Page 67 of Running Feral

“Yeah, well I’ve had a lot on my mind. Tobias is back and alive, in case you didn’t know. If you care.”

Sav’s expression darkens, and when he leans in toward me, I get the barest glimpse into the kind of man he used to be before he changed. The violence that simmers underneath his normally tranquil surface.

I’m not very easily intimidated, but it’s enough to make my breath catch.

He seems to realize it though and backs off after only a few seconds.

“I did know. I’m glad,” he says, sounding carefully neutral. “Now you can both move on with your lives.”

I frown, but my head is so full of angry static, I feel like I’m only hearing half the words he says. “Sure, until Eamon comes back, and we do this all over again.”

Because that. That’s the thing that’s driving me insane. Living in limbo like this; never able to truly settle. Will Eamon come back? Will Tobias move on from the trauma? Will Tobias move on from me, or am I just a stopgap?

It’s all too much to juggle emotionally, so I settle for a blanket of seething rage instead and picture Eamon’s head exploding like a water balloon.

“I should have killed that motherfucker,” I mutter to myself.

I’m pretty sure Sav hears me, but apart from arching an eyebrow, he doesn’t say anything.

After that, things are quiet. I seethe. Sav helps prep. Kasia shows up and eventually we open to the same steady stream of locals that we normally serve at this time of day.

Time stretches on and on, and I do my best to put on the mask of the affable, mentally stable bar owner and not obsess about what Tobias might be doing upstairs.

By the end of the night, I’m so exhausted I can barely see straight. We’re still not technically closed, but Kasia kicks me out, calling me a ‘little bitch’ because my brooding is giving her anxiety. I’m glad for the reprieve from having to talk to people, even though talking to people is normally one of my favorite parts of the job.

I think I just need to see for myself that Tobias is okay, and then get some sleep.

Of course, I haven’t even made it up the stairs before my phone rings. I jump to answer it, in case it’s the police with news or the insurance company with an update, even though only my sleep-addled brain would think any of that would happen this late at night.

No. It’s my mother. Which immediately makes me heave out a giant sigh, then flood with guilt for that being my first reaction.

I haven’t gone to visit her since everything started. Normally, I see her once a week. Which means I haven’t missed that much, because Tobias has only been staying with me for…

Wow. It’s incredible to think how much my life has changed in a couple of weeks. I can’t go back to being the person I was before, though, pretending I didn’t care about him as much as I do. It would be futile.

“Hi, Mom,” I say when I finally get the balls to slide my thumb over and accept the call.

“There you are. I was beginning to think you were dead. I haven’t heard from you in weeks.”

She sounds more irked than concerned, but I ignore it.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been helping a friend with some legal issues, and it’s been distracting. I should have called.”

She’s silent. There’s a lot said in that silence that I don’t want to hear, and I find myself rubbing at my temples as I stare at the peeling paint next to the staircase. I want to finish getting upstairs and be done with the day, not go fourteen rounds on what is and isn’t an appropriate way to spend my life.

“I hope you’re staying out of trouble.” The terseness is unmistakable.

“Of course. I’m just trying to help someone out who’s in trouble.”

She doesn’t say anything but makes a huffing noise that’s so familiar I can picture the exact face she must be making right now. Like she’s sucking on a lemon.

“Meddling does more harm than good. I thought you’d learned your lesson by now.”

The white-hot rage that swells up in me is so entirely disproportionate to what she says, I’m a little shocked by it. It’s yet another sign that I’m quickly spiraling out of control. Gritting my teeth, I decide I have no patience left for platitudes.

“Look, it’s late. You should be in bed and I’m exhausted. I’ll come visit soon. I can’t talk right now.”

I don’t bother to say ‘goodbye’ before hanging up the phone, because I don’t think my mouth will form the shape.

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