Page 63 of Redeeming Rabbit

“Good.” I stared him down. “Because I will, too.”

He searched my eyes and nodded, waving me off with a hand. “Be sure you tellhimthat. He’s in his room. That’s where he always goes.”

Always.As in, this happened often. I was still trying to digest that tidbit when Morse added, “I hope you’re a warrior because he’s worth fighting for.”

“Wait. Is there anything I should know?”

“Sage can help him.”

I nodded numbly, unable to speak. That must have been the extent of advice he was willing to share, because Morse stood aside. I slid past him, hurrying to the stairs. Rabbit’s door was closed when I reached it. I knocked and called out his name. No answer. I tried the doorknob, surprised when it turned. Filling my lungs with air to shield me against what I’d find, I opened the door and slipped in. The room was dark. I slapped for the light switch before remembering that wasn’t how things worked around here.

“Welcome to Flaccid Avenue.”

I blinked as the lights turned on, taking in the room in screen shots. Rabbit’s suit jacket lay across the bed, but there was no sign of the man. Curious, I looked around, preparing to march back downstairs and wring Rabbit’s actual location from the tech guru. Movement from the closet caught my attention. I crept over and peered in. Both rolling door panels were pushed to one side. Rabbit sat huddled in the dark corner behind them, his head resting on his knees, thighs pressed to his chest.

“Roger?” I asked.

When he didn’t respond, I rolled the closet doors to the opposite side. Still no reaction. Eyes squeezed shut, lips muttering, his tense body rocked back and forth.

This wasn’t drugs.

My experience with recreational drugs was limited, but I’d seen people jacked up on molly and Adderall, and none of them had looked like this. Rabbit seemed… terrified. He was trembling.

This looked like a panic attack. I’d seen plenty of those before. One of my college roommates used to get them while she was waiting on her grades. They never got this bad, but she had a prescription to help her manage them.

Rabbit rarely leaves club property. He left for you. He can’t handle crowds outside these walls, yet he tried. For you.

Morse’s words came back to me like puzzle pieces fitting into place. Was this a panic attack? Rabbit was here, yet not. I settled a hand on his shoulder, and he didn’t so much as stir.

Where were his people?

Morse was clearly aware that Rabbit was going through something, yet he’d left Rabbit alone. If I wasn’t so worried about my zany biker, I’d march downstairs and give the tech asshole a piece of my mind.

Then again, it was probably some stupid bro code thing. Like seeing another heterosexual man’s vulnerability would make their balls fall off.

I needed to stop trying and convicting everyone in my head. I should have known he wouldn’t have used drugs.

The material of my dress was scratchy on the outside, so I removed it and lowered myself to sit next to him in my provocative lingerie. Had he been lucid, he would have ravaged me by now. Rabbit looked at me like I was carbon. Like without me the world would cease to exist.

I needed to stop letting the length of our acquaintance minimize the depth of our feelings.

“Roger? I hope this is okay.” Draping my arm over his shoulder, I pulled him close. He was rigid and unresponsive, nothing like the man who’d kept finding reasons to touch me over the past week. Physical touch had to be his primary love language, but now, not even my body draped around him could trigger a response. Worried, I moved to my knees and wrapped my arms around him, my breast pressed against his arm as I nuzzled the side of his neck. He smelled like Rabbit: a mix of sandalwood, leather, and motor oil that made me feel lightheaded. I squeezed closer, breathing him in.

He tried. For you.

“You should have told me you were struggling,” I told his unresponsive form. My eyes burned, making me want to close them. Instead, I watched him for signs of comprehension. “I could have helped you.” This didn’t have to happen. He didn’t have to be huddled in his closet alone. No wonder his self-image was shit.

Realization dawned, stinging my eyes. “You hide because you don’t want anyone to know.” I laid my cheek against his shoulder. “Dammit, Roger. Why? Are you too proud to ask for help?”

Predictably, he still didn’t answer, but his muscles shifted beneath my cheek. A violent tremble shook his frame, reminding me rabbits weren’t prideful creatures. They were anxious little animals that ran and hid at the first sight of danger. Was that how he saw himself? Why his road name was Rabbit? I blinked away tears.

He moved again, and I reluctantly released my hold around him. As my hands slid down to my sides, I leaned back to take him in. “Roger? You with me now?”

The arms holding his knees to his chest loosened and fell away. One leg slowly straightened, stretching out in front of him before the second joined it. His movements were notably stiff as he leaned his upper body against the wall. When his eyelids finally opened, he stared straight ahead.

“Yeah.” The word was barely above a whisper. He cleared his throat. “I’m here.”

He still wouldn’t look at me.

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