"He can wait," I said, tousling his hair gently, and then rolling off him so we could both cool down. A quick nap, a shower, and then . . . But no, I didn't want to think ahead, or about Kevin, or about anything but this moment, and stay safe here with the man I loved.
#
We all pretended that Ellery and I had talked seriously about taking a vacation and where we'd like to go. It was a polite fiction; in reality, I don't think Kev was fooled, but he also didn't care. When I said we wanted to go to the nice little resort in Switzerland we'd been to once before, he just nodded and started making it happen.
"I think we need to start paying for some of our vacations, though," I told him in a fit of guilt.
He looked up. "Nope. If you suggest it, and it's not convenient for us, I'll consider it. But, frankly, this is part of the reason The Shardwell Group was allowed to have two people from the ESRB. We pay for vacations, and we give them frequently enough that you're not overburdened and overstressed all the time. It's part of your salary, in a way."
"Then, damn, we really earn the big bucks." I still felt guilty about having such a good job sometimes. There was no way I deserved it. I worked with people I liked, and they pampered me and then paid me on top of it all? The tons of extras — security, housing, free food — it had to add up. It was like I was some spoiled politician.
Kevin looked at me and blinked. "Hey," he said more gently, then got up and came around his desk to me. "You okay, buddy?" He put a hand up as if to touch my face, and then withdrew instead.
"Mm-hm," I said. But I shuffled closer, and when he got the hint and opened his arms to embrace me, I put my head down on his shoulder and closed my eyes. I breathed through my nose, deeply, trying to control the errant emotions swamping me. Sometimes I felt very small and stupid and unworthy.
"You two having a problem?" he asked, trying to sound neutral and keep the worry out of his voice.
"No. Just feeling out of my league," I admitted.
He tightened his embrace, giving me the sort of hug I relished, and then released me and held me at arm's length. "That's my decision, and I say you're not." He gave me a little shake and an affectionate smile. "You're mine, Peter. Don't forget that. And it's not your choice what you earn or how frequently you have vacations. It's mine — because I want to keep working with you. I'm not letting the ESRB take you away over salary issues or vacations or anything of the sort. Now, will you let me handle it and trust I know what I'm doing?"
I wanted to believe him and accept it, and since he believed what he was saying very much indeed, it was easy to nod. "Good boy," he said, and I laughed at the teasing tone in his voice.
"I'm not a dog!"
He swiped at my hair, trying to keep his mouth from twitching into a grin. I ducked away from him, feeling happier than I had moments before. It was easy lately to let Kev be in charge of things. I hoped I wouldn't forget how to handle myself if I ever didn't have his support.
Then again, I'd never been much good at handling my own life in the past when I was fully responsible. Debts, bad jobs, the car accident, a string of boyfriends, and a lot of people wanting to punch me in the face had been my life companions.
I occasionally felt out of place here, but I always trusted Kev to look after my welfare better than I'd been able to do on my own, even when I was trying my very hardest. I'm not sure what that says about me, to be honest. Probably nothing good.
I went back to accompanying Ell on his rounds and helping Kev out with truths and falsehood readings where needed, till he got the vacation all thrown together and let us know we'd be flying out in the morning.
Ellery was excited, really excited, and glad I'd chosen the Swiss resort. He loved the hot chocolate they made there, and the views from the window. But it hadn't occurred to him to pick it till I suggested it, at which time his emotions had lit up with a kind of "of course!" triumphant happiness.
I didn't know where the paralyzing trouble with snap decisions had come from in his case, but perhaps it had been learned half a lifetime ago, or was something like the way I'd felt talking to Kev — that I was stupid and not worth all this bother.
I helped him pack, and he helped me pack, with occasional breaks for silliness, kissing, or sock battles. I loved that we could be childish together. When I lurked behind him and tossed a balled-up sock at him, he didn't give me an eye-rolling annoyed look; he laughed and threw one back.
#
I hadn't realized we'd been so busy lately, but from how good it felt to relax, we must've both been more stressed than I'd known. You'd think I'd be able to read his stress even when I couldn't notice my own. But only now, with the relaxation, lounging around, and sleeping in late, did I feel how stressed we must've been. We both felt so light in comparison now, like we could breathe again . . .
"I hate being such a lightweight," I admitted to Ell over a cup of hot chocolate. He had a little chocolate mustache on his lip, but I'd resisted saying anything about it; it kept making me want to laugh, and I didn't want him wiping it off. I took my fun where I could find it.
"Oh?" He looked up, raising inquiring brows at me, curious.
I tossed a crumpled napkin at him. "You know. Feeling insecure, needing to be taken care of so much. Self-doubt. Depression. Need I go on?"
He thought about it for a second. "You usually seem pretty together to me. You used to run your own business. You've never been locked up for mental illness. You're even good at making decisions." He flicked the napkin back at me.
"Thanks." I had to admit his assessment made me feel better — flattered, even. "But the business didn't pay very well."
"You made a living," he pointed out, leaning over and poking me on the shoulder. "And you were a private investigator, which, let's face it, that's just cool." He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, smiling at me. "I'm dating a private eye."
"Yeah, it was real Chandler stuff." I rolled my eyes.
"Who?"
I bit back a laugh. "Raymond Chandler? The famous — forget it."
"Oh, fiction. Well, you know me. I'm a movie buff. I've probably seen the movie but not read the book."
"And here you pretend to be so smart," I teased.
"I do not! I'm dumb as crap!" He tried to look offended, spreading a hand out against his chest in a 'moi?' gesture.
We couldn't keep it up and both dissolved into giggles. I tugged him closer with a "C'mere!" and kissed him. He felt very satisfied with that outcome.
I suppose I was doing the worst kind of introspection, because the next day, when I should've been focusing on other things, I had another question for him.
"Is it weird that my best friend is my boss?"
"What?" Now he looked offended. "What about me?"
"You moved from best friend to boyfriend. I meant 'best friend who's not also my boyfriend.' Or maybe I meant 'most emotionally supportive person I've never had sex with.'"
He reached over and pinched me. "I'm still offended by that."
"Well, get over it and tell me. Is it weird?"
"Yes. And so are you."
"Okay, look, you're my best friend. Happy? Is it weird that my second-best friend is my boss?"
"It would be weird if it wasn't Kevin," he said, relenting. "Kevin's really a great person, and you two are something special. I like him and trust him, but when I see you guys together, it's different."
"You're not jealous?" I was worried about that suddenly. I'd always felt like Kev and I were closer than Kev and Ell, but I hadn't realized he might be bothered by that.
"No, of course not." He reached over and held out a fist. I returned the gesture with a fist bump, meeting him halfway. "It's just . . . you guys bonded more than I did with him. Or something. Anyway, I really don't think he sees himself as your boss, at least not most of the time. It's like you're partners doing important work together, and he really — I don't know, he's very . . . caring. Like, I'm not sure I understand Kevin, but I care about him, right?
And I know you mean a lot to him, on a personal level. You're definitely not the only one who sees that relationship as an important friendship."
"I'm glad you're cool with it," I admitted. "I've never been good at making friends. To have Kevin continue to like me, believe in me, be on my side — it feels too good to be true. Especially since I know it's never going to be anything more or less than that. He's never going to be interested in me sexually, and vice versa."
"Are you sure?" He looked at me closely. "I mean, how can you tell? Or are you saying that because you think I'm worried about you cheating? I'm not. I trust you both."
"Thanks. No, it's on a fundamental level. He's never going to be interested in me. He doesn't mind hugging me, but I don't think he's really interested at all in sex, and certainly it wouldn't cross his mind that he'd be interested in me. It would be like . . . like being interested in his brother or something."
"Is it like family?" He seemed curious, not wistful or jealous.
I thought about it. "Maybe. It's more than boss and employee, or even friendship. It's like he belongs in my life and I belong in his, and I'll always go to him if I'm in trouble and know he'd be there." I paused. "I think even if I stopped working here, he'd be there to help."
Although we had a few conversations like this (and quite a bit of showering together and sharing the bed energetically) we were basically extremely lazy for the next few days. We slept late, lazed around watching TV, ate all the delicious foods they offered us, and generally agreed we'd have to do a lot of working out when we got home to make up for it. It all felt comfortably relaxing and decadent, and the chocolate dishes were amazing.
It wasn't skiing season, but the views were still fantastic, and we went on some brief hikes — nothing too athletic, just enjoying the natural beauty together. Security was tight but extremely unobtrusive.
All in all, I completely forgot to be stressed out or worried. Perhaps I should've been; perhaps then I would've been prepared.
#
We were returning from one of our hikes, wearing disgustingly hiker-centric clothes (we both secretly loved it, even though — or perhaps because — it made us look far more athletic and outdoorsy than we were). It was our second-to-last day at the resort. We were both about as relaxed as we could get during the daytime. The staff had been wonderful, the food was glorious, the mountain air was intoxicating, and we were already planning our next visit.
That was when I saw what's-his-face again. The empath, the strong one — the jerky, closeted asshole.
Fortunately he was still striding up the hill towards us when I saw him. Ellery was standing arm's length from me, adjusting his backpack, looking particularly cute and fine in his hiking clothes. His dandelion puff hair was flyaway and windswept, and he looked innocent and calm and endearing in that heart-clenching way a person you love does. (I was thinking that word a lot lately, and it had inspired less terror in me lately. Maybe because I knew he felt that way, too.)
I'd have done anything to protect him from that guy. But fortunately, I had time. I reached out and nudged him. "He's here. He's walking towards us." My voice was low and intense, cracking. "I want you to go back to the resort. I'll talk to him, then follow you. You can't see him, and I don't want you to get hurt."
"What?"
He was looking all around now, anxious but clearly not seeing the guy. Seeing us, the empath smiled and waved, a finger-waggling wave, and grinned at me. Damn him.
"Go on, it'll be safer."
"No, you could be in danger!" he protested.
"I wasn't before. They don't want me. I think he just wants to talk to me — but I don't want him influencing you. See, he's already influenced you enough to make you not see him. Can you just go? I don't want him convincing you to leave me and go with him or something."
Ell looked hurt; his mouth was set in a fine line and his eyes were burning. Indignation rose up in him, but he looked at me hard, and then gave a tight little nod. "Fine." He turned away and trudged towards the resort. He looked back at me once, brow furrowed with anger and concern. He was not a happy camper.
I waited for my 'friend' to approach, glaring at him. I shoved my hands into my pockets. They were shaking. I had to clench my teeth to keep them from chattering. On the one hand, I really didn't think he could control me. On the other, I had the creepy, visceral dread people feel when they're really afraid of something, even if they know it's something ridiculous — spiders, for instance.
For an arachnophobe, knowing there's a spider near can be as terrifying and debilitating as a real danger to someone who isn't frightened by spiders. Right now, I thought I was in the position of the spider-fearing; I didn't think I was in any actual danger, but I'd had plenty of time to become afraid, and it was deep inside me, visceral, shaking me to the core.
I wasn't going to run; I wanted to face this fear, find out what he wanted. Also, on some level, it really surprised me that I was so afraid. I'd been curious to see him again, if only from morbid nosiness, but now, seeing him so suddenly, had me frightened of him and frightened especially for Ellery. After all, if Ell couldn't even see him, what other tricks might he have up his sleeve that Ell couldn't counter or even recognize?
I didn't run, but I didn't move any closer, either. I waited for him.
"Hey, Peter," he said, giving me a nod as he finally reached me and stopped on the path, facing me. He sounded winded. Loser. I thought it loud and clear. He grinned, acknowledging it with his dancing expression. "Insults, already?" He arched a brow.
I tried to think of some more. "What do you want, asshole?" Was he here to try to hurt or kidnap Ell?
"I was in the area. I thought I'd say hi." He made a vague hand gesture, like someone giving a speech. It was creepy facing someone from this close but getting no emotional readings off them. He might as well have been a plank of wood. I was so used to my sixth sense that it felt very strange to not have access to it; I definitely hadn't adjusted.
"Hi to you, too," I said, giving him a tight, cautious nod. I was still shivering and knew he was reading me. I hoped there were no secrets I needed to keep from him, because if there were, I was sure they'd immediately pop into my head and he'd read them in my thoughts. I was pretty sure he could read my thoughts as clear as a large print book, maybe clearer.
His grin stretched; he was enjoying my tension. "Actually, I kind of wondered if you'd test something out with me. I always know how far I can go with regular people, the ones with no talent, but I'm wondering if you can resist me or not."
"What?"
"I mean, I can't make you not see me. We know that. Can I suggest something to you and you hear it? Can you block me reading you? I know you can't read me unless I let you."
"You were startled that one time and I got a quick snatch," I reminded him.
He ducked his head, smiling at me. "Okay. I'll drop it again quickly. You can see I mean it, and then we'll test something, okay?"
"Give me one good reason I shouldn't punch you in the face."
"Because you want to know as much as I do. Admit it."
"Are you gay?" I narrowed my eyes at him. That was what bothered me the most, I think. It was also a tactic to push him away, of course. But if he was gay . . . well, I didn't want him stealing my boyfriend. He'd already seemed far too interested in Ellery, and that scared me.
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm really after your nervous little squirt."
"Take that back." I started for him then, my hands in fists. He raised his hands, placating me. "Okay, sorry, but I'm really not. I'm just not. Now, do you want to test this or should I go?"
"Um." I was panting hard, couldn't think. Adrenaline ran through my veins, making me feel a little crazy, and a lot desperate.
But I really did want to know.
I bit my lip, hesitated, and then gave the tiniest jerk of my head in a nod. "Yeah. Just quick, though. Don't make me do anything awful, if you can."
"I wouldn't."
I
believed him; I almost wished I didn't. But on some level it was like we spoke the same language. We were the same, even though we had different levels of empath ability and (possibly) different sexual orientations. He was curious about me, understood me but wanted to understand better. I felt the same way, and had for months now. I wanted to know more. That had always been a weakness of mine.
Ellery would've said not to put myself down, that my curiosity was what had made me a good detective. The only problem was he wasn't correct; I'd never been a very good detective. I'd been more prone to getting punched in the face than anything else, really.
"First, what's your name?" I asked, because I couldn't keep thinking of him as that guy I knew vaguely who was a strong empath but not ranked or trained through the ESRB.
"Martin."
I'd been so busy dating Colin that I'd barely spent any time getting to know other empaths, and none of them had seemed very interested in getting to know me. I guess we were all focused on getting the training we needed to find work — and probably hoping the other guys wouldn't beat us to better jobs. It hadn't been an environment to foster friendships, at least for me. I'd been that annoying guy to most of them, even the teachers, as always . . .
Not that this was going to be a friendship. No, sir. I had enough friends — I didn't need to go making people who worked for the enemy into friends, for pity's sake.
His grin widened. "Enemy, huh?"
"Damn it, stop that."
He spread his hands innocently. "How? I can't help reading what you're thinking. You're an open book."
"Books are outdated," I snapped. "Well, Martin? Show me yours first."
I thought his grin was less filled with confidence now, but I couldn't be sure without being able to read him (and I still couldn't). He gave me a small nod. "All right." And he lowered his shields — just enough. Just a tiny bit, and for a moment.
SURE (Men of the ESRB Book 3) Page 12
