it out, I swear half the tension in my body goes with it. I stand up from the table, letting myself graze my hand along his shoulders for a second. Hopefully, there are no hard feelings about last night.

“I’m going to get you some food. What do you want?”

He looks up at me, a little confused this time.

“You don’t need to do that. I’m fine. Thank you.”

I can’t stop myself from raising an eyebrow at him, but he doesn’t relent. “I have plenty of food and you haven’t eaten. If you don’t pick, I’m picking for you, but you’re eating something one way or the other.”

Tobias chews on his bottom lip for a second and then shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

Close enough to a ‘yes’. I hum for a second but decide not to fight him on it. Instead, I focus on pulling things out of the pantry and the ancient fridge. I have enough to make something that passes for a real meal—eggs, sausage, tomatoes, toast. It’ll do. Living on my own for so long has made me lazy, and I hardly ever cook anything more complicated than an egg or something I can reheat. Especially when I eat down at the bar half the time, anyway. Not that it’s doing my health any favors. But he needs to eat real food right now.

While I start frying and toasting things, Tobias’s gaze follows me. His expression is carefully neutral, but he watches all my actions intently. I’m not sure why, but it doesn’t bother me, so I don’t point it out. Maybe if he gets relaxed enough, I can get some more information out of him.

“Do you live with him?” I ask, treading lightly.

It’s childish, but I don’t even want to let the man’s name pass my lips.

Tobias doesn’t get upset, though. He does snort.

“No. Hell, no. Even if I wanted to, which I never would, I don’t think his creepy boss would allow it. Blue-collar crime organizations are not exactly known for flying the rainbow flag and acceptingalternative lifestyles,” he says, using air quotes and wearing a disdainful expression.

“Okay, so where do you live?”

He gets quiet for a second. Eventually, he answers me. “With my lola. My grandmother.”

The food is ready, because it was all pretty quick to cook, so I messily dish it onto two plates and drop one in front of him before returning to my own seat with mine. He picks up the fork and looks at it, but doesn’t seem eager to eat.

“Got it. And you didn’t want to go home because…?”

Tobias looks at me, but it’s enough to make his point. I assume going home looking like that would have forced him to confront a lot of things he doesn’t want to, and probably would have ended in a non-optional trip to the hospital and potentially the police station. The way a normal, loving grandmother would respond.

“Do you want to at least tell her you’re safe?”

I don’t think he had his phone with him when he showed up. He barely had clothes. I can make an educated guess that he climbed out a window or something as soon as he had an opening, and he’s not offering up any details yet.

“Yeah, maybe.” His attention turns inward for a second. “Actually, yes. Can I use your phone, please?”

“Sure.” I pull it out, unlock it and hand it to him, then leave my plate for a minute to give him some privacy.

I pretend to be doing something important on the computer for the five minutes he talks on the phone. He keeps his voice low, so I can’t really hear what he’s saying, and a fewtimes I don’t think he’s speaking in English. But his tone is unmistakable.

Ashamed. Stressed. Apologetic. Frightened.

I can tell when he hangs up, but I give him a minute because there’s still a heavy sense of shame lingering around him. Once he’s had time to take a breath, I go back toward the kitchen.

“Are you okay?”

As soon as I speak, Tobias wipes all traces of emotion from his face and gives me a blank expression. It’s not quite quick enough, though. I can see that he’s hurting, even if I don’t know which specific thing is causing it right now. There’s a lot to choose from.

“It’s fine. She’s sick, so I hate not being able to check on her, but she can’t see me like this. Plus, he’ll be watching her place, I’m sure.”

I frown, because that hadn’t occurred to me before, but it definitely should have. Maybe I’ll ask Sav later if there’s anything we can do about it. Tobias’s grandmother getting caught in the crosshairs of that lunatic is the last thing anyone needs. I know if I ask him about it right now, it won’t help his anxiety, though.

“How much help does she need? Can anyone else take care of her for a while, if you say you had to go away for work, or something? Do you have a mom or dad?”

It’s the only way I’ll ever phrase that question, instead of ‘where’s your mom?’, because it’s neutral enough that someone can say ‘no’ and we leave it at that. I’m not forcing their hand at revealing whatever tragic story they have hidden inside them, because most of us have one.

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