Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“What does that mean?”
“People are nice to each other and no one’s an asshole and they’re pretending they don’t wanna win?”
“Yeah,” Simon sighed blissfully.
After a few more minutes, Jack found himself having strong feelings about bakers and baked goods alike.
“That seems bad,” he said. “That seems like a terrible choice. There’s not time for that! Is there? I don’t know; I don’t bake!”
At his yell, Dandelion jumped up, startled. When she saw nothing was amiss besides underbaked cakes she flopped back down and didn’t look up again until Jack’s next outburst.
“You’re scaring the p-pack,” Simon said, swatting Jack’s leg for emphasis.
Unfortunately, it was his broken leg and Jack cringed. It hadn’t hurt so much as promised to hurt, but Simon babbled out a stream of apologies, face a mask of horror, until Jack twisted at the waist and grabbed his shoulders.
“I’m fine. It’s okay, really.”
“Sorry,” Simon said for the twentieth time, and this time it had no sound.
Jack ran his hands from Simon’s shoulders down his arms and took his hands.
“Seriously. You didn’t hurt me.”
Simon tugged one of his hands away.
“I’m sorry,” Jack said, and let go, realizing suddenly that holding hands wasn’t necessarily something that everyone was comfortable with.
Simon shook his head and sat on his reclaimed hand.
“It t-t—” He snapped his mouth shut and rolled his eyes, as if exasperated with himself.
Jack grabbed his phone and held it out to Simon.
When Simon gave it back to him it said, My hand twitches. It’s from my medication, and an .
“What medication?”
For anxiety, Simon wrote. It’s a side effect. Muscle twitches.
Simon pulled his knees up and pulled the blanket from the back of the couch over himself.
“Do they happen more when you’re nervous? Uh, anxious?”
Simon shook his head. He reached for the phone, then seemed to change his mind.
“It j-just happens. Once it starts, it happens f-for a while. Hate it.”
“Is it just your hand?”
He shook his head and pulled the blanket tighter around himself.
“My thighs somet-times. My...” He trailed off, scowling.
“Does massage help?” Jack asked.
Simon’s eyes snapped to his. He shrugged. And Jack wanted to kill every single person in the world who hadn’t offered to massage Simon’s twitching muscles.
“Want to try?” Then, realizing what that sounded like, “Your hand, I mean.”
He held out his own hand, palm up, in offering. Simon blinked. Then slowly he leaned closer, slid his hand out of the covers, and placed it in Jack’s.
“Watch the show,” Jack said.
For the next twenty minutes as they watched the bakers measure, mix, shape, and decorate, Jack massaged Simon’s hand. At first, he could feel micromovements that Simon was trying to stifle. Slowly, as Simon relaxed again, the twitches would flex his thumb up and back.
“It’s okay,” Jack murmured softly, massaging up Simon’s wrist.
Simon sighed and let his head drop onto the back of the couch. The episode ended and another began. Jack dug his thumbs into Simon’s palm.
Simon tipped his head to look at Jack. His eyelids were heavy and there was a slight smile hovering at the corner of his mouth. Or maybe that was just what his face looked like when he wasn’t clenching his jaw.
“Feel okay?”
Simon nodded, eyelashes fluttering.
“Want me to keep going?”
Simon nodded again.
This close, Jack could smell his shampoo in Simon’s hair. He was aware of every shift and breath. Jack wanted to pull him close, kiss his lips, twist his fingers in that unruly hair.
A rip of thunder split the air. Simon startled, jerking upright, and the animals whined.
“It’s okay,” Jack soothed, and though he’d been talking to the pack, Simon settled too.
Lightning flashed and a whine came from the bedroom. Puddles.
“Puddles is scared of lightning,” Jack explained, regretfully pushing himself off the couch. A sweet smile touched Simon’s lips and he nodded.
In the bedroom, Jack could just make out a lump at the foot of the bed. Puddles had rucked all the covers off and buried himself beneath them, not an inch of fur visible. On top of the pile sat Louis.
“Aw, buddy.”
Jack perched on the edge of the bed and patted the pile, feeling the trembling dog beneath. Louis fixed him with an even look, on guard but not unwelcoming.
“It’s good he has you to protect him,” Jack told Louis.
Louis slow-blinked at him magnanimously.
Simon appeared in the doorway brandishing his phone.
“I’m gonna check on my grandma,” he said, but he walked toward the bed.
He raised a questioning eyebrow at the blanket mountain with Louis perched on top and Jack nodded.
“Hey, Puddles,” Simon crooned. He got to his knees on the floor and lifted the very edge of the blanket to slide one hand underneath. “Being scared sucks so much. I’m sorry.”
He put his chin on the bed and after a minute Jack saw a trembling nose emerge from the blankets and inch toward Simon’s. Puddles gave Simon’s cheek a lick, then retreated back to safety.