I wanted to reach out and touch him—a hug, a shoulder pat, something. Animals found touch reassuring, comforting, and I’d picked up that habit. Humans, despite needing touch just as much, often shied away. Most shifters treated touch like animals did—as a comfort, but I wasn’t sure about Declan. We were still being oh-so-careful around each other. We had a tentative friendship building, and I wasn’t sure if a casual touch would be welcomed or not, so I kept my hand fisted at my side.

Bay noticed my hesitation and threw me a confused look. Declan wasn’t looking at us, so I shrugged and mouthed, “I don’t know.”

Bay glared at me, crossing his arms. He mouthed the words “You’re making it weird.” I set down my coffee to mimic him. We glared at each other until Bay threw up his arms, muttered something about getting his transfer ready for his first appointment, and wandered off.

I hated to admit that my brother had a point, albeit a silent one. Declan and I weren’t going to bridge our gap by me holding back or pretending to be someone other than myself, and I was affectionate with my friends. I’m a hugger. I’m not saying I shouldn’t take his trauma into account—if he didn’t like me being physically close to him, I could take note and adjust until he changed his mind.

I just needed to pay attention to his reaction—people tell you a lot with body language. But I couldn’t keep putting up distance—we lived together and I was casually demonstrative with my other roommates, and he would notice that sooner or later if he hadn’t already and might wonder why I was different with him. If I was shunning him. I didn’t want that doubt in his mind.

Declan was visibly stressed. His shoulders were bunched beneath his thin T-shirt, his jaw tight. If this were Trick, Van, or Juliet, I would comfort them. He was a new friend, but he was still my friend.

I took a deep breath and laid a hand on Declan’s back. His muscles tensed slightly beneath my hand, reminding me of interactions with feral or abused creatures. He wasn’t rejecting my touch, but he wasn’t sure if I was going to wield it in kindness or harm. It wasn’t a reaction most people were born with—it was taught. I felt a sudden burst of rage at the person who’d made Declan learn that response. To make a shifter wary of a simple hand on their back went against their entire nature.

I took a deep breath, releasing my tension and doing my best to radiate calm. If he were a patient, I would have added magic to my touch, using my power to calm his emotional state. Taking his pain into myself and offering a sliver of my own peace in return. Sort of like an emotional transfusion.

Declan wouldn’t take kindly to that. He’d see it as an invasion. Instead, I kept myself relaxed and rubbed my hand in gentle circles between his shoulders. “It will be okay. Bay knows you stepped into a mess.” My lips tilted up.