stepped over and clapped him on the back, not hard at all, and Jonah still jerked under that brief contact. Immediately Trey withdrew his arm, stepped away.
“I-I thought it would be better than the floor.” Shit, he was stuttering and he hadn’t stuttered since Aaron. Something about big men, even when Jonah was one.
“It will be.” Trey seemed genuinely excited by what Jonah had made, and he picked up the sleeping bag he’d used that one night. As he spread it out, he said, “I couldn’t face sleeping on the rug again as human, so I was going to shift tomorrow. But after I saw what you’d done, I decided not to wait. Where’d you learn woodworking?”
“My mom.”
“Yeah?”
“She taught us all, including herself, when she decided we should live, um, away from civilization.”
“Makes sense.”
Jonah jerked a nod. It was hard to talk period, but talking about his mother and brother was the worst. And yet he added, “She was practical, in her way. Only…”
Trey waited, cocking his head. “Only what?”
“It’s more complicated than you think to hide away from the world.” Especially when you decide to have asshole boyfriends.
“I can believe that.” Trey glanced around. “You’ve made a nice home here though.”
Jonah stared, but unless Trey was playing some kind of deep game, he meant it. This wasn’t Aaron, sneering away at their poverty and the tiny size of their home. “It’s small.”
“Needs to be small in winter, or you’ll spend your entire life keeping the place warm.”
“Sometimes it closes in on me,” Jonah blurted. Christ, why’d he have to say that? Could he not talk like a regular person?
Trey simply looked at him in commiseration, as if he might have lived in exactly the same way. Though Jonah didn’t think that was the case. Trey seemed so worldly. “Well, maybe we can work on ways to get you a bit more comfortable with your life. I think, as it is, you’re too isolated.”
There was a slight question in that statement, Trey looking for feedback or something, Jonah supposed. He stared at his feet before making himself meet Trey’s blue gaze. With some dismay, he realized he was going to say more about himself, when he didn’t want to, but he couldn’t stop voicing his fear. “Sometimes I think I might go crazy.”
Then Trey did this weird thing. Well, Jonah guessed it wasn’t that weird, just weird for hermit woodsmen. Trey stepped up beside him and gave a one-armed shoulder hug. At first Jonah went stiff with surprise, wondering what this meant, where it was going. But nothing happened as such, just a warm arm around him. It had been so long since anyone had touched him that the sensation flowed through his entire body and something inside unwound a little.
When Trey didn’t let go right away, Jonah found himself relaxing a fraction, even leaning into the hug. It felt as if a kind of relief was flooding his veins, running through his blood, a release of tension. He didn’t understand it and his thoughts swam with the headiness of his reaction.
Somehow then, Trey lowered him to the cot he’d made, but instead of leaving, they sat there shoulder to shoulder, and Jonah said the next thing that came to mind.
“I think there’s something wrong with me.” Was this what happened when you were deprived of people for three years? You said all the wrong things? You said what was inside you that should stay inside you? He gulped a breath, unable to take the words back and plowing on despite his desire to shut up. “Besides the obvious. I mean being a lynx.”
“There is nothing wrong with you.” Trey sounded adamant, and Jonah pulled in a long breath. Remembering to breathe would help with the swimmy-head feeling. “You’ve done great. I’m impressed with your setup here and how you handle yourself.”
Jonah snorted in embarrassment, and again Trey brought his arm around his shoulders, rubbing his far arm. “You know, when I was approaching your home that first
“I-I thought it would be better than the floor.” Shit, he was stuttering and he hadn’t stuttered since Aaron. Something about big men, even when Jonah was one.
“It will be.” Trey seemed genuinely excited by what Jonah had made, and he picked up the sleeping bag he’d used that one night. As he spread it out, he said, “I couldn’t face sleeping on the rug again as human, so I was going to shift tomorrow. But after I saw what you’d done, I decided not to wait. Where’d you learn woodworking?”
“My mom.”
“Yeah?”
“She taught us all, including herself, when she decided we should live, um, away from civilization.”
“Makes sense.”
Jonah jerked a nod. It was hard to talk period, but talking about his mother and brother was the worst. And yet he added, “She was practical, in her way. Only…”
Trey waited, cocking his head. “Only what?”
“It’s more complicated than you think to hide away from the world.” Especially when you decide to have asshole boyfriends.
“I can believe that.” Trey glanced around. “You’ve made a nice home here though.”
Jonah stared, but unless Trey was playing some kind of deep game, he meant it. This wasn’t Aaron, sneering away at their poverty and the tiny size of their home. “It’s small.”
“Needs to be small in winter, or you’ll spend your entire life keeping the place warm.”
“Sometimes it closes in on me,” Jonah blurted. Christ, why’d he have to say that? Could he not talk like a regular person?
Trey simply looked at him in commiseration, as if he might have lived in exactly the same way. Though Jonah didn’t think that was the case. Trey seemed so worldly. “Well, maybe we can work on ways to get you a bit more comfortable with your life. I think, as it is, you’re too isolated.”
There was a slight question in that statement, Trey looking for feedback or something, Jonah supposed. He stared at his feet before making himself meet Trey’s blue gaze. With some dismay, he realized he was going to say more about himself, when he didn’t want to, but he couldn’t stop voicing his fear. “Sometimes I think I might go crazy.”
Then Trey did this weird thing. Well, Jonah guessed it wasn’t that weird, just weird for hermit woodsmen. Trey stepped up beside him and gave a one-armed shoulder hug. At first Jonah went stiff with surprise, wondering what this meant, where it was going. But nothing happened as such, just a warm arm around him. It had been so long since anyone had touched him that the sensation flowed through his entire body and something inside unwound a little.
When Trey didn’t let go right away, Jonah found himself relaxing a fraction, even leaning into the hug. It felt as if a kind of relief was flooding his veins, running through his blood, a release of tension. He didn’t understand it and his thoughts swam with the headiness of his reaction.
Somehow then, Trey lowered him to the cot he’d made, but instead of leaving, they sat there shoulder to shoulder, and Jonah said the next thing that came to mind.
“I think there’s something wrong with me.” Was this what happened when you were deprived of people for three years? You said all the wrong things? You said what was inside you that should stay inside you? He gulped a breath, unable to take the words back and plowing on despite his desire to shut up. “Besides the obvious. I mean being a lynx.”
“There is nothing wrong with you.” Trey sounded adamant, and Jonah pulled in a long breath. Remembering to breathe would help with the swimmy-head feeling. “You’ve done great. I’m impressed with your setup here and how you handle yourself.”
Jonah snorted in embarrassment, and again Trey brought his arm around his shoulders, rubbing his far arm. “You know, when I was approaching your home that first
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