Page 5 of The Rut in the Road

Sort of.

I still felt obligated to Ward and Mason, of course. And Hart. They’d gotten me out of Tranquil Brook, given me a job and the chance to build that life with their support.

And then there was Raj. I didn’t exactly feel a sense of obligation to him, not in the same way. I did have gratitude. Gratitude for his forgiveness for all the times I’d invaded his thoughts and dreams. Gratitude for the fact that he tolerated me—that he cared about me, despite the fact that I wasn’t normal and often needed him to explain things that other people probably didn’t.

It wasn’t something I’d ever really expected—to have a real romantic relationship. After the asylum, I guess I’d figured it would be enough of a miracle if I managed to live as a semi-functional adult, much less one who had friends or relationships. And when I’d gotten friends, they’d pushed me to go on dates, and those had all been either mind-numbingly boring or complete disasters.

So I’d more or less given up on that idea, too.

And then Raj had happened.

To be honest, I still didn’t quite understand how.

He’d been almost hostile, and then kind, and then angry, and then suddenly he’d asked me out.

I kept waiting for him to change his mind. To decide that he wasn’t actually interested in dating me, and that’s why he wasn’t really interested in being physically intimate with me.

Except that he seemed to enjoy kissing and cuddling and hand-holding well enough.

I wondered if he was asexual, or demisexual the way I figured I probably was, but he’d not said anything about it. Of course, neither had I.

Not that I felt at all demi around Raj. His fingers on my skin, his lips on mine… they were absolutely guaranteed to make my blood feel like it was on fire. I’d thought that maybe he was going to push things a little more, but then— Then a case had been called in, and whatever had been about to happen, didn’t.

I’d gotten a text from him about six hours later telling me that it was going to be a very long night, but that he’d be in touch again when he could.

That had been about fifty-two hours ago.

I tried to convince myself to stop checking my phone for more text messages, but it wasn’t working.

Are you awake?

The buzz and glowing screen immediately caught my attention, despite the fact that I’d actually put on a streaming show—something I didn’t do very often—to distract myself both visually and aurally from thinking about the fact that it had now been fifty-five hours and thirteen minutes.

Yes,I sent back as quickly as I could grab the phone and type out the word.

Any chance I can come over?

Please.

I immediately paused the show, shoved myself out of the giant bean bag chair, and hurried to the kitchen. I had no doubt that Raj would probably be hungry, and I could at least heat up a couple of frozen pizzas for him.

I got the cheapest ones possible, which actually weren’t terrible, so that I could always have at least a half-dozen in the freezer, since every time we made them for dinner, he ate at least two to my one. Two pepperoni and one Supreme, this time, since I’d eat some, too.

And then I pulled out a little square package of frozen cookie dough and threw those on a pan to put in the oven as soon as the pizzas were finished.

I’d just pulled the pizzas out when my phone buzzed again.

Downstairs.

I hit the button, holding it down long enough to be sure he’d be able to pull the door open. Then I went over to the door of the apartment and flipped open the lock and cracked it, letting him know he could just come in.

Then I went back to the kitchen to turn down the temperature and put the cookies into the oven.

I heard the soft creak of the door as he came in, and I moved back to the main room to greet him, and then froze.

He lookedterrible.

There was an unhealthy greyish tinge to his dark skin, puffy circles under his eyes that were almost black, the whites around his gold-brown irises bloodshot. The parts of his cheeks that were usually clean-shaven were covered in stubble. His clothes—the same ones he’d had on when he left two days before—were rumpled and stained, and his hair, usually so smoothly brushed back, was ruffled and unkempt.