Dexter. When the kitty let me feed him yesterday, he only approached his dish when I was well out of the kitchen.
Riot reaches up, pats the kitten’s head and yelps when sharp teeth nip at him.
Oh God. I clap a hand over my mouth not to laugh, even as warmth spreads in my chest. Riot’s boys. I think I might melt into a puddle of goo watching the three of them on the kitchen floor.
He turns and oh shit, his jaw is blue and black, his eye swollen shut. Didn’t get around to putting a cold compress on it last night.
“Hey.” He smiles at me and my heart does a little backflip in my chest. “Good morning.”
“Morning.”
“There’s coffee.”
“I smelled it.”
“And here you are.”
I am. Right here, with him, with all my heart and soul.
There has to be away to fix this. To be with him. To find enough money to pay off the debts and keep this Kyle and his mom fed and cared for.
But what? A Kickstarter campaign? Not being the most sociable of beings, I don’t have many friends to ask for support and sharing. I haven’t been on Facebook or Twitter in ages.
Corey. He has a network that encompasses half the globe. He’ll know what to do. I’ll twist his arm around his back if I have to. Hide his favorite Shakespeare Rules T-shirt and Moroccan slippers.
I don’t even know how much money would be needed, but I’m guessing it’s a hefty sum, or Riot would’ve found another way. I think. Unless he likes having sex with random women.
No, I can’t believe that. Things he’s said, about him not being important, about being used as a tool of pleasure...The welts on his back and around his wrists and him telling me it wasn’t the first time…
“Let me get you a mug.” He struggles to get off the floor, one arm wrapped around his middle, his teeth gritting.
“Whoa.” I grab his other arm, help him up. Dexter hisses at me, fur on end, back arched. “Hey, kitty.”
Riot straightens, his face pale, but he manages a grin. “This is Dexter. Dex, meet Pax.”
“Hi, Dex. We met yesterday, remember?” Not sure what I’m supposed to do with the hissing kitty. Shake its paw? “Nice to meet you officially.”
“He needs time to smell you, lick you. Get used to you.” He rolls his shoulders, and my gaze is drawn, like always, to the width of his chest and shoulders, the bright ink on one arm which is peeking under his short sleeve, the sheer height and presence of him. His slate-gray eyes, his square jaw, his soft mouth, and satiny dark hair.
“Right.” Did he say something? “I’ll get some coffee.”
“Now, Batman…” Riot pats again Dexter’s head and the kitty subsides, curling on Riot’s broad shoulder. “He may need some more time. He’s new here, or so he thinks, and doesn’t even trust me one hundred percent.”
“I noticed.” I shoot him a grin before I turn my attention back to the cupboard, hunting for a mug. “No problem. I can wait.”
For you.
I really can, I realize, my hand shaking a little as I reach for a plain yellow mug. Am I really going through with this? I only met him a few weeks ago, and yet I’m willing to give this—us—a try, despite the problems.
Because I love him, more than I thought possible, for being him—so gentle, so patient, so beautiful inside and out. For helping me. Helping his friend’s family. Helping this kitty and this dog learn how to trust again.
And he thinks he’s selfish. If I just could—
“Are you okay? What’s on your mind?” He’s beside me, hip propped against the counter, so close I can see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. The kitten has left its perch on his shoulder in favor of sniffing Batman’s leg.
“Nothing,” I lie. “Still half-asleep. Meet the zombie version of me.”
“Should I be worried? Will you bite me?” He grins, and even with half his face swollen, it’s sexy.