Page 17 of Running Feral

I hope I’m not forcing them, at least. That’s my intention.

Tobias scrunches up his face in a way that would be cute if it weren’t in such agonizing context. He lets out a sigh, and I’malready preparing to drop it when he answers the question with more than the ‘yes’ or ‘no’ I was expecting.

“My mom lives in Oklahoma on a rez. She married this guy who’s Chickasaw a long time ago and had three more kids with him. But one of my sisters has asthma and the easiest way for her to get healthcare is if they live there, so when Lola started to need help, it didn’t make sense for her to drag everyone back here and make all of us spend even more on medical bills. I was a lot older and getting in everybody’s way, anyway; it made sense for me to leave. Mom can’t leave the kids just to come up here and take care of my mess. I wouldn’t ask her to do that.”

Well, we don’t have time to unpack all that right now. But suppressing the urge to is really freaking difficult.

Tobias is still standing up, shifting awkwardly on his feet and chewing on the skin around his thumb in a way that belies his anxiety. He keeps swaying until I suddenly remember something.

“Shit, Tobias, your ankle. Why are you standing up? Come sit on the couch.”

I reach out to grab his elbow to help him balance, and for the fiftieth time since he showed up, I’m careless about it. My movement is sudden, and he flinches away. Which makes me jerk my hand back, and then we’re staring at each other.

Again.

The blank expression from before has been slowly chipped away, and I can see the churn of multiple conflicting emotions. All with a toxic coating of fear over the top. I want to reach for him again, but I already feel like I’m making the same mistakes again and again, so I don’t.

Tobias’s mouth is hanging open, and there’s a sudden rush of color to his face. I can see it like it’s happening in slow-motion—his cheeks flush, his jaw sets tight like he’s trying to control himself, and then his eyes are glossy.

I don’t know if it’s because I just scared him or because a bunch of other things just hit him at once, but it doesn’t matter.

“Oh, honey.” The endearment slips past my lips of its own volition.

I’m holding myself back from a lot of things right now, but that’s the small fight that I lost.

Tobias takes one rough breath. No tears are falling, but his eyes are shining and bloodshot, getting worse by the second. He keeps looking at my face before darting his gaze away, like he’s grappling with something inside himself as well.

Then he takes a step toward me, and I see the moment his resolve breaks. I reach for him again, but this time he doesn’t flinch. He curls into me, letting me wrap my arms around him and hold him close as he starts to shake. Not as bad as last night, but still bad.

His body sags in my grip, even though he’s still not crying. He’s clinging to me, but it’s weak and formless, and between that and his ankle, I’m worried he’s about to be taken by exhaustion and slide right down to the floor.

Without stopping to second-guess myself, I lean down a little to get a better grip on him and then hoist him up my body. It’s awkward, because he’s still a full-grown man, even if he’s smaller than me, but he unfolds into the hold immediately. His legs wrap around my hips and his arms are slung around my neck, as we press together from chest to hip so I can walk him over to the couch.

At least I go to the couch, not the bedroom. There. That’s a boundary.

Sort of.

He holds the same position, even once we’re sitting, and he feels like an anchor in my lap. Not in a bad way. Like something steadying that I want to orbit around forever.

Gunnar, youmuststop this.

This is pathetic. I’m an adult, and not only am I attracted to someone much younger than me and vulnerable, it’s apparently progressed to shitty high-school level poetic mooning.

But none of that knowledge stops me from stroking his hair while he breathes deeply and leans his weight into mine. He deserves at least that much.

I’m not sure how long we sit together for. Tobias doesn’t say anything, but I guess he rarely does. It’s long enough that my thoughts wander, and at some point, I remember that I’m supposed to be downstairs helping Sav open.

Shit.

I pull back as much as I can to get a look at Tobias’s face, which isn’t easy, considering I’m pinned between him and the couch.

“Hey,” I whisper. “How are you?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s looking at me, at least.

“I need to go downstairs soon—”

“I’m fine.”

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