Chapter 11 #3
I feel myself go pale, and my vision goes hazy.
“Faint or seizure?” North asks. I say nothing, and he grips my chin with his free hand and gives it the most gentle shake. “Come on, Leo. Faint or seizure.”
I lick my lips slowly. “Neither.” Because I refuse to do either. I take a few deep breaths, and I feel heat return to my cheeks. Too much of it, actually. Now I’m hyperaware of everything going on, but at least I won’t lose consciousness.
“Look at me,” North says.
I obey without thinking, and my gaze catches on a couple of small, dark moles he has under his left eye. God, he really is so pretty.
“I know your brother too well to know he hasn’t left you with a very well-stocked kit. Where is it?”
Eventually, I remember. Easton put it somewhere that would be easy to access. “Bathroom. Under the sink.”
North lets me go and stands up, but instead of walking away, he sets one hand on the sofa behind my head and leans in so close he could kiss me.
Shit.
Maybe I should kiss him?
No, bad idea.
“Don’t move,” he rumbles. The sound grazes my cheeks and caresses the insides of my ear.
Is that a weird way to experience his voice?
Probably.
I say nothing and watch as he pulls back, then disappears down the hall, only to hop out a second later, like he’s trying to catch me being disobedient. Which I’m not, but only because I’m in pain and a little too shaken to move.
I’m not doing it because he said so, damn it. I’m not.
I swear.
Taking a deep breath, I lean my head back and listen to him rummage around my bathroom until the sounds go silent. Then there are footsteps on the floor, and seconds after that, there’s a warm body next to mine.
“Open your eyes,” he says right before a soft touch skitters across my jaw.
I tilt my head toward his voice and then look at him. Only I don’t see his face. I see an annoying-as-fuck penlight flashing in my eyes. Batting it away, I blink at the retina burns and glower at him as best as I can.
His face is nothing more than a white blob, but I know he’s staring at me. “You know that’s bad to do to someone who has seizures, right?”
He sighs. “Yes, but I needed to get a read on your pupils. No concussion.”
I scoff. “I know that. You could have just asked.”
He hums something that doesn’t sound entirely agreeable, but he does put the penlight away. As my vision begins to clear, I can see him digging in the soft case kit Easton put together, and he pulls out stuff to clean and bandage my face.
I could be annoyed that I cut myself, but what’s one more scar?
“Why did you run away?” he asks as he tears open an antiseptic wipe.
I brace myself for the sting, but it doesn’t hurt as badly as I’m expecting. “Uh…”
It takes me a moment to remember what was happening at North’s and why I took off, but then it hits me, and even more shame courses through my body.
I say nothing as he pours some antibiotic cream on his fingertips, and then he begins to smear it across my face where I hit the road.
He’s wearing gloves, but god, even with latex covering his hands, his touch feels so fucking good.
After a beat, North pulls out bandages, then lets out a small sigh. “I’m not trying to be a dick, Leo. I just want to know what I said that upset you.”
I look away as he finishes dressing the scrapes, then peels off the gloves and sits back with his hands in his lap, looking like I just ripped him a new asshole.
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” I finally say. “But…it wasn’t you.”
He scoffs. “Really?”
I rub at my eyes, then let out the sigh I’ve been holding in. It feels somewhat cleansing, though it doesn’t make me feel better. “Sometimes I have triggers. Weird ones. I can’t help my reactions when they hit. There’s nothing I can tell you to change because you didn’t do anything wrong.”
I want to blame him. I really do. Life would be a lot easier if I could, but he doesn’t deserve it. Not this time.
After what feels like forever, North carefully puts everything away, stands up, and disappears from the room. I feel his absence like it’s a tangible thing, but that’s also how I feel his presence. He fills up so many dark corners of my empty life, and that really should scare me.
But for the first time, it doesn’t. The fear is real, though, because I know how badly loving someone can rip me to shreds.
Last time I let myself in—last time I let myself be open to love—it was ugly. Liam and I resented so much about each other by the end, and then—just as we were trying to figure out if we could fix it—the universe took everything away.
I don’t know if I’m strong enough to survive another hit like that.
“Do you need anything before I go?” he asks, cutting into my thoughts.
My mouth opens, the urge to beg him to stay—to touch me, hold me, kiss me, fuck me until I forget—is almost overwhelming. But I say nothing. Like always.
After a long pulse of silence, he sighs and says in the flattest tone, “Alright. Good talk. Have a nice afternoon, Leo.”
And then the door shuts, and the distance between us becomes a canyon.