Somebody to Die For

by Kris T. Bethke

  Avery held up a hand. “You can’t protect me forever.”

  Michael’s voice was all growl. “Yes. I can.”

  Laughing, Avery patted Michael’s chest and took another step back. “This one is on me. Sort of. I just need to handle things better, is all.”

  “You have been.”

  Avery cocked his head to the side. Michael was right, but it was nice to have that reminder. He’d never get over Luke. He’d never stop loving him, but he no longer felt as though he were being stabbed in the chest every day. It still hurt, and there were times, like a few minutes ago, when the realization that he no longer had his bonded and husband shredded his heart. But he was healing.

  For just a second, it was hard to breathe. The thought of no longer hurting over Luke felt like a betrayal. He’d lost everything the day Luke died. He couldn’t just be better.

  Michael wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, and the action startled Avery enough that he sucked in a breath. The stars that had started to swim before his eyes disappeared. He mentally reminded himself that breathing was necessary.

  “I still love him,” Avery whispered, half to himself. That was important, that he remembered that.

  “Of course you do.”

  Avery shrugged off Michael’s hand and straightened to his full height. He squared his shoulders and looked up into Michael’s eyes.

  “I’m good.”

  Michael studied him for a moment longer, and Avery let him, knowing that Michael was probably reading him. He’d long ago given Michael permission to use his telepathy whenever he felt it necessary. He trusted Michael implicitly. And more than once in the past, Michael’s ability had worked to his favor and helped Avery through something he couldn’t even name.

  After a moment Michael smiled. “I’m here if you need me.”

  “I know.”

  “Good. Remember that.”

  “I will.”

  Michael turned and started down the stairs. “Go eat.”

  Avery flipped him off, although Michael’s back was turned. Michael couldn’t stop taking care of him. That was nice, even if Avery would never say it out loud.

  “I heard it anyway.”

  Avery laughed and continued on his way to the cafeteria.

  He made a point not to make eye contact with anyone and just headed straight for the line. After choosing a salad and sandwich, he looked over the desserts. He even went so far as to pick up a piece of plain cheesecake, consider it, and put it back. He didn’t need the calories, but it looked delicious.

  Avery found a secluded spot in the back corner where the noise wasn’t as loud. He sat with his back to the rest of the room so he could ignore everyone and hopefully, they would ignore him as well.

  It wasn’t easy to shut his brain off. With Luke on his mind, suddenly all Avery could do was remember. Even though four years had passed, Avery could still practically feel the touch of Luke’s hand and hear his soft voice as he soothed Avery’s worries. They’d been a perfect match, almost right from the beginning. Avery smiled to himself, recalling how they’d bonded before they even realized what they were doing. It had been a magical time in their lives, and Avery didn’t regret it. He still wanted Luke with him, but he was infinitely glad he’d had ten years with him. Most people didn’t know that kind of love and connection in their lifetimes.

  The thought struck him hard, and Avery pursed his lips as he contemplated it. Even six months earlier, he hadn’t been able to believe it. He told himself a million times that he was lucky to love Luke, but this was the first time he completely believed it. He brought a hand to his chest, where he wore his wedding band on a chain around his neck. Taking it off his finger had been hard. He’d made sure Luke’s was on his finger when he buried him. It seemed wrong to remove his own when Luke would wear his for eternity. But a few months ago, he’d finally been ready.

  He reminded himself that living his life didn’t mean forgetting Luke. He would probably never love again—how could he when he’d known what the true thing felt like?—but that didn’t mean he had to be sad all the time.

  Avery’s mental pep talk helped, and he let out a slow breath. He was okay. He could do it. With a sigh he picked up his fork.

  Chapter Four

  JAMESON felt awful. His brain-to-mouth filter was obviously nonfunctioning, and he’d offended and upset the one person he really didn’t want to offend and upset. After mentally berating himself, he sprinted after Avery, hoping to make sure Avery knew just how sorry he was.

  But Jameson lost him and kicked the wall in frustration, hard enough to leave a black scuff from the sole of his boot. All right. Time to move to Plan B. Well, first he’d have to make a Plan B, and then he could implement it.

  He grabbed a sandwich and a soda for lunch and sat down in a relatively quiet corner of the cafeteria. He ate, thought, and made a few notes. Between one bite and the next, Jameson glanced up. His breath caught. Avery was in the line, picking out his lunch. Jameson couldn’t tear his gaze away. He watched as Avery made his careful selections and put them on his tray. Avery considered a piece of cheesecake, then delicately put it back, picked up his tray, and headed for a far corner.

  After wolfing down the rest of his sandwich, Jameson stood, tucked his binder under his arm, and tossed out his garbage. Then he headed for the line so he could retrieve that dessert and hopefully use it as a peace offering. He took several deep breaths, centered himself as they’d been taught, and then crossed the floor and wove around tables until he got to Avery’s.

  Avery didn’t look up. Jameson waited for a moment, hoping he’d acknowledge his presence. But after a few beats, he realized Avery was lost in thought and probably didn’t even know Jameson was standing there like an eager puppy.

  He set the dessert down gently. Avery’s whole body gave a tiny jerk as the interruption intruded on his musings. He looked up, and Jameson gave a small smile.

  “Please. Allow me to make amends. I was thoughtless and….” He tried to think of what else to say and finally settled on “I’m sorry.”

  The scowl on Avery’s face softened just a bit. It didn’t disappear completely, but at least it was progress.

  “You’ve said that several times already. You can stop now. I believe you.”

  Not forgiveness. Jameson supposed he didn’t deserve to be forgiven. Not yet. He nodded and shuffled his feet. He caught Avery’s gaze and held it. “Can I sit?”

  Silence stretched between them for a long moment. Then Avery sighed and nodded once. “Fine.”

  Jameson wanted to happy dance in triumph, but instead he blew out a relieved breath and tried to keep his emotions in check. He pulled out a vacant chair, keeping one seat between them, and sat. “Thanks.”

  Avery didn’t say anything. He just went back to eating his salad. Jameson wasn’t sure what to say next. Another apology was on the tip of his tongue, but Avery had told him to stop, and he didn’t want to irritate him further by saying he was sorry yet again.

  Jameson flipped open his binder to the previously blank page where he’d been making notes. Keeping his voice pitched low he said, “My filter is bad sometimes. My mouth says things before my brain can get in on the act.”

  Avery shot him a hard stare. “You obviously don’t have the gene. If you did, you’d never make anyone feel that way, let alone a ghostwalker.”

  Jameson flinched. The jab hit home, and even though it hurt, Avery was absolutely right.

  “I know.” Jameson wiped his palm on his jeans.

  Suddenly Avery’s shoulders sagged. He closed his eyes, rubbed a hand over his face, and blew out a breath. Then he sat up straight, leaned toward Jameson just a little, and placed his hands on the table.

  “Now I’m the one who needs to apologize.”

  Jameson waved it away. “No. You’re right. And I deserved it.”

  Avery shook his head. “No. I was being rude because I was upset. You apologized, and I accepted it. I shouldn’t keep pokin
g at it.”

  Cocking his head to the side, Jameson studied Avery. He hadn’t thought of Avery’s words as acceptance, but clearly Avery had. Filing that bit of information away for later, Jameson nodded.

  “Really, I should grovel. Because what I said was—”

  Avery held up a hand, and Jameson snapped his mouth shut. For a moment they just stared at each other.

  “Let’s just…. We got off on the wrong foot, I think.”

  Thinking fast, Jameson held out a hand. Avery eyeballed it, and Jameson grinned.

  “Mr. Wagner, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Jameson Parker. If you have a few minutes, can I speak with you about some of the things you said in your lecture? I found it fascinating, but I would like a little clarification on some points.”

  Avery eyed him for a long moment. Jameson just kept smiling, holding out his hand. He wanted to start over, and he silently hoped Avery would get it and play along. Finally Avery huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes. But Jameson knew he saw the hint of a smile on Avery’s face when he reached out and shook Jameson’s hand.

  “Yes, I have a few minutes now. What can I help you with?”

  Pleased that Avery was playing along and hoping they could put that disastrous first impression behind them, Jameson sat up straight and gestured to his binder.

  “I made a few notes. My mouth sometimes speaks before my brain can catch up, and I wouldn’t want to accidentally say something rude and offensive.”

  Avery chuckled—a soft, small sound—and Jameson almost crowed in victory. Thankfully he checked the impulse in time. He got caught up for a moment, just watching Avery. He had refined features, almost delicate. Avery wasn’t a big man. He probably wouldn’t even come up to Jameson’s shoulder. But Jameson had always had a fondness for smaller men. It wasn’t a surprise that Avery had caught his interest. Avery ticked a lot of Jameson’s boxes.

  No. It wasn’t the time or place to think about attraction—not that Jameson would ever have a chance. Avery was grieving, and more than that, there was no way Avery would give a tall, skinny kid the time of day. Avery had experienced the bond, and Jameson didn’t even have the anchor gene. He didn’t have a chance.

  Jameson shook his head to clear it and focused on his notes. He cleared his throat. “You said that finding the right case was a combination of trusting your gut and talking things out with your anchor.”

  It wasn’t a question exactly, but Avery nodded. “That’s correct.”

  “Ghostwalkers really talk to their anchors about that? I mean, they really discuss cases? Listen to their anchor’s opinions?”

  Avery studied him and narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized Jameson.

  “Well,” he said slowly. “Each ghostwalker and anchor are different, of course. Some find too much talking disrupts their focus. But on the whole, yes. Absolutely. Why do you ask?”

  “Because in all the training I’ve had up until now, no one has said that before. The thing the trainers stress is that the case the ghostwalker takes is solely at their discretion. The ghostwalker makes the rules, makes the choices. And the anchor is just there to care for them.”

  Avery’s eyes went wide. Then he blinked. “What?”

  Jameson nodded. “I’ve learned basic medical skills, and meditation techniques and all the little things to help keep my eventual ghostwalker on an even keel. I know my role. I’m supposed to be there to make sure my ghostwalker is healthy and recovering.”

  Avery’s eyes went stormy, and he leaned forward. “Where did you train?”

  Taken aback by the low, dark tone, Jameson answered quickly. “Pensacola.”

  Without a word Avery pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and then his thumbs flew over the screen. Jameson watched, wanting to ask what that was all about, but before he could figure out a way to phrase it that didn’t sound rude, Avery tapped the screen with a flourish and tucked his phone away.

  “Okay, I want you to listen to me.” Avery looked him straight in the eye, and Jameson was caught up in their dark depths. “At the most basic level, yes, you are a caretaker. But that means more than just physically caring for your ghostwalker’s wounds. You are the support. The anchor. There’s a reason they chose that title all those years ago. You keep your ghostwalker grounded in this plane, and that means you need to be there for them in everything. You will become their best friend, know them inside and out. It’s more than just physical. You have to be there mentally and emotionally too.”

  Jameson let that all sink in for a moment. His heart started to pound. That’s what he wanted, the reason he’d gotten into the field in the first place.

  “But I don’t have the gene so—”

  Avery cut a hand through the air. “That doesn’t matter.” Avery looked up and gave Jameson a very small smile. It wasn’t more than a quirk of the corner of his mouth, but Jameson’s heart sped up. “Okay, it matters a bit. Those with the gene are, you know, hardwired to care. But the most important thing is your personality. If you can be all those things anyway, it’s not as easy as if you had the gene, but that’s what matters.”

  Jameson sagged, relief singing through his veins. “I want that,” he said hoarsely. “I need to be that for someone.”

  Avery smiled for real. “Then you’re going to be fine.”

  “I know I’m not there yet.” Jameson said, half to himself. His mind was racing. “Clearly I need to work on things. Since I say crap that’s unintentionally hurtful and don’t know what I should be doing. I mean, I know. But there’s this whole other layer I didn’t know existed. And that’s important. So I’ve gotta buckle down. But I can get there. I know I can.”

  Jameson looked up to find Avery studying him. He couldn’t work out exactly what Avery’s expression meant. They sat in silence for a long moment, just staring at each other. Eventually Jameson started to fidget.

  “What?”

  Avery shook his head, turned his attention to his tray, and started to gather up his garbage. “Nothing. You’ll be fine. And lunch break is almost over. Afternoon sessions are about to begin.”

  Jameson scrambled up and took the tray from Avery. Ignoring Avery’s surprise, Jameson just smiled and disposed of the trash and placed the tray and dishes in their designated spots. He rescued the uneaten cheesecake. Avery trailed behind him, and when Jameson finished his task, Avery offered him another tentative smile.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Jameson stepped in and closed the distance between them without invading Avery’s personal space. “And thank you. For giving me a chance and for talking with me.”

  Avery’s eyes went wide, and then his professional demeanor fell back into place. Jameson liked the smiles better, but he’d take anything if it meant Avery’s attention was focused on him.

  “Feel free to find me with any more questions you have.”

  “I appreciate that,” Jameson said, mind already working. He would definitely take advantage of that. Nothing more would come of their interactions—Jameson was sure of that—but at least he could spend time with Avery. He held out the cheesecake to Avery. “Don’t forget this.”

  Avery blinked and then colored slightly as he took the plate from Jameson. He stepped back and put a little more space between them. Jameson smiled, trying to let Avery know he wouldn’t encroach any further at the moment.

  “I’ll see you later,” Avery mumbled as he took off out the door. Jameson stared after him and wondered what had shown in his expression to make Avery bolt. He was determined to have Avery as a friend and a resource. He wanted to do his job well when he was finally paired with a ghostwalker. And he knew Avery could help him achieve that.

  “So is it true?”

  Jameson blinked and looked down at Gabriela. She sidled up to him, slid her arm through his, and directed them out the door. Jameson went along with her as she steered them toward the elevator.

  “Jameson?” Gabriela elbowed him. “Is it true?”
>
  “Is what true?” He pressed the button.

  “Did he really have a bond with his anchor?”

  Jameson’s insides washed cold. He shook his head, and Gabriela’s mouth turned down in disappointment.

  “He didn’t? But everyone is saying—”

  “It’s not our business if he did or didn’t.” Jameson’s tone was harsher than he intended. Gabriela gave him a wide-eyed stare and then shrugged.

  “I’m just curious, is all.”

  “Yeah, well.” Jameson made an effort to control his emotions. “It’s personal. And we shouldn’t go pushing our noses into someone else’s personal business unless they choose to share, right?”

  “I guess,” she said slowly. Jameson repressed a sigh. He knew from her tone she wasn’t going to let it go easily. His stomach knotted at the thought. He really enjoyed her company, and she was the one in their home group who really made an effort to include everyone. Jameson wondered now if it was just because she was nosy.

  “Please, Gabriela, just don’t. Okay?”

  She studied him for a long moment and then pulled away and nudged him into the elevator as the car arrived. She didn’t say anything, and Jameson didn’t know whether or not to be grateful. Unease cramped his gut.

  “Well,” she said just as the elevator stopped two floors down. “I think we could benefit from the knowledge he has to share in that regard, but I agree. It is personal. If he doesn’t want us to know, then we shouldn’t push. Though I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t want to share.”

  Jameson knew exactly why. His talk with Avery had shown him exactly why the bond was so precious. A ghostwalker needed their anchor to be there for them on every level. And if that had been deepened by a bond, it was a level of intimacy that no one outside the pair should be privy to. It was personal with a capital P.

  And Jameson would do whatever he could to help Avery keep his private life exactly that.

  “Come on. We’re going to be late.” Gabriela pulled him along behind her. For all that she was tiny, she had a lot of strength. Jameson let himself be dragged. “Dru’s already in there. Let’s go. It’s our first ghostwalk.”