14. Chapter Fourteen #3
I head back downstairs once I’ve watched everyone get settled on my feed, off to do their own things or get some early sleep.
The kitchen is as empty as it was on my monitor, but there’s no guarantee it’ll stay that way.
I move quickly, grabbing a reusable tote from the pantry and setting it open on the kitchen island.
I start my search by the fridge and work my way to the right, only grabbing things that are non-perishable and resemble foods I’ve already seen Matt eat. He likes crackers, especially saltines. The protein bars seemed to be an issue, so I’ll definitely avoid those. I’ll probably want to grab-
“Going for a picnic?” I turn in the direction of Bryce’s voice, feeling caught despite not doing anything wrong.
He raises an eyebrow and gestures at the bag.
“Or running away? You need clothes, if you’re running away.
And cigarettes. Even if you don’t smoke, you’d be surprised what you can get out on the streets in exchange for some cigarettes. ”
I smile half-heartedly, not sure if that’s what he wants from me or not. Should I pretend I don’t know he used to run away? Does he know I know that? Does he know about the files we’ve tried to keep on all of them? Does he want me to ask how he knows tips about running away?
My skin itches. The migraine I had managed to fight back last night starts to creep back in.
“I’m packing snacks for my office, actually.
” I clear my throat and turn back to the cabinet I was digging in.
“For myself. And - you know… anyone else. Who might - you know. Um. Come visit me. Whoever that might be. It’s good to have snacks.
Everyone loves a snack, right? Some healthy snacks.
Some unhealthy snacks. Between you and me, I have candy stashed up there, but sometimes you need more than candy.
Plus, I don’t really share my candy. Well, I’d share it with-” nope, stop - “certain people, but it’s probably better if I have other snacks up there.
For myself. And for other people. Whoever might come visit.
I’m aware I’m repeating myself right now, feel free to stop paying attention any time-”
I stop rambling when he places his hand on my forearm, stopping all of my movements as well. I stare at the spot where we’re touching until he asks, “For Matt?” Then I look up and meet his eyes.
“I-” Is there even a point in lying? He watches all of us.
He knows things. I bet he knows more than even I know, and I have a super computer and live feeds.
I exhale, defeated, and look back at the contents of the cupboard.
“Yeah. Yes, for Matt. Don’t tell him, okay?
I don’t want him to feel pressured. I just sort of want it to be there, you know, just sitting there, no expectation.
I mean, if he asks, I’m not asking you to lie or anything.
I wouldn’t do that. Just… I don’t know. I don’t know. ”
I can feel him staring at me, probably thinking I’m crazy, or at the very least thinking that I’m a fucking mess.
He’s not wrong. He saves me from more nervous rambling by speaking again.
“He’s allergic to nuts. Not just peanuts, but all of them.
It’s a serious allergy. You have to be really careful.
If he finds something like that in your office, he’ll stop trusting any of it.
He won’t be brave enough to look again.”
He’s allergic to nuts.
It’s a serious allergy.
Maison had asked for extra EpiPens in the next supply drop. They’d been delayed, not coming until next week. I hadn’t pressed the issue. We already have two here - one in the house’s first-aid kit, one in Deacon’s office.
Now I want to go out and get enough for everyone to have two on their person at all times, plus two in each room, and an extra hundred just in case.
“Wasn’t in his file, was it?” Bryce asks, sounding like he’s trying for snide but just missing it.
“No.” My eyes catch on the boxes of protein bars. Every flavor either has peanut butter, almond oil, or some kind of nut in the mixed granola. “No, it wasn’t. Is that why-” but he has to know that whatever Nolan cooks wouldn’t have nuts in it, unless… Nolan doesn’t know?
No, I bet Nolan knows. I bet Nolan is who told Maison, giving Maison the idea to get more pens. So, if Nolan knows, shouldn’t he trust the food Nolan makes?
Shouldn’t he at least eat the food that’s obviously peanut-free?
The spaghetti tonight. Mashed potatoes in the past. Roasted chicken.
Pot roast. Even if Nolan didn’t know, even if Matt didn’t catch use of nuts when keeping Nolan company in the kitchen, none of those foods ever have nut products in them.
“You realize you’re talking out loud, yes?” Bryce asks.
“No.” I look over at him with a wince. “Sorry. My head gets a little… cluttered. Loud. Sorry. It’s none of my business, anyway. I’ll just make sure everything in my office is nut free. And we’ll be getting more Epipens as soon as I can get my hands on them.”
“Were you going to ask if that’s why he doesn’t eat?”
The amount of relief I feel knowing that someone else knows about his eating issue is nearly overwhelming. “Yeah. Yes.”
“I don’t know why. There’s no reason for him not to, as far as I know. But that’s trauma, right?” He offers up a sad smile and a shrug. “I just keep bringing him food, keep trying. This’ll be good, though. The food in your office, I mean. This is a good idea. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that.”
He tilts his head at me, like he’s considering something, then nods. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he says again, smirking now. Then he reaches past me and grabs a box of cereal. I watch as he puts it in the tote bag. “He used to eat dry Fruit Loops with his papá on the weekends, when his mamá worked early shifts. It was their secret.”
Something catches and pulls in my chest. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
It’s not my place.
It’s not my place to ask, but I still do. “Did he tell stories a lot? Before…?”
“He was always quieter, but yeah, he’d tell stories. Most of us would. It kept us sane and kept us going, you know? One time he-”
“Wait,” I stop him, putting a hand up as that thing inside my chest tugs down into my gut and twists. “I - please don’t tell me anything else. I shouldn’t have asked. I want him to tell me, if he ever wants to. I’m sorry.”
He tilts his head, the movement considering again, and smiles. It’s an approving smile. I feel like a kid who just got handed a gold fucking star with that smile.
As he walks away, though, I can’t help but think one thing; Matt’s smile is better.