“Good, so next time you feel it coming you build a wall or a…I always imagine it as a bubble where nothing can come in.”
Arlo’s words died away, and he lifted his hand from Nash’s to rub his chest again. Since when did he rub his chest all the time?
Nash had to remove his shirt to make sure he was okay. It pleased him that Arlo was wearing his shirt, but he had to check. What if he’d gotten hurt while Nash was away? He couldn’t smell blood, but he never should’ve left him. Leaning back, Nash grabbed the hem of the T-shirt.
“Stop it!” Arlo slapped his hand. “I’m trying to have a conversation here. You need to back the fuck off. Understand?”
A roar went off in his head.
“Erm…Arlo, perhaps we should talk later? Would that be all right, Nash?” Ellis was wringing his hands, his face pale, and his eyes on guard. “Perhaps both of you could come back here at dusk, and we can discuss the trouble at hand when Gilbert is present.”