Chapter 26
Hunter
When I come back into the house from morning chores, Theo is still asleep. Or at least that’s what Mom tells me when I walk into the kitchen.
On the one hand, I’m glad he’s getting some more rest. On the other… Well, I just hope it isn’t a sign of things to come.
He’s been doing decent the last few days, and the day I got to watch him nearly convulse in pleasure as I made us both come, he told me he was sitting around forty percent.
It seems like it’s dropped a little each day since then.
“I’m gonna go up and check in on him.”
Mom nods. “I went up and knocked. Told him I made breakfast, but he didn’t respond.”
I frown. “Thanks for trying.”
He’s only on day two of his new medication, and they said it could take two to six weeks for him to start feeling differences, so I fully expected more bad days.
Mom smiles. “Of course. He’s a nice young man. I like him. Hopefully once he’s feeling better, I’ll get to know him more.”
“I think he’d like that.”
“Me too.” Mom glances around the kitchen. “Well, I’m going to run into town for some shopping, and then I’m meeting Marla for coffee. She wants to start a book club.”
My heart swells. “That’ll be great, Mom. You need something to get you out of the house and keep you busy.”
After giving me a hug, she grabs her bag and leaves.
I jog up the stairs and push the door to my bedroom open.
Theo is indeed still asleep. His dark hair is fanning across the pillow, and his lips are slightly parted. Making my way across the room, I sit down on the edge of the bed.
“Theo,” I whisper, brushing my fingers along his face.
He stirs, his nose scrunching before he slowly peels his eyes open.
They look dull today.
“Hey, gorgeous. Percentage?”
He makes a whimpery sound in his throat. “Bad.”
Throat tightening, I rub my thumb along his temple. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Are you hungry?”
His eyes fall shut, but he nods. “Let me make you some breakfast, and then I’ll leave you alone to sleep more.”
“I hate this,” he whispers, his voice shaky and his bottom lip trembling.
“I know,” I whisper back, resting my thumb on his bottom lip. “I know you do. I hate it for you. Is there anything I can do to help?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t think so.”
Leaning forward, I press my lips to his forehead, lingering for a second. “Food and then more sleep, okay? I’ll be right back. Does anything sound good?”
He shrugs.
“Okay, I’ll get you something.”
Even though I’m sure food is the last thing on his mind, he needs something filling with protein and nutrients, so I fry two eggs and warm up two sausage patties from breakfast this morning.
I’m not sure he’ll eat all of it, but I also make a piece of toast and slather it with butter and homemade jam before pouring a glass of orange juice, since he seems to really enjoy it.
When I get back into the bedroom, he’s dozing again, but his eyes fly open when he hears me.
“I got breakfast. Let’s get you upright and fed, and then you can sleep some more.”
It seems like it takes all his energy to sit up, and I set the plate and cup down on my desk so I can help him, propping pillows behind him so he’s more comfortable.
After grabbing the plate and glass, I sit down in front of him and hold them out to him. “Here, gorgeous.”
His gaze falls to the plate, and I can tell just from the look in his eyes that if it comes down to him having to feed himself, he’s not going to do it.
“Want me to feed you?”
Drawing his eyebrows together, he shakes his head. “No.”
I frown. “You have to eat.”
“Don’t want you to have to do it.”
Setting the plate on the nightstand, I move closer to him and cup his face in my hand. I lean in, brushing my nose over his before pulling back. “I want to, sweetheart. You need to eat, and I want to help you.”
He blinks exhausted eyes at me. “Too much work.”
“What is? You?” When he nods, I shake my head. “Gorgeous, I woke up three times a night to feed a baby goat. In the cold. If you think I won’t feed the man who’s quickly stealing my heart, you’re wrong. Now quit bein’ difficult.”
I wink, hoping he won’t think I’m being mean, and he nods. “Okay.”
Hallelujah. I cut off a bite of egg and hold it out for him, close enough that he doesn’t have to move much to get it. When he’s done chewing, I do the same with the sausage.
I decide to skip the toast because it’s hard to cut into pieces with just a fork. He’s eaten all but a few bites of egg when he shakes his head. “Done?” I ask.
He nods, so I grab the orange juice and help him hold it while he downs half of it in a few swallows.
His eyes are drooping now, and it’s clear to see he doesn’t have much left in him.
“Alright, sweetheart. I’m gonna take this down to the kitchen, and I’ll be back.”
“Will you hold me?” he asks, finally losing the battle with his eyes as they fall shut.
I press another soft kiss to his forehead. “Definitely.”
When I make it back to the bedroom, I strip down to my boxers and crawl into bed beside Theo before pulling him into my arms. He buries his face in my throat and inhales a deep breath. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me.”
I sink my fingers into his hair, playing with the strands as he grows heavier in my hold.
“Was supposed to see Luca today,” he mumbles against my skin.
“I’ll text him and tell him you can’t come today.”
He exhales in what sounds like relief, and I pull him closer, dropping one hand from his hair to run my fingers down the nape of his neck to his back.
Luca can wait a few more minutes.
I’m outside making sure the chickens are in their coop when a bleary-eyed Theo finds me.
“Hey, gorgeous. You feeling a little better?”
He steps forward and rests his forehead against my shoulder, pressing his body into mine. “A little.”
“Percentage?” I ask, making circles on his back.
“Twenty, maybe.”
I hum. “That’s better than before. Any scary thoughts?”
He shakes his head. “No. Thankfully. Luca said we can reschedule. Do you think I’ll always be this way? Am I just doomed?”
“No, I don’t think that at all.”
I want to hold him and soothe him, but more than that, I want to look into his eyes, so I carefully adjust him until I can tilt his chin back.
Theo stares up at me with sad blue eyes, and I rub my thumb over his jaw. “It can take a few weeks for your medicine to start working, right? It’s only been a few days, sweetheart. It’ll get easier.”
His throat bobs with a heavy swallow. “And what if it doesn’t?”
“Then you talk to your doctor, and they try something else.”
He groans, his eyes falling closed. “You mean I might have to do more of this shit? How long? What if this doesn’t work and then I have to take more and more and more pills and none of them work and I just fucking hate my life for the rest of it?
” His chest heaves on a sharp inhale. “I can’t do this forever.
I can’t. I don’t want to. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. ”
Tears slip from his eyes and slide down his cheeks, and my heart stutters in my chest. “Come here,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around him and hauling him close to me.
He sobs against my throat as I hold him tightly.
There are no words I can say to make things better, and I know that.
“I’m so tired,” he whimpers against my skin.
“I know, sweetheart. Let’s go take a nap?”
He growls. “No. I don’t want to sleep. I want to stop feeling this way.”
I swallow hard, my throat tightening to the point of pain. “You’ve gotta give the medication time to work. That’s all, okay? Do we need to revisit the idea of inpatient therapy?”
Shaking his head, he whimpers. “Please, no. Don’t send me away. I’m sorry.”
My stomach aches at the raw pain and fear in his voice. “Don’t be sorry.” Cradling the back of his head, I rock us slightly back and forth. “I won’t send you away, I promise. Do you want to go inside?”
“Please?”
The weakness in his voice is breaking my heart, so I scoop him up. He wraps his legs tightly around my waist and his arms around my shoulders as he slumps bonelessly against me.
Carrying him is pretty light work, and when we go inside, I head for the stairs.
“I don’t want to go to bed. My brain wants me in bed, and I don’t want to let it win.”
I pause, considering those words, and make a detour to the living room. He hasn’t spent any time there at all, since he’s either hanging out in my room or outside with me doing chores.
But this is his home now, and I want him to feel comfortable using any part of it. I sit down on the couch with him still wrapped around me, and he sighs.
“Do you wanna watch TV with me? We can put on a movie.”
“Okay. Can I stay here?”
“Mhm. Let’s turn you around, though, so you can see.”
“Okay,” he whispers again.
I shift him on my lap so his back is pressed to my chest, and his head is dropped against my shoulder.
After flipping through the options, I settle on a baking show where the contestants have to make cakes look like real-life things. “I’ve seen some of these,” Theo says, his voice low. “It’s fun to guess which ones are real or fake.”
“I haven’t watched it yet.”
Theo hums, sinking deeper into me.
I have an arm wrapped around his stomach, and when he grabs it, I assume it’s so I don’t touch him there, so I don’t fight him. I’m surprised—although I guess I shouldn’t be—when he flips my hand over and starts drawing patterns on it.
It’s just as relaxing for me as it seems to be for him, and I hold him close as he runs his fingertips up and down the underside of mine and makes circles on my palm.
“Do you like this?” he whispers.
“You touching my hand?” I ask.
“Mhm. And me sitting in your lap. Do you want me to move?” He tenses like he’s expecting me to say yes.
“Don’t you dare, sweetheart. I want you to stay right here.”
Theo nods, his weight relaxing again and his fingers resuming their slow path. “You like this, huh?” I ask, wiggling my fingers under his.
“It’s soothing. I like touching you.”
“I like when you touch me. I’m glad it’s soothing.”
We’re at the part of the show where the bakers are showing off their cakes and the judges are trying to guess which one is cake.
“Holy shit,” I mumble, squinting at the TV. “I think maybe three, but I don’t actually know.”
“How do you figure it’s number three? It’s four.” There’s a hint of life in Theo’s voice, a bit of excitement that wasn’t there before.
I squint a little harder, my eyes flipping between the two of them. “It just looks… cakey.”
“No, it doesn’t. It looks like a fucking shoe.”
The judges lock in number three. “See. Told you. They think so too.”
Two minutes later, my jaw is on the floor, and Theo is turning in my lap to face me. “Told you it wasn’t number three.”
I drop a kiss on the tip of his nose. “Sure, but you don’t know that you’re right, either.”
With a huff, he turns back around as the host steps to number four. He slices right through the shoe, revealing cake.
“See,” Theo says, sounding smug. “Told you it was four.”
I can’t help but laugh. Maybe we should do this more often. I’m happy to be proven wrong if it makes him happy.
By the end of the episode, I’ve gotten every cake wrong, and Theo’s picked the correct one each time.
“I think you’re cheating. You’ve seen this episode.”
“No. I haven’t. It’s just easy to tell.”
Easy to tell, my ass. “No, it’s not.”
“Sure it is,” he says, turning to look at me. “They usually look real, but there’s always one thing that’s off about them. I’d be so good as a judge on this show.”
“You’ll have to teach me how to tell.”
For the first time all day, the corners of his lips curve into a small smile. “Now, where’s the fun in that?”
Jesus. He’s so damn gorgeous. I can’t resist. I cup his nape and drag him to me, pressing my lips to his. He squeaks out a small noise of surprise, but it melts into a whimper as he kisses me back.
His hand lands on my chest, his fingers flexing on my shirt. When I break the kiss, he rests his forehead against mine.
“Do you wanna watch another episode before we go to bed?” I ask softly, brushing my nose along his.
He hums. “I’d like that.”