Page 7 of Only the Small Bones
“Good morning. I mean, ah, afternoon?” I hadn’t intended for it to end as a question, but I also couldn’t recall what time it was. “I had some groceries delivered this morning. I didn’t know what you liked, so I got a little of everything. You must be starving.” I scanned his frame again, realizing starvation wasn’t new to him. He seemed about twenty pounds underweight. His broad shoulders hid the worst of his malnourishment.
“I’m not that great at cooking, but I’ve mastered the toaster. I can toast a bagel to perfection. Frozen waffles too. And boiled eggs. I can also make boiled eggs. I have a coffee machine as well. I bought Gatorade and some protein drinks, in case you can’t handle solids right now. The doctor suggested it. Or we can order in, or…” I knew I was rambling, but his blank expression unnerved me. Or maybe the blame belonged to his piercing eyes. They seemed to see right through me.
“Are you hungry?” I whispered. “Or maybe you want to shower first? Feeling refreshed helps sometimes.”
He blinked, flushing before subtly angling his head to the right and sniffing himself. I hadn’t meant to imply that he smelled, but who knew if they’d been allowed to bathe during their long journey here. I thought it might help to shower all that off of him. He backed away, the stain of his embarrassment still blemishing his skin.
“I didn’t mean to—”
He darted away in the middle of my apology. I followed after giving him a head start, but he’d already closed his bedroom door by the time I made it there. I called his name. He didn’t answer, didn’t so much as grunt in response. I knocked next, and the door creaked open under my fist. The sound of running water trickled over to me from his bathroom, and I debated the pros and cons of stepping into his space without permission.
My gaze landed on the strips of white cotton dangling from the bedpost. I thought about hiding them, about cutting them free and tossing them in the trash. There were more sheets where that came from, though. I also didn’t want him to think I disapproved, that I judged him. However he needed to cope, I’d let him—to an extent.
Deciding not to intrude on his territory, I eased the door closed and headed to the kitchen. It felt pointless to wait for himto tell me what he wanted to eat since it seemed he wouldn’t speak. I made the decision myself.
Ignoring the clock, which said I should’ve been making dinner, I dropped two waffles and a bagel into the toaster. While that heated up, I piled some fruit into a bowl, and filled a glass with milk.
I plated the food then set it on the island before grabbing the syrup, butter, and cream cheese. At the last second, I placed a bottle of water next to his milk, and dropped a granola bar near his silverware.
Ryan didn’t make any noise when he walked, but I could feel his approach. I considered rushing over to the couch and feigning interest in the deluge of rain coming down outside. Anything to not be caught in the kitchen and deter him from eating. The kitchen overlooked the living room, though, so he’d still be on display. I needed him to eat, which meant I needed to be out of sight. Left with no other options, I crept around the corner and into the dining room, pressing my back to the wall there.
The silence stretched as I held my breath, wondering if I’d imagined sensing him coming down the hall. He should’ve been seated by now, yet the stool legs hadn’t scraped against the floor. I pictured his first bite being tentative, but he should’ve taken it by now.
The illogical part of my brain said I should’ve heard the crunch of bagel or waffle, the sip and swallow of milk or water. There was nothing but the sound of rain hitting the windows and my heart beating too fast.
The air grew thick with tension, and the sensation of being watched—of being caught—made my palms grow sweaty.
I knew what I’d find if I came out of hiding. Knew what I’d come toe-to-toe with. Turning slowly, I tapped my foreheadagainst the wall and internally groaned. Maybe I could’ve waited him out, but the suspense had me on edge.
When I stepped into view, Ryan’s eyes were already pinned in my direction. He probably sensed me in the same way I’d sensed him. His chest rose and fell with his shallow breaths as he looked between the food and me. Clear distrust and confusion sparked in his raven colored gaze.
“I thought you’d want some privacy,” I said, sticking to the archway. “I guess I should’ve just asked.” It seemed so simple then. I made a note to never assume anything on his behalf again. “So,wouldyou rather be alone?”
I crossed over the kitchen’s threshold, still keeping my distance. He sucked in a sharp breath, shuffling back.
“You have to be hungry,” I whispered. His stomach let out a growl. Ryan stiffened, pressing a palm against his abdomen. His fingers curled into a fist, letting me know the pink blotches decorating his cheeks were from anger this time. I got the impression he thought admitting to hunger equated to a show of vulnerability.
“It’s okay,” I assured him, moving forward with caution. “You can eat. Eat as much, or as little as you want. Truth is, I’m hungry too. I was going to eat after you.” Maybe he’d rather we ate together? “Actually, I think I’ll make myself another bagel now.” I’d already tossed my other one into the trash. “It’s officially been twenty-four hours since I last ate. I’m feeling a little lightheaded.” How long had it been since he ate? One day without food probably made me sound privileged from his perspective.
Ryan’s curls were wet and heavy, dipping below his ears. Droplets of water fell from the ends, soaking into the t-shirt I’d pulled from the closet dresser for him last night. This close, I could see the wet shimmer of his eyelashes too. Striking hadbeen the wrong word to describe him. Ryan was beautiful, but in a wild animal sort of way.
It was hard to tell with the constant hard set of his features. Whatever softness he may have once possessed, life had beat it out of him.
I grabbed the sleeve of bagels from the bread basket on the counter, splitting one in half before popping both ends into the toaster. “I like cream cheese on mine,” I said, making easy conversation as I moved around the kitchen, pretending his suspicious gaze wasn’t trained on me.
With my fresh mug of coffee and bagel plated, I settled onto a stool and dug in. Anxiety made it difficult to swallow down the bite, but I did it, washing it down with a sip of steaming French Roast.
Ryan took his first reluctant step closer to the island, then rocked back as though his mind and hunger weren’t in agreement. I faked being too consumed with my food to notice, nearly choking on my next bite of bagel when he nudged his plate of food toward me.
“Um, I don’t think I can eat all that.” I set my bagel down and dusted the crumbs off my hands. “Besides, what will you eat if I do?” There was plenty where that came from, but I had to trysomethingto get him to eat. I pushed it back in his direction, but he shoved it back in mine, his face set with determination. That’s when it hit me… Ryan thought I’d drugged his food.
“You think I’ve put something in your food?” I couldn’t keep the shock from my tone. Of course he thought that. It was how they got you to comply, especially when they needed to move you. “I would never do that to you. You can trust me.” I winced at his vacant, but somehow mocking glare. Hecouldn’ttrust me. I hadn’t given him much reason to yet.
Reaching over, I poured syrup onto one of his waffles, meeting his eyes as I bit down on one corner, chewing andswallowing before moving on to the bagel. The sip of water was welcomed, but unless it was in coffee, milk made me gag. I guzzled down half the glass anyway. Lastly, I scooped up his butter knife and added some of his condiments to my partially eaten bagel before taking another bite.
His ragged breathing began to slow the longer I remained clear-eyed. Ryan sat, staring at his food with something other than suspicion now. He looked at my coffee mug, then over my shoulder, then back to me.
I stood to fulfill his wordless request, trying to play it cool while blood raced through my veins with every beat of my heart. “I’m not sure how you like it, but I’ll make it the way I take it.” I added a splash of milk from his cup, since I’d already tested that, then grabbed the sugar bowl. I dipped a finger in, licking it clean to prove it wasn’t tainted before adding a teaspoon to his mug. I did the same with the powdered cocoa and drizzle of hazelnut syrup.
