Page 26 of Surrender

I just wish I knew what it was.

“Let go,” Fox hisses. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

The words shouldn’t hurt, but I find they do. Still, I’m not going to take out my frustration on him. “Then don’t talk,” I say quietly. “I’ll still be here.”

He glares at me, but stays quiet until he’s in bed again, face down and completely naked. I grab a pair of boxers from the dresser, holding it out to him. “Do you need help getting them on?”

“I’m not putting them on. Just go away.” Fox clings to the pillow, hiding his face from me. “Just… fucking leave if you aren’t going to fuck me.”

I put the boxers back into the dresser, going to pull the sheet up until it’s right beneath his ass cheeks. “No,” I say. I pull my phone out and text the doctor. Once he confirms he’s on the way, I tuck the phone back into my pocket. “The last thing you need right now is to be alone.” The more I look at him, the more I hear him, the more certain I am.

Tentatively, I reach out to stroke his tousled red hair. He tenses and lifts his arm as if to bat my hand away, but he drops it again.

“Stop,” Fox says, his voice rough. “You already… you already said you weren’t going to fuck me, so why are you touching me now?”

I have to swallow hard around the lump in my throat as I stare down at his bloody back. It evokes feelings in me that I can’t quite explain, making me feel torn between guilt and exultation that I was able to hurt him without him protesting—with him simply begging me to continue.

“Touch doesn’t have to be about sex, Fox,” I say softly. “I would like to try to comfort you however I can until the doctor gets here. I’m not… I’m not not fucking you because I don’t want to. I do want to. But you’re too badly injured.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Fox lets out a shuddering breath. “It really doesn’t matter. It’s fine. I’m not weak, or…” His next breath sounds like a sob.

“You’re definitely not weak,” I tell him, wanting to keep stroking his hair but faltering as I try to figure out what would help him the most. I recognize it in him, though—he’s experienced trauma, just like I have, and he’s doing his best to survive in a world that doesn’t pause to let you catch your breath when terrible things happen.

“This isn’t me.” Fox buries his head in the pillow. “I don’t need you. Go away.”

Looking at him reminds me of myself so many years before, but I hadn’t had someone at my side. I’d been left alone to grieve my losses, to patch up my wounds, and I’d always wished I’d had someone. But are we that similar? Am I projecting my own thoughts onto him, or does he really need someone here right now?

“I’m going to sit here until the doctor arrives,” I say quietly. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, but I don’t want you to be alone, Fox.”

Fox clutches the pillow tighter, not saying anything.

I simply watch him, tracing the line of his ass and back and trembling shoulders.

Soft, muffled noises filter into the room.

He’s crying.

I’ve been called a lot of things, but soft has never been one of them. Yet here I am, feeling completely and utterly gone for this boy—this red-headed brat who’d tried to kill me—and his tears threaten to break even my cold heart.

I can’t help it then. I touch his hair, stroking the strands softly, and murmur, “It’s all right. I won’t ever tell anyone.”

“I’ll kill you if you do,” Fox answers, half laughing, half sobbing. “And I won’t miss this time.”

“Of course, of course,” I say, unable to keep myself from smiling. “They wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

Just like no one would believe that I might have something resembling a heart.

I keep patting him gently until the doctor arrives, wondering just what I’ve gotten myself into.

CHAPTER EIGHT

CRISTIANO

It kills me to leave Fox alone, but the doctor had been vehement about him needing to recover. He’d also been very unimpressed with Fox’s new bruises, but I refuse to be ashamed of what I did.

The only regret I have is that Fox’s wounds opened like that.

Briar is keeping watch while I go take care of the business I’ve been neglecting for over a week now, which they are utterly not pleased about, but I don’t pay them to like what they’re doing.

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