Page 28 of A Series of Rooms
Liam’s eyes dropped to Jonah’s arms as soon as he opened the door, which he knew was going to happen. Jonah had been dreading it all day, knowing there was no way to hide the evidence or avoid the confrontation. In addition to its inadequacy against the brutal temperatures, his threadbare t-shirt betrayed a collage of bruises mottled along both arms, reaching a peakat the wrists.
He curled in on himself, but even the pressure of crossing his arms over his body triggered a flare of pain. For once, he wished he would have taken Liam up on his offer to keep his borrowed hoodie between visits. Jonah never wanted to risk it getting damaged or stolen at the shelter, and he could admit, if only to himself, that he didn’t want it to lose its familiar, comforting scent. He didn’t want it to stop smelling like Liam.
Just this once, though, it would have been nice to be able to cover up.
“I’m fine.” He kept his gaze leveled on the carpet as he stepped into the room, kicking off his shoes in the corner. “Just had a bad night.”
“‘A bad...?’ Jonah, you’re covered in bruises.” Liam closed the door behind them, following him into the room.
“It looks worse than it is,” he lied.
“It looks like someone beat the shit out of you.”
“Maybe someone did.”
They both stopped moving. Jonah’s eyes fell to the pile of clothes on the bed. The usual thick sweatpants and the maroon sweatshirt. Having them in such close proximity made him ache for their warmth. He usually waited until after he showered, wanting to rinse away the grime of his week before touching Liam’s things, but tonight...
“Can I put them on?” he asked.
“What?” Liam said, then followed his line of sight to the clothes. His eyes, hard with worry, softened. “Of course,” he said, picking up the pile and handing it over.
Jonah bit down on a groan as he lifted his arms over his head to pull the shirt into place. The flare of pain was worth enduring for the immediate comfort.
Liam wasn’t ready to let it drop.
“Was this. . . ?” Liam swallowed audibly. “Did one of your. . . the guys you go to see. . . ?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?” Jonah asked with more heat than he’d intended.
Silence. Liam pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth, watching him.
“Jonah,” he said. “I know you don’t like to talk about it, but if you decide you want to go to the police to get help, the offer is always on the table. I’ll go with you. You know I will.”
“Liam,” he warned.
“I know,” he said quickly. “I know, I won’t push, okay? I just hate seeing you like this. I hate knowing what you go back to when you leave here.”
“It’s not always like this.”
“The fact that it’ssometimeslike this is bad enough.”
Jonah was quiet in the face of that truth.
“Is there anything I can do to make it better?” Liam asked. When Jonah looked up to meet his gaze, there were tiny splotches of red forming at the corners of Liam’s eyes. “Anything at all?”
He thought if Liam started crying right now—crying because ofhim—it might snap his last threads of composure. Jonah took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose.
“I’m okay,” he promised, tamping down on the small voice inside him that wanted to cry out,help me, help me, help me.“I just don’t want to think about it tonight. Please.”
At length, Liam nodded, conceding. “Yeah,” he said, blinking away the start of tears. “Okay. Whatever you need.” He cleared his throat, reaching for his backpack beside the bed. “Lucky for you, I come bearing hours worth of distractions.”
When he lifted his calculus textbook into view, Jonah smiled, ignoring the tug on his split lip.
“Making me understand mathematical concepts is a full-time job,” Liam said, and they both ignored the watery shake to his voice. “I assure you, your mind will be fully consumed.”
Jonah sank down on the edge of the bed, concealing a wince. “I’m up for the challenge.”
CHAPTER 12
