Page 76 of When In Doubt

“No, I got it.”

I listen to Oscar’s footsteps as he descends the metal stairs. Opening the box, I take in Harvey, big eyes blinking up at me. He somehow seems even bigger than he looked in the pictures, with fur the color of milky tea and long ears that fall against the straw of his temporary accommodation. I blow out a long breath.

Yeah, this is fine. A totally normal post-first-date activity. Nothing to panic about. Just Oscar entrusting me with his son. Harvey sniffs the air, and it almost looks like he’s frowning, nose twitching as if in disapproval.

I frown back, not sure how I’ve managed to get on the wrong foot with a bunny. “If you chew through any of my sweaters, I’m never speaking to your daddy again.”

“Unless you’re knitting using printer cables, you should be fine.”

I whirl around on a gasp. How did he get up the stairs so quietly? Oscar leans against the doorway holding a wooden hutch with a wire front, all kinds of accessories mounted to the metal.

“He’s pretty easy,” he says, putting the hutch down in the corner. He takes off the various tubs he stacked on top and starts arranging them neatly on the floor. “Feed him each day, keep the water topped up. I shouldn’t be gone longer than a week but if I am, the cage will need cleaning.”

“Does he need a garden? I don’t have a garden.”

“He’s fine, he’ll like it if you left him roam around a bit each day, though.”

“He’s not going to pee on my carpets or anything?”

“Not unless he’s pissed at you.”

I look over to see if he’s joking, but his face is dead serious. A flutter of unease starts in my stomach. I don’t know if this is a good idea. What if he gets out? Or eats something he’s not supposed to and dies? Things between us feel so new, so tenuous, I don’t want this to be the thing that ruins it.

“I wrote everything down,” he says a little sheepishly, pulling a wrinkled slip of paper from his back pocket.

“You were pretty confident I’d take him, huh?”

“I was prepared to beg.” His voice is low, a little husky in a way that has heat licking up my spine. Our eyes lock and the sudden image of Oscar on his knees flutters through my mind.

He steps into my space, slowly enough that I have time to move away, but I find myself swaying closer. I reach up, take a hold of his collar, pulling him towards me with a gentle tug. I try not to let myself overthink it. I’m just feeling. I wait for the nerves, for the anxiety to rise, but nothing comes. It’s just him and me. I watch him closely, studying the lines in his face as he dips close and presses a kiss to my temple.

I feel dizzy from it, but not in a bad way. I can’t stop myself from swaying closer, leaning into his touch. I have to brace a hand on his chest so that I don’t melt onto the floor.

“Do you know how long you’ll be gone?” I ask, breathless as Oscar continues to nuzzle my hairline, his exhales ghosting against my ear.

“You going to miss me, Malcolm?”

“Yes.” The word falls from my lips before I can stop it.

“Good.” I feel his smile against my skin. “Because I’m going to miss the hell out of you.”

“You’ll be careful, right?” My fingers flex of their own accord, fisting into his shirt. The reality of where he’s going has only just hit me. I want to keep him here, to hold him tight enough that he stays safe in my tiny apartment with his oversized rabbit and more yarn than anybody should own.

“I always am.” He pulls back, taking my face in his hands. His fingertips are rough where they stroke over my cheekbones, a reminder that he’s trained for this. “I’ll try to keep in touch but I don’t know what cell service will be like, or if I’ll have time.”

“Don’t worry about me, we’ll be fine over here.” I force a small smile. “Just look after yourself.”

“I’ll do my best.” Oscar’s words are soft, murmured against my forehead as he lays a long kiss there. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to pour all of my reassurances through that point of contact as I wrap my arms around him, pressing him close to me. Oscar responds in kind, his arms surrounding me in his warmth as he holds us together. “I’ll be fine,” he whispers.

“I know.” I try not to let my voice crack.

This is night and day from the last time we were together, and I thank anyone who’s listening that my brain is finally letting me have this. Absent are the memories, the panic. Oscar must feel it in the way I’m responding to him because he doesn’t pull back. He keeps pushing in that gentle way that tells me he’ll back off with a single word.

I pull back an inch, tipping my face up a fraction. I want him to kiss me. Even though my heart’s pounding out of my chest, and I’m hoping he can’t feel how sweaty my palms are against his back, I want this. I feel ready this time, but something holds me back from closing the space. That tiny flutter of fear makes itself known, but it’s fear of rejection.

In the end, I chicken out. I tuck my face into his neck and give him one last hug. Oscar responds in kind, holding me against him like we’re the last two people left in the world.

His long sigh causes a few strands to fall loose across my forehead and he tucks them securely behind my ear as he releases me. “I’ve got to get going,” he says, sounding a little regretful.