Page 14 of Fear
It was easier to come back to himself surrounded by tangible physical sensations: sunshine, a light breeze, the rough wall behind him, concrete beneath him, and Jake’s hand steady on his shoulder. Tobias put everything else out of his mind and focused on being alive, not in pain, and with Jake. Though when he finally risked a glance at Jake’s face, Tobias had to fight down another surge of panic. He had never imagined Jake looking like that—scared. And Tobias had done that.
“Okay,” Jake said at last. He did not sound okay. Tobias could see it was not okay. “You—you’re all right now, Tobias. Feeling better.”
Tobias nodded fervently, though he had to shut his eyes again and felt inches from vomiting. He wouldn’t do that, he had more self-control than to vomit over Jake’s shoes—that would certainly be the end at once, if it wasn’t already here.
With a shudder, he jerked his thoughts away from the possibility that this was the end. He couldn’t think about that right now, not when his control was so threadbare.
“Okay,” Jake said again, and rubbed his shoulder in a quick motion. “I’m . . . going to get you a water, okay?” He stood, starting to move away, and Tobias’s eyes snapped open as he lunged forward, seizing Jake’s jacket. A part of himself was appalled—You can’t act like that, filthy monster, can’t grab Jake in public, should barely look at him—but he couldn’t stop himself.
Jake knelt back down immediately, grabbing and squeezing Tobias’s hand in one of his and resting his other warm palm on the back of Tobias’s neck. “Hey, hey. It’s all right, I’m not—I’m not going anywhere, Toby.”
Tobias shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He was being so pathetic in front of Jake, doing all the wrong things . . .
“Listen to me,” Jake said, in a low, soothing voice. “We’re right outside the grocery store, okay? There’s no one around—no one even watching us. I’m not going to let anyone touch you or come near you, Toby. It’s just us, and we’re okay. There’s a vending machine six feet away, right there, you can see it. I’m going to walk over, stick some quarters in, and get you a water. Nothing’s going to happen to you when I get up. You’ll be able to see me the whole time.”
At last, Tobias nodded, and with a supreme effort of will, he made himself let go of Jake’s jacket, tucking both hands between his knees and pressing tight. Jake stayed for a moment, rubbing Tobias’s neck and shoulders until his breath evened out again. Only then, slowly, did Jake get up. Tobias didn’t move a muscle, keeping his hands between his knees and his eyes level with Jake’s calves.
Jake walked to the vending machine—Tobias could see him the whole time, just as he’d promised—and came back with a water for Tobias and a soda can for himself. He sat down beside Tobias, their shoulders touching. With difficulty, Tobias released his hands to take the bottle and unscrew the top. The water was cold and very good, and Tobias focused only on how good Jake was to him instead of the easily retrievable supply of clean water inside the black box.
When the bottle was half empty, Jake—who had been rolling his soda can between his hands—exhaled. “All right. So, game plan—I take you back home, then swing back around to pick up the basics, and we’ll stay in tonight. I’ll . . . make hamburgers, and then we’ll . . .” Jake rubbed his forehead.
Watching him, Tobias felt a different, more familiar knot of anxiety twisting up his insides. It was so wrong for Jake to look like this, so worn down and uncertain. Was being around a monster really taking its toll on him that fast, even on someone as strong as Jake, after only three days?
Tobias swallowed, pushing past the trepidation and whispers that told him all he should ever say was yes, Jake, and said instead, “You . . . you don’t have to take me back now if you need to buy things here. I’ll—I’ll be okay now.” I’ll be good, I promise.
Jake peered at him through the fingers of his hand, worry visible on his face even though his eyes were shadowed. “You sure? You don’t have to go back in. You could wait in the Eldorado if you wanted.”
“No.” Not that he didn’t like being in Jake’s car—it was the best place he could be, other than the apartment with Jake—but he didn’t want to sit alone in that vast parking lot where anyone could look at him and see a monster where he shouldn’t be. Besides, he was sure the shock (he had never, ever dreamed so much food existed, let alone in one place) had made him fall apart like that. Now, he could push it down the same way he controlled his reactions to what he saw, did, or felt in a Wednesday session. Only the first time was he ever so vulnerable. “No,” he said, clearly. “I want to go back.”
Jake watched him with sharp skepticism, like he wasn’t sure he could trust Tobias. But of course he couldn’t trust any monster. Tobias was glad he knew that. “You positive? I wouldn’t mind taking you home.”
Tobias shook his head. He was determined to prove to Jake he could learn, adjust, do whatever Jake wanted. He didn’t go through months of training to be this weak. “No, I’m ready now.” He twisted the cap back on the bottle and stood, Jake rising quickly with him and slipping a hand behind his back.
“Hey, hey, take it easy, there’s no fire.”
It was so overwhelmingly good for Jake to offer him that, even now, that Tobias bit his lip and dropped his head until he had control again. “I’m ready,” he said softly.
Jake didn’t protest again but turned them to walk slowly back inside the store. Despite being braced for it, Tobias felt a wave of dizziness when they passed through the doors and under the cold fan; once again his hand moved without permission, catching hold of the hem of Jake’s jacket. That was all, but he knew better than to think Jake wouldn’t notice, that Jake wouldn’t shake a freak off, though maybe in a way that wouldn’t draw attention from other reals.
To his shock, Jake didn’t hit him or order him to let go—Tobias could have then, but somehow, he couldn’t get his fingers to relax of their own accord. But Jake gently disentangled Tobias’s fingers, and then folded his hand around Tobias’s—not crushingly hard, just there, here where anyone could see. His hand was warm, firm, so everything Jake that Tobias had ever known.
That wonder was more than enough distraction from the aisles and aisles of food in the vast store that would surely swallow him if he looked up or if Jake stepped away. Tobias didn’t raise his eyes; it was all he could manage to keep his feet moving behind Jake’s, stopping when Jake stopped. He was okay now, though. He was more certain of that than he had been since Jake first drove away with him from Freak Camp.
Jake didn’t talk to him again in the store, but he also didn’t let go of Tobias’s hand until they reached the checkout line. Tobias knew that the hour of grace was over even before Jake squeezed his hand and let go to start piling items onto the conveyor belt. Tobias was still okay, though, quiet and calm. Maybe also stunned. Why would Jake do that for him in public, with other reals around? But he had, and that reassured Tobias: if Jake would do that, even after Tobias had fallen apart on him and been so utterly useless and unreliable, then maybe he didn’t have to fear being taken back to Freak Camp tonight.
ONCE THEY HAD EVERYTHING loaded into the Eldorado’s backseat and Jake had shoved the cart off into an open parking space, Tobias slipped into the passenger seat and curled against the door, locking his eyes into the inside of his right hand as he pressed it to his forehead, as though the sight of anything outside the window was fucking unbearable.
Jake tried to focus on driving. The novelty of concentrating on making scrupulously safe turns, maintaining the speed limit, and using his turn signals was nearly enough to distract him from the way Tobias huddled against the window, one white-knuckled fist clenched in his lap. His posture indicated pain—Jake had curled up that way once or twice when a hunt had gone sideways and both he and Dad were banged up bloody—or an instinct to shield himself from the next attack.
Damn, Jake was so stupid, he’d get a call any day now to pick up his Idiot of the Year Award for being a complete waste of headspace. But he hadn’t known. He could figure out a haunted object with a handful of pointed questions or know from a casual glance which babe at the bar was a sure bet, but he hadn’t seen this coming, even though the warning signs had been all over the place. Practically a train whistle telling him to get the fuck off the tracks. But he hadn’t seen any of it, and now Tobias looked like he had internal bleeding, wouldn’t look at him, would barely move, and it was all Jake’s fault.
It was never supposed to be like this, with Tobias afraid to look him in the eye, afraid to speak, reduced to grabbing at Jake’s jacket like it was a life vest that couldn’t hold their combined weight. Jake would do anything to make Tobias feel safe, but maybe he didn’t have enough to give.
But he was it. The only line of defense between Tobias and the world. And even though that was going to be a hell of a lot more work than he had thought—What, Hawthorne, you thought it would be fucking easy? That Tobias would be easy?—he wasn’t going to give up, not one single fucking inch.
When they pulled into their parking spot in front of their apartment, Jake turned off the car and leaned his head back, staring up at the headliner like the car itself could give him strength. Like that could make him enough for Tobias when he didn’t know that anything could make Jake enough for anybody. When he looked over, Tobias’s gaze was nervous, broken, wide-eyed, hopeful, like Jake wasn’t the greatest fuck-up in the world, and just . . . Jake.
“Hey,” Jake said. “Let’s get the groceries inside.”
