Page 115 of Checking Out the Librarian

Jonathan

I miss you too.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. His hands couldn’t cool his cheeks.

On Sunday, Jonathan felt like he’d barely slept, then like he’d barely woken up. If a person could be the walking embodiment of a dangling cuticle, he was certain he was it.

Connor joined him at the veterinarian’s office, allegedly to make introductions, but he was all cuddles and quiet clapping when the kitten tottered on a counter, then more petting, and a total of about seven seconds of introduction, so Jonathan saw through him.

Thirty minutes later, Jonathan had decided that both he and Kitten would become exclusively indoor creatures, because nasty worms that did not drive around in apple cars visiting with talking bears existed everywhere. Heartworms! Icky worms.

While Kitten had been treated and dewormed, it felt like Jonathan’s own heart was being consumed from the inside without hope of medical intervention, it really did.

Vaccinations would start in two weeks. Veterinarian bills were clearly going to replace cafes, clothes, and car maintenance in Jonathan’s near future.

The subject of everyone’s attention was exhausted and fussy after his vet visit, which had confirmed that he was a duke and not a duchess, and so he slept in the cross-body bag Jonathan had adopted like a small version of a baby carrier. The bag was black, Jonathan’s T-shirt was black, and Jonathan’s tapered cargo pants were black. Only the Trader Joe’s tote Jonathan used for Kitten’s necessities was not black. It was white with yellow trim.

“I’ve become a tote-bag carrying cliché.” The words felt dramatic as they left his mouth and they really didn’t lose their whiny, mournful tone while they hung in the air between him and Connor. “And I don’t even know what I’m a cliché of!”

He heard, and wanted to reject, the rising pitch in his voice, but there was no do-over.

“Let’s get a coffee.” Connor waved at a sign down the block. “I go there after the vet, if Ribby had to get shots.”

You’re melting down, you need to be better than this, you can’t be weak in front of other people, you’re losing it, stop it. All those words and memories thankfully remained locked inside Jonathan, looping but unspoken, while they performed the easy rituals of ordering coffee and scones.

Connor offered to pay, and they walked slowly, sipping and enjoying being outdoors on pavement where no worms could use their little mouth hooks to burrow through the soles of Jonathan’s feet.

Right, he wore shoes. But hookworms existed.

“Let me carry that, so you can relax.” Connor reached for Kitten’s gear, and Jonathan let him take it.

He looked silly and approachable and so, so necessary with Kitten’s tiny tote dangling from his shoulder. Connor accepted responsibilities as easily as he’d taken the bag.

How could he ever be satisfied with a mess like me?

“It’s not a big deal, J.” He hitched the strap higher on his shoulder.

“I know, I know!”

“Nope, you don’t.” The tote handle was definitely too small. Connor couldn’t get it far enough over his popping-big-shoulder-muscle to let it rest in place.

“Well, if I knew what you were talking about, I would. Also, the letter J is not my name.”

Connor gestured between the two of them and smiled. “You, me, pets, coffee, stuff. Take your pick. None of it’s a big deal.”

Those golden eyelashes flicked down and back up and their gazes locked.

“Go with the flow. That’s what I do.”

“My hair has flow. I do not. And this is a lot of responsibility.” Although a slightly shaky voice was better on the emotional progress scale than overwrought or waspish, his tone was definitely too revealing. His pulse was also bit alarming. “And bills. It’s a lot of bills.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? I don’t!” Because his left hand was supporting Kitten’s pouch, he waved his right hand in the air. The coffee cup decreased the speed and drama of the gesture, but it should still convey his point. “Everything is really happening very fast. Too fast.”

“I get it. I do. During the school year I have to take care of other people’s kids five days a week, keep them from putting each other’s or their own eyes out while also teaching them to do shit like read, so I get it.”

He was so stupid.