Just Like That - Cole McCade Page 0,38
from Summer’s skin, holding in midair while his eyes widened briefly; he gave Summer an odd look, before bowing his head and focusing on the tin resting open on his thigh, dipping his fingers in and coating them once more. “I suppose at one time, we were.”
Summer got the message.
Don’t push it.
So he just cleared his throat and reminded himself to hold still as Iseya began rubbing more of the salve into the bruise, kneading it in with a gentleness that pulled at Summer in all those ways he was trying to ignore.
Instead he changed the subject, and murmured, “So I think I’m going to refer Jay and Eli to the guidance counselor. Theodore Rothfuss, too.”
Iseya arched a brow. “You think that would be effective?”
“Yeah. I mean, I hope so.” Summer leaned back on his hand to move his arm out of the way, giving Iseya easier access to the spreading branch of bruised flesh that reached around his side. “These kids get dumped here because their parents don’t want to deal with them. And they act like they don’t care, that they’re glad to be somewhere without their parents hanging over their shoulders, but...they’re turning to us for structure and guidance, and maybe they get that from the teachers, but...” He frowned. “They need some kind of nurturing, too. But I don’t think any of these three would go to the guidance counselor on their own.”
“Likely not,” Iseya agreed mildly, then added, “...especially since we do not have one any longer.”
Summer blinked, cocking his head. “We don’t? What happened to Dr. Cartwright?”
“Resigned about two years after your graduation.” Iseya’s hand pressed flat to Summer’s rib cage for a moment, smoothing over the bruise in one last long, slow stroke that made Summer’s heart beat so hard surely Iseya must feel it under his palm, before that touch withdrew. “We’ve yet to find anyone to fill the position. Shocking that no one wants to exile themselves to a small, remote town to play both parental figure and therapist to some of the world’s most spoiled children.”
Summer smiled faintly, sadly. “The fact that people see them that way is probably exactly why they need someone.”
Iseya lifted his head, watching Summer, his eyes half-closed and strange, glimmering in the darkened room; neither of them had turned on the light, working solely by shadows and moonlight, and those shadows seemed to dwell oddly in Iseya’s gaze as he fitted the cap back onto the tin.
“You truly empathize with these boys, don’t you?” he murmured. “Even though they’re no different from the ones who made you feel so small as a student.”
“I guess I never minded, even back then.” Summer shrugged. “Because even back then I could tell they were acting out because they were hurting.”
A faint wrinkle appeared between Iseya’s brows. “You are the strangest young man, Summer Hemlock. I confess you do surprise me, at times.”
“In a good way or a bad way?”
“In a way that does not need to have a positive or negative value derived from it. It simply is.”
Iseya rose, then, moving with fluid grace that made the tight sinew of his waist, back, and shoulders slink sinuously as he gathered the salve, alcohol, and towel once more.
“Are you feeling any better?” he asked neutrally, voice drifting back as he vanished into the bathroom again.
“Yeah.” He really did, the pain just a dull afterthought instead of an active throbbing, and Summer stood, scrubbing his hands awkwardly against his thighs. “Thank you. Saved me a trip to the nurse in the morning, but... I’ll get out of your hair.”
An amused sound drifted from the bathroom, followed by, “...you’re doing it again.”
“Doing what...?”
“Self-effacing. Assuming your presence is undesirable.” Iseya’s tall, prowling frame melted into view again, settling to lean in the bathroom doorway with those unreadable eyes locked on Summer, arms once more folding over his chest as he slouched with a mixture of grace and ennui. “Some things really don’t change.”
“...it’s the middle of the night and I’m in the middle of your suite when you should be sleeping, and you make it pretty clear you find anyone breathing in your presence irritating.” Summer shrugged with a little laugh, which trailed off as he glanced over his shoulder at the cabinet and that little photo. “And... I...it just...it feels like I interrupted something private.”
“Not quite.”
Iseya pushed away from the doorframe, his lazy, loping strides different somehow, that commanding, calm power that always infused his movements changed into something stranger, more