Page 15 of We Are Yours

“He’s a lot,” he somberly announced, taking a step back to give me some space before acknowledging the IV on the floor. “Roland would have taken that out. He only lives down the street.”

My face furrowed a bit, and he understood my soundless expression, informing, “He’s the doctor who fixed you up on our dining room table.”

My stare widened.

“You’ll be okay. At least physically.”

Did he know? No, how can he know?

“Your backpack is in my closet.” He gestured to it behind me. “I didn’t want to go through your things. It’s why you’re wearing my shirt.”

I stood there, listening intently to what he was saying.

Leaning against his dresser, he coaxed, “You can stay here as long as you want. And not just in my room, but the house. Don’t worry about Kraven. He’s my problem, not yours, alright?”

Unsure of where this was going, I held his gaze.

It was enough for him to understand. “I’ll sleep in my parents’ room.”

I pursed my lips with another silent question on the tip of my tongue.

“It’s just Kraven and me,” he reassured.

There was so much I wanted to confess, to ask, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised he wasn’t attempting to find out the very same information his brother sought.

Instead, he continued, “Feel free to use any of my clothes. Everything’s clean, too. And uhhh…” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Is he nervous?

“The bathroom is across the hall. There’s not much girl stuff in there, but I got you a few toiletries at the store. The towels are located under the sink. If you need anything else, please let me know. I can run out and get it for you.” He paused for a moment, giving me time to process everything he offered. “There are some snacks in the drawer of the right nightstand and there’s food in the pantry and fridge. You’re welcome to whatever. Anyway, we’re heading out to the subway on 8th Street for the rest of the day. Sleep, eat, wash up, or whatever. You can relax here.”

Can I? Do I believe him?

My mind might have been conflicted, but my body didn’t miss a beat. My feet were about to run. To seek its own escape, protecting me from a future that would eventually destroy us all in ways we never could have imagined or predicted.

I should have left.

I should have hauled ass out of that house and never looked back.

I should have done something other than allowing him to grab my hand.

An electric current flicked through our skin like it did back at the subway when he first held my hand.

“Listen,” he insisted with sincerity in his tone. “You’re welcome to leave whenever you’re ready, and you can even leave now if you want. Nobody’s forcing you to stay.”

I fought against his words, not wanting to believe him.

To have hope.

To have faith.

To have friends…

It wasn’t something I ever envisioned.

As if reading my mind, he explained, “I don’t expect anything from you. You just look like you need a friend.”

My heart beat rapidly, and the longer I stood there not saying anything, the more I felt the truth of that statement.