Page 50 of The Bones in the Yard

Another soft whimper.

“You should at least try to eat something,” I said gently.

His arm tightened around me, but he didn’t say anything.

“I can order food, if you want. Or make you something.”

“Not hungry,” he whispered.

“I know. But you need calories.”

I felt him sigh. “Alfredo?” he asked, softly.

I swallowed about four times before I was capable of speaking around the ball of emotion blocking my throat. “I can do that.”

I felt him shift a little, and loosened my arms so he could turn and look up at me. His hair had come loose from its queue, and I brushed a strand that had fallen in front of his cheek behind his ear, gently, so I wouldn’t hurt him.

The eyes that looked up at me were a little red. “I don’t have anything,” he whispered.

“You want me to order from somewhere?”

A head shake. “I—want yours.” His voice was so small. So uncertain.

I swallowed a couple times so that mine didn’t break when I spoke. “Okay. You want brownies with that?”

He nodded.

I ran a hand over his head. “Obviously,” I teased, earning the tiniest quirk of his lips, although then he winced as it pulled on the split. “Okay. Grocery run. You’re sure you’ll be okay?” Even though his face was battered, I couldn’t help myself, and I gently ran my thumb across his less-scraped cheek.

He nodded, although he didn’t move, either.

I didn’t ask him to.

It was probably another five minutes before he eased himself off me, sliding over to the other side of the futon. I let him, although I put my hand on his back as he hunched over his knees.

I wanted to ask him, again, if he was sure he was okay. If he was sure he didn’t want me to call Doc. Or take him to an ER, or at least urgent care. If he was sure he didn’t want me to stay.

I wanted to stay. I wanted to just order a fucking pizza or six and not have to leave him.

But he stayed hunched over and silent, which said to me that he wanted me to go.

I swallowed down the seventeen things I wanted to say, then just stood up and walked back to the door.

“Hart?” His voice was soft, almost frightened. It hit me like a kick to the stomach.

“Yeah?”

“Take my keys.” He’d dropped them on the little table just inside the door.

“Okay,” I agreed. At least that meant he wanted me to come back.

I picked them up and softly shut the door, then locked it. Taavi didn’t need to be stressing about someone coming into his apartment after the day he’d already had.

And then I had to stop in the hallway and lean up against the wall so I didn’t pass out.

Physically, I was fine. Emotionally, I was very, verynotfine. But it also wasn’t about me. This was about Taavi, and I needed to big-elf pants it up and just go to the store. I could freak out in the privacy of my own bathroom later. Right now, I needed to not be a selfish prick.

So I pushed myself away from the wall and forced myself to walk down the hall, down the stairs, and out to my car. I texted Raj and Ward and told both of them that Taavi was alive, just so I didn’t have Raj kicking my door down and scaring the shit out of my cat at three in the morning. And so that Ward didn’t worry.

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