But Eli was wrong, because the creature that clawed in his chest was worse than ever. He didn’t want Eli getting his hands dirty. It was beneath him.Let me, he wanted to say,I want to do something. Anything. I can’t just stand here.
The moment he sat down at Nathaniel’s next visit, he blurted out the news. “Eli’s hurt.”
Nathaniel’s expression changed in an instant. “What?”
“I let it happen. I don’t know. I wasn’t there. We were fighting because I kept interfering, and he thought I was disrespecting him. Thinking he was some kind of pussy. But I wasn’t. I just don’t want him to—”
Nathaniel gripped his arm. “How is he hurt?”
Right, that was the important part. “He has a bruise on his ribs about the size of my palm. I’ve seen bruises like that. Bar of soap in a sock, maybe, or a rock from the yard. But Eli took care of them. Did them worse than they did him.”
“And that was all? The one bruise? Could there have been more you didn’t see?”
“It’s possible. He’s good at hiding pain.”
Nathaniel nodded. He didn’t look good, kind of ashen. Then he laughed, black and bitter as coffee grounds. “He didn’t mention anything, of course. Didn’t want to worry me. As if I’m not going to worry three times as much now knowing he’s hiding shit like this.”
Samuel looked down at the table. They were cheap metal, like the chairs, and had lots of dings and scratches. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure who he was apologizing to. Maybe Eli. The man would be furious when he found out he’d been snitching to his husband.
The grip on his hand gentled. “You’re doing your best.”
“But I’m not.” The truth tumbled out of him, shameful, but cathartic. “I could be doing more. I know that. But I was—” afraid. He was still afraid. Not of the predators. He’d beat them before. He could do it again.
Nathaniel’s hand slid down and took his. The motion made him jerk his head up. Nathaniel’s look was intense. Penetrating. He wasn’t used to anyone other than his sister looking at him like that.
“No touching!” Carnivore barked.
Nathaniel released the hand, but those eyes remained. “Have you thought about—" The man stopped himself. “Forget it. I’m just being—”
“I have.” He hadn’t stopped thinking about it, really. “The prison husband thing, right?”
Nathaniel gripped both sides of the table as he leaned forward, trying and failing to hide his avidity. “You’ll do it?”
“You’rehis husband.”
Nathaniel smiled. It was so full of love, that smile. Love and pain. Why did they so often go together? “Yes,” Nathaniel said, and his voice was soft. “But I’m not the only one who loves him.”
Again with the love business. He knew he had to put the accusation to bed before it really got out of hand, and yet he still said nothing. Maybe he would have found his voice in a moment, but Nathaniel didn’t give him that time. He nodded, as if it all made sense. “Do what you think best. I know you’ll protect him.”
“But I didn’t.” Nathaniel’s misplaced confidence was worse than outright blame. He felt sick. He’d been feeling sick all week, but especially since that bruise. “I didn’t protect him.”
“You did. You will. He’s doing much better, Sam. You think I can’t see it? That he’s eating. Finally sleeping. How did you manage that, by the way?”
He knew Nathaniel was trying to make him feel better, and part of him wanted to fight it. To whine and demand to be punished. But what would that do? “I stay by his side for the first few hours, reading until about midnight, or so. Usually everyone’s asleep after that.”
“But don’t you get tired?”
“I told you, I don’t need much sleep.” That was true, but also misdirection. The truth was, he still wasn’t sleeping well. Whenever he left Eli’s side to lie down in his bed, his heart would pound, and he would keep his eyes on the bed, still on guard. One night he’d fallen asleep with Eli. He’d been reading with his penlight, sitting on the floor and leaning against the bed. He’d awoken hours later when Eli tugged on his arm with a soft, “You’ll get sick if you sleep like that. Come up onto the bed.” So he’d gone to his own bed, but he hadn’t slept again.
Nathaniel leaned closer and raised a hand as if to brush the hair back from his face but dropped it before it connected. “You don’t look like you’re sleepingenough.”
“Neither do you.”
“I’m not Eli’s first line of defense.”
“Yes you are. In everything.”
Nathaniel blinked, and as he did, his face went pink. Samuel found himself watching the color spread from his cheeks to his neck and even, eventually, to his ears. “Thank you.” The words were quiet. Embarrassed. “I think I needed to hear that.”
