Page 11 of Freedom
“Of course I am,” Jake snapped, anger flaring up. Fuck Roger for asking, seriously. “Do you think that’s something I candrop? Do you think I’m gonna blow everything off and road-trip the rest of my life?”
“People have,” Roger said, neutrally. “Sometimes they find a person, a reason for getting out. It’s not like you need your head checked for wanting a career with a retirement plan that doesn’t require dismemberment first.”
Jake blew out his breath. He didn’t know what their future looked like. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to hunt with Toby along, didn’t know if he’d have the stomach for the danger, bonfires, and bloodstains when he’d have to look Toby in the eye every day—or worse, if doing what he had been born to do would cost him Tobias. Christ, Jake knew the kid wasn’t a monster, but Toby had grown up with monsters in Freak Camp, so how would knowing Jake was killing supernaturals help him feel any safer around him or even make him someone Toby wanted to be around?
But it was what he was. Since Dad had sat him down and told him there were monsters and he killed them, Jake had never wanted, expected, or known himself to be anything but a hunter. He made the world safer so other people wouldn’t lose their moms, their children, or the people they loved. As long as he could walk and hold a weapon in his hand, he would be a hunter. Fuck, he would be a hunter in a wheelchair or a coma.
He hadn’t fired a gun in over two months.
And it was because right now, his biggest priority was taking care of Toby and making him feel safe and happy. That was his number one mission and a twenty-four-hour job right now, and he couldn’t just take a break from it, no matter how much he itched just to sayYeah, I can do the job. Because Toby couldn’t cope with that, not right now, and Jake had promised to stay with him, no matter where he had to be.
Dammit, it wasn’t easy, but there was no question of what he would do. He just hoped he wasn’t throwing away his entire life in a few words.
“I’m still a hunter, Roger,” he said at last. “I don’t know how long it’ll be, but I just gotta—I gotta make sure Toby’s okay, all right? I gotta get him to a place where... where he’s okay. Not even great, Roger, just... okay.”
“Huh.” Roger sounded skeptical. “Got a rough idea how long that’ll take? Six months, a year?”
“We’re not on a fucking timer, Roger.” It was like he was ten again, asking Leon for a camera, a few extra snacks, a couple of hours more in the camp to talk to his friend. “Toby was in that shithole for eleven years, do you get that? He hasn’t even been out for three months and we’re getting better every fucking day, and if some days ought to be salted and torched, and Toby’s kinda fragile about every fucking thing right now, I think that’s pretty goddamn normal. At least it is according to that book you sent me.”
“Watch your tone, boy.” There was no way Jake could ignore the warning in Roger’s voice.
He scrubbed his forehead, leaning his elbows on the railing. “Shit, okay, sorry, I shouldn’t have gone off on you. We just need time. Can I, like, take a break without being out of the game?”
“Course you can,” Roger said, suddenly gentle. “I get that. There don’t need to be a deadline either. Just wanted to see if you had a picture.”
Jake sighed, closed his eyes, and raked his fingernails over his scalp. “I’ll let you know. I’m coming back, Roger, I am, I just need to figure some shit out first.”
“Right. Well, no rush, plenty of hunters running on the ASC dime. Cub like you, shouldn’t take more than three, four other bastards to pick up the slack.”
Jake’s lips twitched in a smile. “Shut up, old man.”
“Watch yourself. This old man might save your neck one day.”
Jake snorted. “Maybe when I trade my baby for a PT Cruiser.”
“Don’t bet the farm, kid. And hey, that phone of yours does more than receive calls—I wanna hear from you every couple of weeks on this sightseeing tour, got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And if you run out of country and wind up showing him Wall Drug and the Badlands, swing on down here to New Mexico. You know you’ve got an open invitation here, just gimme a call before you swing by. Don’t want you tripping a bear trap while I’m away, it would be a pain in the ass to clean up.”
Jake smiled, relaxing. He hadn’t been sure if Roger wanted Tobias visiting, even if he had signed the papers. “Thanks, Roger, I appreciate that. We’ll definitely head your way eventually. We’re just taking it easy now.”Still heading east.
“All right. Take care, kid.”
Roger hung up, and Jake stood against the rail, trying to ignore the cold breeze tickling his bare calves.
Living with Tobias, watching his fear grow and swallow him when Jake tried to ignore what hurt, meant that he had learned to face down what unnerved him and not fucking run from it, no matter how much he wanted to turn away. So he would deal with the turmoil in his chest, not ignore it, not pretend this phone call hadn’t happened, because if he put off the question of whether he could keep hunting until it became vital for him to know, then that might mean finding the answer far too late to do what was necessary for Tobias. Whatever the hell that would be.
He had to think about it, but in that moment, the first step was to go back where Tobias was waiting for him and not panic him just because Jake felt like he’d been socked in the jaw by a yeti and wasn’t sure where he should go from there. Baby steps. Every day. And maybe someday, they’d get somewhere.
It took him five minutes, shivering slightly in the early autumn chill, before he could put the phone back in his jacket pocket and slide the key into the door.
~*~
Tobias couldn’t stoplistening to Jake. Even through the closed door, even when he lifted his hands to cover his ears, he could still hear bits and pieces of the conversation.
Jake wasn’t hunting because of Tobias. Because Tobias was weak, useless, and scared and couldn’t—no, that wasn’t true. Tobias could interact with reals. He had just that day.
