It didn’t do anyone any good to hide Luke as though he were some kind of shameful secret. Luke was anything but.
The revelation was startling, and Avery almost sank to the ground.
He was still reeling from it when he saw Lucy’s form start to waver. He pushed his own emotions aside, resolved to examine them later, and focused on Lucy.
“Okay. They’re pulling you back. I know you know this, but don’t fight it. Let it happen. Let Shauni take care of you, and you’ll be just fine.”
She looked at him with a little fear but mostly determination in her eyes. Then she nodded once and was gone.
Avery closed his eyes and moved, and when he opened them, he was once again standing in front of Luke’s grave. He felt tears prickle his eyes, but they couldn’t fall in the spirit plane. Instead he stared at his beloved’s name and smiled.
“I’ll be better, Luke. Do better. I’m sorry it took me so long,” Avery whispered, and a light breeze kissed his face. He liked to think it was Luke, even though he knew his bonded’s spirit had moved on. “I love you. I miss you. But I’ll try to live a life that makes you proud.”
Avery felt the tug in his chest, and he closed his eyes, knowing what happened next. He hated that part. Coming back to life was brutal and uncomfortable.
But he could come back to life. And that was the important part.
Chapter Ten
WHEN Director Johnson’s phone beeped, Jameson’s heart started to pound. He’d already spent the past hour getting everything ready for when Avery came back to life. With deliberate care, he laid out the absorbent pads and made sure Avery’s med kit—which had been delivered while Avery was gone—was easily accessible. Now that Johnson had gotten the call, he pulled out a bottle of water and set that on the cabinet along with everything else.
The director pulled Lucy back first, and everyone waited anxiously for Lucy to draw her first breath. The director stayed close to make sure Shauni had everything under control. Jameson didn’t know what Lucy had experienced in the spirit plane, but it couldn’t have been easy.
When everything seemed to be okay, there was a collective sigh of relief. Johnson moved to Sam and pulled the sword from his chest. She barely even paused to set the sword on her cart before she moved across the room toward Avery and Jameson.
Nerves clanged in Jameson’s gut. This was it. He knew he could handle his side of things, but he was worried about his ghostwalker and determined to be sure Avery recovered well.
“Ready?” Johnson murmured.
Jameson nodded and grabbed the absorbent pads. He wasn’t as deft as the more experienced anchors at getting one of the pads underneath Avery’s body, and his fumbling cost them a few seconds of time. But when he was finally situated, he made sure his fingers were out of the way of the blade. He had the second pad waiting on Avery’s stomach, ready to slide it into place the moment the blade was free.
Johnson grabbed the sword and gently and steadily pulled it free. The moment it was clear, Jameson pressed hard on the wound to stanch the bleeding. As he leaned over Avery’s still form, he caught a whiff of Avery’s scent—something woodsy, underlined with citrus, and totally Avery. God, he smelled good, but Jameson pushed the thought aside.
When Avery finally drew a breath, Jameson glanced at the clock on the wall to make note of the time. Then he focused on Avery’s face. It was completely blank, and Jameson’s heart jumped into his throat. Avery didn’t move, and he barely even blinked. He just stared at Jameson with absolutely no expression.
Jameson started to get nervous. Avery should be crying or something. Maybe he was far too practiced for that. Maybe he was used to the emotional upheaval, and he didn’t need to cry. But there should be some kind of reaction, shouldn’t there?
“Avery? You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
Avery’s dry lips opened, and then he forced out one raspy word. “Luke?”
And then Avery’s eyes focused on Jameson’s face. Recognition dawned, and that was when Avery started to cry—huge, fat tears that rolled down his temples and into his hair.
Jameson’s heart cracked wide open. He turned Avery onto his side, facing away, and tried to think of something soothing to say. But all he could manage was a litany of “I’ve got you, you’re okay,” in his most reassuring tone. But he was dying inside.
Of course Avery thought he’d see Luke when he came awake. That had been his existence for ten years. To see Jameson must have been a supreme disappointment. What’s worse, it probably reminded Avery all over again that his bonded was gone.
Jameson tried not to feel hurt that Avery didn’t remember he’d be the one, but it was there anyway. He stamped it down forcefully and focused on Avery. He pressed his chest against Avery’s shoulder for a moment and then peeked under the pads. The wounds were gone, replaced by angry pink lines. He tossed the pads in the biohazard bag and adjusted the chair.
“I’m sorry.” Avery’s voice was so quiet, Jameson almost didn’t hear him.
“Oh, hey, no. No sorry. No need for that. I’m here. I’ve got you.” He sounded like a broken record. He pushed the hair back from Avery’s forehead and rubbed Avery’s scalp a little. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”
Avery nodded and closed his eyes.
“Jameson?” Director Johnson spoke quietly, and Jameson turned his head to look at her. “When he’s ready, you can take him upstairs to one of the suites to recover. Stay as long as he needs, and if you need any help, just message me. All right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Johnson smiled. “You’re doing well.”
“Thank you,” Jameson said absently, already focused on Avery again. He covered him with the blanket and then gently lifted his head to put the pillow underneath.
Avery blinked his eyes open, and Jameson smiled.
“You need pain meds?” Jameson had never known a ghostwalker to refuse them. Having a sharpened piece of steel shoved through your body left a lingering hurt.
“Please,” Avery croaked.
Jameson nodded, used an alcohol pad to clean an area of Avery’s upper arm, and then deftly slid the needle in. By the time he turned back from tossing it into the sharps bin, Avery’s body had relaxed. Jameson smiled and helped him turn onto his back.
“You need to hydrate. Will you drink for me?”
Avery nodded again. The tears had stopped, but his eyes were still suspiciously bright. Jameson tried not to focus on that. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to care for Avery. He’d deal with his own feelings later. Right then, Avery was the only thing that mattered.
Avery’s hands were shaking, and Jameson had to help him hold the bottle, but Avery managed half of it before he turned his head. Jameson set the bottle aside and adjusted the blanket so it covered Avery’s bare shoulders. It was a shame to cover that up. Jameson wouldn’t mind staring at Avery’s naked chest some more.
No. Stop it.
This was not the time to be thinking about how attractive Avery was. Jameson smoothed Avery’s hair back again, and Avery shut his eyes. Experimentally, Jameson rubbed his scalp again and Avery relaxed further. It seemed he liked that. Jameson kept it up until Avery fell asleep.
He checked the clock again. Then he picked up his tablet and made note of all the appropriate information. With that done, he took Avery’s vitals. He didn’t have Avery’s med sheet to know what Avery’s usual numbers were, but his temp, blood pressure, and pulse-ox were all in normal ranges. That was as it should be. Then Jameson finally sat back in his chair, though he pulled it closer to Avery.
When Jameson looked up, he saw the only people left in the room were the three recovering ghostwalkers and their anchors. Dominic’s gaze bounced back and forth between Avery and Lucy, only occasionally down at Sam. Jameson grinned, and Dom returned the gesture when he caught Jameson’s gaze.
With another glance at Avery to make sure he was sleeping peacefully, Jameson finally let himself breathe. He lifted a shaky hand an
d rubbed his face. Christ, that had been intense. It hadn’t been like that when he anchored Tyler. Then again, he had feelings for Avery, and that, coupled with Avery’s utter despair when he looked up and didn’t see Luke, wreaked havoc on Jameson’s emotions. His heart ached for Avery.
But he admired Avery too, even more than he previously had. He was so strong and resilient, and he’d gone in to help a ghostwalker in need, even though he didn’t ghostwalk anymore. He put others before himself when he had every reason to refuse. No one would have blamed him if he had. But Avery didn’t let that stop him, even knowing how hard it would be.
Jameson smiled and scooted his chair closer to Avery’s. He couldn’t stop himself from tracing Avery’s brow. He was beautiful, and in sleep he looked like an angel. As Jameson stared at him, Avery blinked open his eyes. For just a second, Jameson was caught in their azure depths, but then Avery’s mouth pulled down into a frown.
“I don’t want to be here anymore.”
Jameson kept his expression neutral. There were several ways to take that statement, but Jameson chose the most direct.
“Whenever you’re ready, we can go upstairs, and you can finish recovering.”
Avery nodded, and he pushed feebly at the blanket covering him. Jameson reached out and stopped his hand. He made sure he had Avery’s attention and asked, “Are you sure you’re ready right now?”
Avery blinked, licked his lips, and then nodded. His voice was barely more than a whisper when he said, “Please. I can’t… I don’t want to be on display.”
Jameson didn’t point out that they were hardly out in the open and that the other people in the room weren’t paying them any attention. Avery needed to get out of there, and Jameson needed to make that happen. He sat the chair up slowly, and when he was sure Avery wasn’t dizzy, he helped him with his shirt and shoes.
“Just sit there a minute,” Jameson directed softly when Avery made to get up. For a moment, Avery looked like he was going to argue, but whatever was on Jameson’s face made him settle back. Good. He wanted to get Avery out of here if that’s what he needed, but he would make sure everything was ready first.
Quickly Jameson cleaned up his station and left the blanket and pillow out to be laundered. Then he packed up Avery’s med kit and tucked it and their tablets under one arm. Only then did he turn to Avery and hold out a hand.
Avery was unsteady but not about to fall down. Jameson was still grateful when Avery let him pull him to his feet. With an arm around Avery’s back to keep Avery from stumbling or falling, they slowly moved through the door.
Director Johnson was in the lobby area, but she barely glanced up as they passed. “Suite one is open, and I had someone stock it.”
“Thanks.” Jameson kept them moving toward the elevators. They had three floors to go, and Avery wasn’t in any shape to do stairs.
Even moving slowly, it didn’t take them long to get to the suite. As soon as Jameson shut the door behind them, Avery pulled away. He was still a little unsteady, but he made it to the couch without incident and sank onto it with a grateful sigh. Jameson studied him.
“Need anything?”
Avery just blinked at him, and Jameson smiled at his owlish expression. Damn he was cute.
“More water? More meds? Something to eat?” Jameson elaborated when Avery didn’t speak.
Another beat of silence, and Avery sighed again. “No. No food yet. Maybe in a little bit.”
“Okay. Then what do you need right now?”
“Can you….” Avery bit his lip.
Jameson crossed the floor in four long strides, so he stood right next to the couch and looked down at Avery and the conflict playing out over his face. Jameson would give him anything he needed, but first he had to know what it was.
“I can. Just tell me. Whatever it is.”
“Can you hold me?” he whispered. “Just for a minute.”
Jameson didn’t say anything. He just sank down onto the couch and opened his arms. It took a moment for Avery to move, but when he did, he fit himself under Jameson’s chin with ease, and Jameson wrapped his arms around him and settled back.
It was exactly what he wanted. And by the way Avery relaxed against him, Jameson knew it was exactly what Avery needed.
Chapter Eleven
THERE seemed to be a disconnect in Avery’s brain. Shell-shocked. That was how he felt—as though a bomb had gone off in his vicinity and he couldn’t process what was going on around him.
Jameson was warm and solid against him. Under him. When had Jameson lain down? Avery couldn’t recall. He remembered asking Jameson to hold him, remembered Jameson taking him in his arms, but he couldn’t pinpoint the moment when they’d gone from sitting up to being stretched out on the couch. But Avery was comfortable, and the steady rise and fall of Jameson’s chest was soothing, as was the gentle weight of Jameson’s hand on his head and the soft, almost nonexistent rubbing against Avery’s scalp.
“Do you go by Jamie?”
Jameson’s body gave a tiny jerk as Avery finally broke the silence, and then Jameson laughed and gave Avery a tight squeeze of a hug.
“No.” He hummed. “Well not since I was a kid, anyway.”
“Can I call you Jamie?” Avery’s mouth had a mind of its own. He hadn’t meant to say that.
Jameson chuckled again. “If you really want to, sure.”
Avery thought that over for a long moment, and in the back of his mind, he was glad his brain was working again—well, sort of working. Avery shook his head, and his cheek rubbed against the soft cotton on Jameson’s chest.
“You’re really not a Jamie.”
“No,” Jameson agreed, amusement in his tone. He went quiet again, and Avery’s torso lifted as Jameson took a deep breath. “How are you doing?”
Avery contemplated that. Finally he answered, “I don’t know.”
“Fair enough.” Jameson rubbed his scalp again. “Can I get you anything?”
“I don’t know.”
Silence hung heavy in the air for a moment, and then Jameson slowly and carefully sat up. He kept his arms around Avery, but once they were sitting, he used one hand to gently tilt Avery’s face up to meet his gaze.
“How about some more water? Or tea?”
“I….” Avery scrunched his face up as he thought. “Okay. Tea sounds good.”
“Excellent.” Jameson hugged him again. Then he carefully disentangled them, and Avery sat back against the couch and closed his eyes. He listened to Jameson banging around in the kitchen and let his mind wander.
Luke.
Avery clenched his eyes tighter. For just a second upon waking, he’d expected to see his bonded, even though the rational part of his brain knew it couldn’t be. His heart ached, and he let himself feel it. Other than that one time when he’d helped Blake, he’d never ghostwalked without Luke. Michael had the gene, so when Michael anchored him, it had been different. Even though Jameson had done everything he was supposed to and even though his care and concern were evident, Avery still couldn’t help but feel the loss.
Jameson’s footsteps made Avery open his eyes, and he tried for a smile as Jameson held out the steaming mug. He didn’t think he was that successful, considering the concern in Jameson’s eyes when he handed it over, but Avery patted the couch cushion next to him, and Jameson sat with a sigh of what sounded like relief.
“I’m sorry,” Avery murmured. He brought the mug to his lips and took the tiniest of sips. It burned a little, but the warmth was welcome. Avery blew across the surface of the liquid and tried another sip.
“I told you, there’s no need to apologize. I sort of expected it, really. And I’m only worried about you right now.”
Avery shot him a glance. “You expected it?”
Jameson gave a half shrug. “Kinda. I mean, it makes sense when you think about it.” Jameson offered a small smile. “And it’s not like I have the gene. If I did, it would have made a difference.”
“You’r
e doing well, though—before, when I came back, and now too.”
Jameson gave him a look. “Stop worrying about me. You’re the one who needs the care. And I… I need to give it to you.”
Avery nodded and drank more tea. He let his thoughts chase one another around his head for a while, but he felt like he should say something. He just didn’t know what.
“The first time I met Luke, I almost punched him in the mouth.”
Jameson’s startled laugh made Avery smile. “Really?”
“Mm-hmm.” Avery leaned forward and set his half-empty mug on the table. “We’d just been paired together. He was so full of himself, sure that having the anchor gene made him hot shit and he could do the job better than anyone. Arrogant as all hell.”
Jameson leaned into the back of the couch and propped his head on his hand. He gave Avery his full attention, and Avery mirrored his pose.
“What changed?”
Avery shrugged. “We sequestered. I told him to stop being such a pompous ass, and he realized I wouldn’t take his shit. We spent three days getting to know each other, and by the end of it, we already started a tentative bond, though we didn’t know it at the time.”
“That had to be scary.”
“It was.” Avery thought about that. “And it wasn’t. We needed one another, couldn’t bear to be apart. We got together but kept it a secret.” Avery smiled. “And then I came back too early one time and nearly bled out. And our director figured out what was going on. Gave us a stern talking-to about keeping secrets, and then got us the help we needed so we could do our jobs.”
Jameson’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but before Avery could ask about that, Jameson said, “Tell me about him.”
For a long moment, Avery didn’t know what to say. How could he sum up the man who had been his everything for ten years?
“He was funny.” Avery sighed as he thought back. “Like sneak-attack, under-the-radar funny. He could deadpan one-liners better than anyone. And he was caring and affectionate. All the time. He didn’t care who was around or what they might think. I was his, and he wanted to show it.”
Somebody to Die For Page 8
