It is completely dark when I make it back to the house. I attempt to quietly slide in through the kitchen door to not bring attention to myself, but I am fucked. Sitting at the kitchen table with an empty mug of coffee in his hand and his phone to his ear is Tyson. A quick blip of relief flicks across his face. It almost looks like he has been waiting up.
He tells the person he is talking to that he will have to think about it, but he will call them back soon. He gives this cute smile almost as if the caller on the other end could see him.
"Cool. You too. Adios," he concludes his call.
Before I can ask who it is, he realizes I am hurt and rushes over to me.
"Jack, your arm is bleeding," he observes.
"Was," I reply. "I wrapped it in a piece of my shirt."
He stares down at the three parallel slices in my left forearm.
"What happened?" he asks, unable to hide his concern.
Looking up into my face to find my answer, he notices the scratch across my cheek.
"Jack, your face!" he exclaims.
He goes to reach for it, but my hand finds his before he makes connection.
"Fuck, Jack. Your hand."
Dammit. I forgot about my busted knuckles.
"What the hell is going on?" Now: less concern, more anger.
Icing on the cake time. I pull the gun from behind my back where it was nestled in the waistband of my shorts, and I place it on the kitchen counter by the sink. Then beside the empty gloc, I put down an almost full clip of ammo.
"We should probably get rid of that," I tell him matter of factly.
His eyes are as big as saucers. I can't help but let out a chuckle at how adorable he looks.
"And you laugh! You fucking laugh. You fucking psychopath."
"You were right, Ty. You were right about Claire." I look down, suddenly feeling embarrassed.
Tyson lets out the breath he was holding and moves toward the fridge.
"Sit," he commands and points to the chair by the table.
"Here," he says nudging me and giving me a bag of frozen peas. "Hold those on your hand. You may have broken something."
"Nah," I said. "I know broken. This is just jacked."
"Okay, wild man. Look at me," is his reply.
I look up at him and he wipes the side of my face with a warm wet cloth. He is close enough to me to smell the chai on his breath. I was wrong. He was drinking tea, not coffee. I am not sure he ever drank tea before coming here to stay with me.
This makes me laugh again.
He just shakes his head with a scolding glare. The same glare his mother had given me countless times.
A sudden and scary urge to kiss Tyson takes over me. His closeness. His care. I have to turn my face away from his.
"Hey. Let me finish," he gripes, grabbing my chin and directing my face back to his.
"Aren't you going to ask what happened?" I say, knowing I have to get my thoughts off my dark feelings.
"Do I need to? Is it any of my business?"
YOU ARE READING
His Woods (MxM)
Romance(Previously known as Breaking the Beast) Tyson knows he isn't perfect, but he doesn't think he deserves a summer stuck at the old holiday cabin with his dad's friend, Jack. After he gets kicked out of college and assigned probation, Tyson has to lea...
