Page 18 of The Care of Broken Things
“The same ones who came after you?”
He nodded.
Eli’s hold relaxed a little, or maybe it was more accurate to say that it changed. The grip on his shoulders was no longer restraint. “Like I said, I won’t let anything happen. Not to me, and not to you either. So stop it. Okay? I promise we’ll figure it out, but not like this. You’ll kill me a lot faster than any of these bastards will.”
And then he pulled him into a hug.
But Samuel didn’t want a hug. His overtired, overstimulated, and over-stressed body couldn’t handle a hug from a man like Eli. He broke free. “None of them touched you while I was gone?”
“No.”
He searched that face, and Eli crossed his arms and waited for him to be satisfied. Samuelwasn’tsatisfied, but neither could he find a lie. “What time is it? Did I miss breakfast?”
“Yes. But I put a tray aside for you. Well, two trays. I figure they can’t get pissed at me for taking one even if I can’t eat it.”
“Then why take one?”
“Because you’re the size of a barn. Also, Rat told me you like those cardboard disks they call pancakes. I can’t imagine why. Whenever I see you eating this stuff, I want to dash it out of your hands.”
Eli had started walking, and he found himself following for no better reason than that there seemed to be an invisible string connecting the two of them together. Eli led them back to the barracks, and the trays were sitting on Eli’s bunk. Rookie move, or so he thought, but then he saw Rat leaning against the bed, watching them.
“Thanks, Michael,” Eli said and flashed him a smile.
He had to tamp down on the urge to punch his bunkmate. He didn’t like those smiles being handed about so freely. “Stop calling him that. It’s weird.”
“How is it weird to call someone by their name? Now sit and eat. You look like you’re about to start gnawing on the bed.”
He was pushed down onto the bunk and then the tray was pushed into his hands.
“Can’t eat in front of others? Nathaniel used to be the same way.”
But Eli’s eyes weren’t the problem. He was staring at the tray. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
“They served this at breakfast?”
The words left his mouth, but he didn’t believe them. No way had the kitchen ever served anything so good. He saw the pancakes—and hardly recognized them. They’d been turned into what looked like ice cream sandwiches. He picked one up and bit into it. Not ice cream, but whipped cream. And something else. He peeled the top pancake off and found bits ofbroken up Reese’s cups staring up at him.
It was the best thing he’d tasted in five years.
“Of course not,” Rat said. Why was he still around? “Gordan Ramsey here pulled some real magic out of his ass. I never heard of someone making cream out of milk and butter, but he managed it. He must have whipped that shit for half an hour at least. I thought his arm was going to fall off before—”
“Never mind that,” Eli said and made a little shooing motion to send Rat away. “Just eat.”
But he couldn’t eat. There was a lump in his throat. He stared down at his tray. It wasn’t just the pancakes. His canned peaches had also been mixed with the cream, and what looked like dried strawberries had been thrown in as well.
“He picked them out of those boxes of Special K they have in commissary,” Rat said when he saw him looking. Because, of course, he hadn’t gone anywhere. He was enjoying the show too much. “And he made the chocolate milk by melting down a Hershey bar.”
“Do you always give his meals a blow-by-blow?” Eli asked. He sounded exasperated. Or maybe it was embarrassment. Samuel wasn’t paying much attention. His eggs looked different too. Fuller, somehow. He tasted a forkful and tilted his head.
“For the eggs, he—”
Eli actually shoved at Rat’s shoulder. “Let him eat already. Go.”
So Rat went, but he shot Samuel a look full of waggling eyebrows and insinuation first. He barely noticed. His appetite had roared to life like a California forest fire, and it was taking all his control not to wolf the food down in savage tasteless bites. Maybe the regular cafeteria food deserved that, but this needed to be savored. He wished he wasn’t so hungry.
He set the tray aside and stood.
“What? No good?”
