Now I had Ellery and, of course, I shouldn't care. But I still didn't want to talk to him very much. He was, however, someone I could trust to give me an honest answer about things. At least I thought so. He was good at his job. If this was a special new empath talent I hadn't heard about, I wanted to know.
When Ellery dropped off on the couch after a hot shower and some mindless TV, I extricated myself carefully from him and headed out to the kitchenette with my phone. (My new phone — Erin had replaced them for us pretty quickly.)
"Hello?" said Colin, sounding distracted. "Who is this?"
"Hi, Colin," I said, feeling sheepish and annoyed. Like I had something to apologize for, but hadn't I already done it? Why should I feel ashamed forever? Just because I sucked as a boyfriend and, sometimes, as a human being?
"Um, Peter. Hello." He seemed to be trying to pull himself together . . . not entirely successfully. "I had no idea you would call."
"Well, I'd have given you a warning call, but that would've involved calling," I said dryly.
"I guess so." He sounded embarrassed rather than amused.
I decided to cut out the attempts at humor and get down to it. "I doubt you've seen the report, but something strange happened to — me and . . . and my boyfriend. I need your opinion on something."
"I'm listening." He sounded cautious but professional.
"Thank you." I heaved a relieved sigh, and the story came tumbling out of me, pouring into his ear across the phone line. When I came to the part about not sensing the other empath, he drew in a sharp breath.
"He could be a very high-level empath," said Colin. "If he was blocking your ability to sense his emotions. That's a big deal — really hard to do. I'll have to check into it and see if we know of anyone who could do such a thing."
"Maybe he was depressed and not feeling much of anything?"
Colin was silent for a moment, thinking about it hard. I liked that about him, that he'd actually think things through instead of insisting he already knew everything. "It's possible, I suppose," he said cautiously. "It could certainly register differently for different empaths. But compare what you read from him to what you feel when you sense someone is very depressed — even suicidal. How does it compare?"
I was silent a moment, digesting this. He had a point. Even a deeply depressed person who felt blank and empty gave off more emotion than that guy had.
It cleared the whole thing up — and made it much scarier for me, knowing there was such a strong empath out there, possibly working with people who wanted Ellery (and me, if they had to take me). Nobody was taking Ell away from me, of that I was sure. He needed the safety and security of this job and this life, a place he'd finally managed to feel safe after a long hard life of never feeling safe. I couldn't let anyone take him away from that.
He was already a mess from our ordeal. But if the empath was that strong . . . There was no telling if I'd be able to outwit him or sense things from him, and if they sent him after us . . .
But who sent an empath after someone? We had a job to do and we did it, but most of us weren't great shakes in the spying and kidnapping department. I mean, we weren't cut out for causing harm on purpose.
"Pete?" said Colin cautiously. "Are you still there?"
I swallowed, brushing a hand across my closed eyes, trying to breathe evenly. "Um, yes. Just having a mini-freak-out," I admitted, scrubbing a hand nervously over my face and grimacing. "I don't like the idea of someone being able to block me, and maybe worse."
"Well," said Colin, "I'll do some research on the matter and see what I can find about an empath who might meet the description you've given. They're probably already researching things, but I can stay in contact with you and let you know if we're getting close to something. To my knowledge, there are no known empaths of that level. Which, to me, is exciting. It means there might be another really strong empath out there, and if we find him and train him, why, it would be amazing."
Oh, good. He was already trained well enough to scare me.
"Yeah, well, I just hope we're safe."
"You are," said Colin, his voice warm, holding a great depth of comfort, as if he was trying to push it through the phone to me.
I closed my eyes, throat tight with remembered tenderness from and towards this man. I'd fucked it up — not unusual for me — but he was a good man, and he'd been kind to me. I think he'd even loved me once. It was painful to have him still being kind, after everything.
"Well, thanks," I said awkwardly.
After a few more brief words, we ended the call. I stood there feeling off-balance. Things had happened so quickly, I hadn't really been able to process any of it very well. I still felt shaken, even though nothing was wrong anymore. It wasn't as though I'd been steely and cool during the encounter, and was now having a little breakdown, the way it seemed to be for Ellery. Nope; I'd panicked then and I was panicking again now. I felt like a weak idiot.
I bumped a hand against my forehead, frowning, wishing I could get my thoughts into a better place. It wasn't like me to be afraid. I also hated having to count on other people to protect me and the man I loved. Even going to Colin was in some ways humiliating. I was going to my ex for help . . .
"Peter?" said Ellery, soft and cautious, interrupting my spiraling thoughts. He hesitated, then padded into the room and wrapped his arms around me from behind. It felt good, being enveloped by his gentle embrace. He was warm, comforting. "I heard voices," he said, pressing his face against my back, nuzzling me through my t-shirt.
"Yeah. I called someone at the ESRB about the empath guy. I don't know what's going on, and I need to."
"Mm." He held me, pressed close. I could feel his warmth against me. He felt very real. "Come to bed?" he asked.
"Are you up for sex?" I arched a brow, surprised. He was still shaken from the whole ordeal, as far as I could tell. No way did I want to have a go at sex if he might have a panic attack partway through.
"Mm, maybe. But hold me? Or I'll hold you? We can decide once we're there."
I didn't hesitate this time. I put my phone down and headed after him to the bedroom. We climbed into bed together. He was still sleepy, loose-muscled, loveable and cuddly like this. It was an ego boost to have his trust.
He settled into my arms, face against my chest, already starting to fall asleep again. He fit against me just right, somehow. I wasn't used to people falling asleep with me, or even sharing a bed for more than sex. I hadn't had that often before Ellery. Now it was starting to become not only familiar, but terrifyingly necessary to have him here.
I felt myself relaxing in his comfortable embrace. Sex didn't seem to be in the cards. As he drifted off, beginning to snort softly through his nose, I wondered if I should've told him I'd been talking to my ex. I'd told him the truth — I had been calling someone at the ESRB — but I hadn't told him the whole truth.
Would he want to know? Would he feel like I was lying, that I'd neglected to mention it? Well, I could tell him tomorrow. And maybe I would. I didn't need things piling up between us. It was becoming abundantly clear to me that we were the ones we could count on. We needed all the trust between us that we could get.
Besides, he'd taken meeting Angel really well. They'd even gotten along better than I really would have liked. On one hand, I liked the lack of jealousy, but on the other, I wasn't sure about this whole new BFF status they seemed to be working towards.
Well, he probably wouldn't be hanging around any of my exes for long, and neither would I. And really, it was all a learning experience. If part of me was still afraid to really give a hundred percent to this relationship, most of me was working really hard and glad to be in it, glad to have Ell's trust and love, and loving him back the best I could.
I didn't think I had a whole heart anymore. It had been broken too many times. But what I did have, I could give to him, even if it was nervously and in small bits. Love could be agonizing; it left me so vulnerable. But I was learning.
Even little things like whether or not he would become jealous were important to the growth of our relationship. I found myself wondering what he'd say, and fell asleep thinking of that instead of our recent ordeal. It was a relief, and sleep a release from stress and fear.
#
Kevin absolutely put his foot down; we would not be leaving the building without a security guard.
"Possibly two," he said, looking at me closely, almost frowning. He was really worried — I could feel that — but he looked grumpy indeed. Then he added more quietly, "Please don't fight me on this, Pete."
So I didn't. I didn't like it, but I gave in. It was pretty hard not to, for Kevin.
Perversely, I wanted to go out more now than ever. Before, when it wasn't an issue, I'd rarely left the building. Now I clawed at freedom, even as little as going out for a hotdog at a food truck when we had much better choices here.
I dreaded becoming trapped, seeing my world shrink. It wasn't just a dread of outside forces conspiring. I knew Kev wouldn't ever really wrap me up in bubble wrap, even if he sometimes gave me the impression that he wanted to.
No, I was afraid that the restrictions and vague danger would combine with my fear and keep me building-bound, or close to it. I didn't want to see my world shrink the way it had when I was working with the cops. There, nobody had restricted my movements, but I'd gotten depressed, had no friends at the workplace, and had generally felt my world getting smaller and darker all the time.
Here I had so much. But if I stopped leaving, my world would still shrink, and I'd be ashamed of myself.
To his credit, Kev made the new protections easy for me to deal with. There was no asking for permission or giving people warning when I wanted to leave. I just left, and a security officer tagged along behind me, alert to danger, but in no way telling me what to do or trying to steer me.
Any officer on duty in the lobby was authorized to guard me — there was always more than one working — but I quickly acquired a favorite. Or rather, he seemed to acquire me. He was a bit too good-looking (and tall) for my peace of mind, but he had a genial temperament and looked forward to the mix-up in his routine.
He liked going for a brisk walk through the city, and I was a great excuse. He felt alive and alert, and like he was somebody's bodyguard, maybe in the presidential detail.
He didn't say any of these things, of course; I got them off him pretty easily anyway. He was pleasant company, because he didn't talk a lot or feel slighted if I didn't want to communicate, but his thoughts and emotions were easy and pleasant for the most part. He had a youthful outlook on life, though he couldn't have been much younger than I was. He didn't seem disillusioned by life, and he secretly loved his job.
He also had no problem with me, which was nice from a strong man carrying pepper spray and a concealed handgun. Really, though, Kev had been right. People working at The Shardwell Group didn't tend to be bigots and they had mostly accepted me right away. The few who felt unhappy about me kept it to themselves. I didn't have to pry to feel it, but at the same time, it wasn't any of my business as long as they kept it to themselves and didn't antagonize me.
Not that I thought Kev would fire anyone because I said they didn't like me. But I wasn't going to find out.
After a bit, Ell wanted to tag along when I went out. I didn't mind — I loved his company — but it made me unhappy the way he felt about it. He wasn't coming along because he wanted to, but because he was afraid.
He didn't come right out and tell me, but I felt the jump of fear inside him whenever we got ready to leave. It grew as a steady sense of dread till we were outside. I thought that must be what agoraphobic people felt going outside, or nearly so. He didn't quite have a panic attack, but he wasn't enjoying himself. He wrapped himself tightly in his pea coat and kept pace with me as best he could, looking slim and handsome and deeply jittery.
It made me sad that he didn't trust me to go out alone. I really didn't think he was trying to conquer his fear. I thought he was afraid of leaving me alone — that I'd walk away from the job, or flirt with the security guy and leave him, or get captured if I didn't have him to look out for me. His talent worked when he was close to someone, and he had probably convinced himself that he was keeping me safe by sticking close, but I knew that wasn't true.
He'd always know if I was in danger. Time and space wouldn't change that, and he knew it. No, this was about something else. I didn't like it. But, at the same time, I liked spending time with him, so I wasn't going to confront him about it.
He really was being brave, and I never wanted to discourage that, or quash his fledgling attempts to take better care of himself. My Ellery had gone through some tough shit in his life. It had pretty much broken his already sensitive spirits. For a man who doubted himself, who wasn't very strong physically, and who had been drugged and institutionalized for his visions and impressions — well, he had a lot to overcome.
And he loved me very much. That fact was never far from my mind and heart. I knew it was true; I didn't always know how to handle it, though. It's a pretty big deal, knowing someone loves you so much. It's kind of scary.
At any rate, he was trying, he was brave, and even if his reasons irritated me, I appreciated his company on my treks and wanderings through the big bad city. He was always good company. Sometimes he smiled at me in a way that made me feel like my heart was getting too big and too warm to stay inside my body, and I'd find myself smiling back, and really believing we could be together forever . . .
One day we were walking along the streets during a not very crowded time of day — after morning rush hour, before lunchtime — and young Fred was walking along behind us, giving us a bit of privacy. We were heading over to the park for a walk and thinking about whether we wanted to get lunch there or go home to eat at the buffet.
There was a brief lull in the conversation, and we were walking in silence together in that companionable way you do with someone you're close to, quiet without being angry or racking your brain for conversation. Peaceful.
If I'd thought about it, I'd have been feeling happy. I suppose I was feeling happy, the contented kind of happy where you're not really thinking about it, simply existing, being alive. Not wishing for something else, just . . . there. And you realize afterwards you were pretty happy at the time. Maybe you even feel happy remembering it. But you're not really thinking how happy you are in the moment, except in rare, self-conscious circumstances. But it's the best kind of happiness, I think. If you don't have to notice it and squeeze every second out of it desperately, then it means you have enough to go around. Happiness is there in your life, like leaves thick on the ground in fall.
Anyway, we were walking along happily (I later realized), Ellery on my left, when someone fell into step on my right side and hooked an arm through mine. I startled at this dangerous intimacy and tried to pull away. He applied force.
I looked at him in shock and did a double-take. I recognized this man; he was the emotionless person who was probably a really strong empath. More powerful than I was, and with lots of unexplored talents. Like controlling people, perhaps.
I couldn't sense him at all. He was as emotionally absent as a block of wood. I had no sensations of that sort off him at all. But I could see him; I could feel his arm on mine.
My companions — Ellery and the bodyguard Fred — didn't seem to even see him. At any rate, they hadn't noticed anything wrong and both were giving off the same relaxed emotions they had a moment ago.
I, needless to say, was not.
The stranger saw my reaction and smiled. It was deeply creepy to me to see someone smile — and from this close — but not get any reading at all of what they were actually feeling. Smiles are always accompanied by a feeling, whether it matches or is at odds with the projected emotion. They're very telling; they mean a lot. His was as useless as a TV actor's smile. It read to me as literally nothing — a total blank — but could've meant anything.
"Relax.
I'm not gonna hurt you. And I won't be here long."
"Don't do this," I said.
Now Fred and Ellery were starting to get concerned, but only mildly, and only about me. They had no clue about our visitor.
"Please, please, go away," I said, trying to tug my arm free.
"Relax," said the stranger. "I just wanted to tell you something."
"Sir? Are you all right?" asked Fred, coming closer and reaching for his weapon. He didn't draw it, though. With his other hand, he touched my shoulder. It seemed meant to reassure me he was there, that I was safe.
I wasn't. None of us were.
"What do you want?" I was trembling, shamefully so — my voice, my whole body. I felt like my legs weren't going to be able to hold me up. I didn't react like this, I told myself — not to people, not to situations. Certainly not to other talented individuals. But I couldn't remember having been more afraid in a long, long time. Maybe when I'd had my car accident, right before the blackout, the split second when I knew I couldn't stop it, when it was unavoidable but I hadn't hit yet, and I'd thought, Shit. This is going to hurt.
I was that frightened now.
"My boss wants your boyfriend," said the stranger. He was taller than I was, with tousled, straw-colored blond hair and quiet gray eyes behind trim glasses. He wasn't the kind of person I would normally be afraid of. He was slim and rangy, and generally looked like a quiet person. He was wearing jeans and an old college sweatshirt, and looked like the sort of person you wouldn't glance at twice if you saw him in a library hunched over a book or computer. He would be so into it he definitely wouldn't notice you.
Instead I was facing him here, unseen by others and trembling. "Go away," I mouthed. "Leave us alone."
"My boss usually gets what he wants," said my new arch-enemy. He gave me a little tilt of the head and a slight frown, as if he was acknowledging my problem with that. "You seem like an okay guy, so I'm warning you. Be careful. Maybe don't go for walks anymore." He gave me a quick wink — and then looked past me, his expression lightening and growing less serious.
SURE (Men of the ESRB Book 3) Page 9
