She opened the door to find Thomas carrying a box of supplies. “Hi, stranger,” she said.
“Hi Jessa.” He coughed.
“You sick?” she asked, shifting Oscar’s sling to her other side.
“I’m not sure,” he answered, following her into the hall. “Something’s going on.”
Something was going on. Thomas looked terrible. His complexion was waxy and pale—almost grey. A light sheen of perspiration across his brow and upper lip, and his eyes… It was as if the color had faded out of them. He noticed her examination and scowled, stalking into the kitchen—moving so swiftly, Jessa jumped.
That was when she noticed Oscar. He’d gone silent and motionless, burrowing against her.
The stroke of warning along her spine was quick, but unmistakable. Even though she knew Thomas was no threat, that there was no reason to be so damn jumpy, she tightened the sling holding Oscar—freeing her hands but anchoring him against her.
“Jessa,” Thomas called from the kitchen.
She followed, taking a deep breath. “Adjusting Oscar,” she explained. “He’s hungry.”
“He’s growing.” Thomas said, stepping closer. “Looks like you’re doing a great job with him.”
“Thank you.” She smiled, once more thrown by his appearance. “Want some water? An aspirin?”
“I’m fine.” He shook his head. “You know, we need to plan our date.” She saw the slight tremor of his hand as he rested it on the counter.
“We will,” she said. The baby was too still, too quiet. Something was wrong. She swallowed, looking Thomas in the eye. The color. Just like Cyrus. Her chest felt heavy, compressed. “Did something happen to you?”
His smile was slow. She saw the hardening of his face, the pinched tightness about his eyes as he said, “Yeah, you could say that.” He shrugged. “I got mugged last night. Jumped on my way home from work. Damn dog bit my leg.”
The hairs on her arm stood straight up.
“A dog?” she repeated.
“I guess. Damn thing almost tore my leg off.” He shrugged. “I’ve been feeling weird ever since.”
“Did you go to the doctor?” she asked, moving to the other side of the island and pulling out a baby bottle. Three days ago, she’d be worried about rabies or infection. Not now.
Finn’s words haunted her. I infected the only friends I’ve ever had. Me.
Had Thomas been infected?
She’d jolted awake last night, nightmares about Cyrus’s near colorless eyes, and Oscar’s reaction terrifying her. Now Oscar was just as still and quiet, like he was hiding. Because of Thomas.
Panic pressed in, clenching her chest and abdomen.
Thomas isn’t Cyrus.
“I’ll go,” he said. “But I had this need to see you first. And Oscar. All I’ve been able to think about today is seeing you two.” He followed her around the kitchen island, carrying a canister of formula with him. He placed it on the counter, but didn’t let go. “You smell as sweet as a tulip, Jessa. You know that?”
She tried to smile as his colorless gaze bore into her own. She touched his arm, startled by the heat of his skin. “I’m worried about you. Can you go to the doctor this afternoon? I can make you an appointment.”
He paused, a hint of sadness on his face. “No. I have to do something first.” He shook his head. “Something that might be hard for you, Jessa.” He cleared his throat, his tone shifting, thickening into an almost-growl. “I need Oscar, Jessa. He said he’d leave you alone if I gave him Oscar.”
She couldn’t freeze up. She couldn’t fall apart. Oscar needed her. She swallowed. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, but she couldn’t reach for it.
“You’ll have to call them back later,” Thomas said.
What the hell was she supposed to do?
“I don’t understand,” she said, hoping her panic wasn’t obvious.