Better Than People (Garnet Run 1)

He was utterly numb.

He was sitting in his car in the middle of a clearing in the woods somewhere a twenty-minute drive from Jack’s house, and every part of him was numb except for a hot, tight pain in his throat.

His heart wasn’t racing; it was slugging. His breath wasn’t fast; it was deep. His hands weren’t shaking or twitching; they were lead. In fact he’d pulled over because his entire body felt like it was moving at half-speed.

The only thing he could focus on was the voice in his head, explaining everything very, very clearly.

Jack would get back to his life. Going out with friends, spending time with his brother, and walking the animals himself. He might miss Simon at first, but then he’d be scrubbed from Jack’s life as easily as deleting the PetShare app.

And when Jack’s life went back to the way it had been, so would Simon’s.

No more pack. No more touches. No more conversation. No more Jack.

Just Simon, alone, in his grandmother’s basement.

Simon opened the car door and calmly, numbly, vomited into the rotting leaves.

* * *

Simon wasn’t sure where he’d driven, but he’d sent his grandmother a text telling her not to expect him home that night before curling up in the backseat of his car and falling asleep. He awoke the next morning feeling even more frozen than he’d been the day before, like the cold had crept into his bones while he was unconscious.

He blasted the heat and drove some more. It was dusk when he got home. The porch light was on and his grandmother was cleaning the kitchen when he got inside.

He slumped onto a chair.

One of the best things about his grandmother was that she wouldn’t force him to talk.

“Jack was here,” she said.

“What? When? Why?”

Her raised eyebrow was only half scornful.

“He said you ran away.”

Simon snorted, the phrase conjuring images of himself at eight, misunderstood, tying a jam sandwich into a bandana, and stomping off into the woods.

Then it struck him that he had done almost precisely that—sans sandwich—and he bit his tongue.

“What else did he say?” he asked grudgingly.

Grandma Jean gave the counter a final wipe and gathered an armful of baking supplies to return to the pantry. The cream of tartar next to the oven and the current lack of a plate of cookies on the counter told Simon they’d done more than talk.

“You baked him snickerdoodles!” he accused.

“I did,” she confirmed.

Simon sulked in the chair, but couldn’t quite bring himself to say, He broke my heart and you betrayed me.

“He seemed like he needed them.”

“No one needs cookies,” Simon grumbled.

“No, but sometimes people need someone to do something that shows kindness.”

Simon slumped farther.

“What happened, dear?” his grandmother asked, sitting across from him.

“What did Jack say happened?”

He sounded sulky and childish even to himself.

“He seemed really disappointed you weren’t here,” she said very gently.

Simon shrugged again.

The numbness was back. Of course Jack was disappointed. Jack was kind and wouldn’t want things to be uncomfortable between them. He knew that Simon loved the animals so he would probably tell him he could come walk them sometimes. But then winter would come and the snow and they wouldn’t see each other much. By spring Jack would have forgotten all about him and the next time they ran into each other years from now, at the grocery store or the gas station, the last few months would fade to a hearty hail-fellow-well-met wave of Jack’s strong arm and the nod that Simon would give because he didn’t trust his hand not to shake.

“Did you hear me, dear?” his grandmother asked.

“What?”

“I said you should talk to Jack. Whatever he said that upset you, he clearly cares about you. He wouldn’t want you feeling this way.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because, he...” He shook his head. “It was fine when he needed a dog-walker. When he was stuck in the house. Bored and wanting a distraction. I was better than being by himself. But now... If things were normal for him we would never have met and I’d never have fallen—”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, and mortification washed over him. How could he have thought this was real? How could he have thought that Jack would truly want him once he was healthy again.

“I don’t want—I can’t talk about it,” he choked out.

“You don’t have to talk, but you have to listen to me now. Are you listening?”

He nodded.

“Things can happen to us in the course of our regular routine that change our lives forever. We could be hit by a car crossing the street. Just because something’s routine doesn’t make it safe. Or right. Or best. Things can happen because we deviate from that routine too. It doesn’t matter. What matters is being open and honest about where you are. And where you are is that you’ve met a wonderful man. You care about him. He clearly cares about you.”