by T. S. Ryder
“I just want answers. I need answers.”
Kristen poured herself a glass of water as Marguerite slumped at the kitchen table. The other woman joined her there and sighed as she sat down. “I know how that feels. It’s something Everett and I have clashed on a lot in the past. I’ve known him for six years, and he’s . . . he doesn’t like to think about the future or the past. He’s always living in the moment.”
Marguerite nodded. She’d observed that about him, too. “Probably due to the trauma that you both suffered in the lab.”
Kristen sipped her water. “I did wonder if our . . . if the curse would be passed onto the next generation. And since you said your daughter is like us . . . I guess that means I’m never having kids.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’d probably be a crappy mom anyway.” Kristen shrugged. “Someone with my damage shouldn’t procreate, right?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
Kristen snorted. “No, you’d say it in a much fancier way that would sound all scientific. Look, I don’t remember much. I remember that there was a doctor or scientist named Simon Bell who was in charge of me and Everett. I’ve wanted to look for him to get answers, but there isn’t much I can do on my own. Everett refuses to help me.”
Marguerite grasped Kristen’s hands, willing herself to stay calm. “Well, you’re not alone anymore. Tell me everything you know and I will do everything I can to find him.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
Kristen nodded and leaned forward. “Okay. But none of this goes to Everett. He wouldn’t understand.”
Marguerite thought about the big, strong man and his insistence that she does not bring up what happened to him. She nodded – Kristen was right, after all. He wouldn’t understand.
Chapter Six – Everett
Everett rolled his shoulders as he parked his car in the garage beneath his building. His shift had been over several hours ago, but he had stayed on late when another staff member asked to trade the late shift so he could go home early. It had been a more than welcome excuse to avoid seeing Marguerite again. He still couldn’t believe she would call him from work over that.
He had been tempted to go club-hopping as soon as he got off work, to put extra time between them, but this was his home and he wasn’t going to avoid living his life just because of her. It wasn’t like it had been a big, epic fight. And he wanted to make sure he got home in time so he could rest before the change. These days it was wiping him out. Although that could just be the emotion of it all . . .
As he headed for the elevators to take him up, they opened. Kristen stepped out, a bottle of his most expensive liquor in her hand and a smug smile on her face. When she saw him, she faltered, the smile slipping off her face. She ducked her head, the way she did when she was doing something she knew he’d disapprove of. He walked straight to her, his shoulders tensing.
“Hello, Everett.” Her voice was cool and even. “I was just up at your apartment having a chat with Marguerite. I would tell you that you need to wrap it, but I guess it’s six years too late for that. So, are you going to marry her, make an honest woman out of her, and give that poor little girl a father?”
“Don’t try to distract me. I saw your face as you got off the elevator. What are you up to?”
Kristen shrugged and patted a hand over her mouth as she yawned. “What makes you think I have to be up to anything? I just stopped by because I had to pay my stupid electric bill instead of buying food. I haven’t eaten in, like, two weeks. I was surprised to see your old flame, but she seems nice. Very concerned for her daughter’s wellbeing.”
“Kristen—”
“Don’t. Okay, maybe I’m a little jealous. You’ve got this opportunity to have the two-point-five kids and a successful, beautiful wife. You’re getting your shit together and I’m . . . I’m still falling apart.” Pain flashed over Kristen’s face and she glanced at the bottle of alcohol. “You know I’m only taking this for the calories, right? It’s hard to run on an empty stomach.”
“Marguerite is a psychologist. Maybe she can—”
Kristen snorted. “Wow. I never thought you’d be one to encourage me to get my head shrunken. I’m fine. Just . . . just maybe you’ll start trying to find answers for your daughter’s sake.”
What could he say to that? A weight sunk into his stomach as he watched Kristen walk away. What could he do to help her? He’d tried letting her live with him, but she never stayed that long. She needed help. Professional help. But who could come close to understanding what this was? Not to mention the severe stigma she carried against psychiatrists, psychologists, and therapists of all kinds.
Everett headed up to his apartment, lost in his own thoughts.
Marguerite was at her computer, hunched over the screen as she scrolled through an internet webpage. She didn’t acknowledge him and he wondered if she was still mad at him – although if she was, that was on her. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Still, he watched her worriedly as he passed behind her.
“What did you and Kristen talk about?”
“You, mostly.” Marguerite didn’t look at him. “Although she remembered a few things about the lab. Pairing that with the name Simon Bell, I might be able to find him.”
Everett’s heart seized. He stood utterly frozen, eyes wide as his head swung round to stare at her. What was she talking about? What was she thinking? “Why?”
“Because he might have a way to fix Elena.”
Fix her. Fix her. The apartment’s walls seemed to be closing in on him and the air heated around him. “She’s not broken. Just . . . just . . . special.”
“We don’t know that this change doesn’t burn out your cells or something.” Marguerite remained riveted on her screen. “And even if it doesn’t, it’s still putting her in danger. What would people do if they found out? Humans aren’t exactly well-known for reacting to things that stray even the slightest bit from what’s considered normal. I’m not going to let her get taken away and put in some sort of lab to be poked, prodded and dissected.”
His heart slammed against his ribs as his chest tightened. He rubbed it, choking back the worry that maybe she was right and it was all going to end in a massive heart attack. His collar was too tight. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt, trying to clear up his airways. A growl ripped from him as he leaned into the countertop.
“You don’t have to worry about people finding out if you’re careful. If she’s careful. The change only happens from three to five. Other times, it can be forced, but only through great effort.”
“Accidents happen.”
Everett growled again. “I’ve been like this for six years. You’re the only person who has found out, and that’s only because of Elena.”
Marguerite shook her head, her ponytail flouncing from one side to the other. “It’s more than that. I don’t want to have her live her life in fear. Never being able to enjoy a normal childhood because of what might happen if someone finds out her secret. I mean, no sleepovers? And when she’s older and she gets a boyfriend or a girlfriend. She’ll want to share everything about herself with them and what if . . . No. I don’t want her to be scared of herself or what others might think of her. And, quite frankly, I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want your own daughter to have a full life.”
His daughter. The daughter he hadn’t meant to have – the daughter he never thought he would have. He sucked in a breath, trying to move it past his constricting throat. He gripped the countertop.
“I never wanted a daughter. I never wanted to be tied down. What happened with you was a mistake. We should have been more careful. And then you wouldn’t even know.”
“Which is my point exactly.” She still didn’t turn, didn’t look at him. “It was an accident that I found out. I wouldn’t trade Elena for anything in this world, but she and you and me are proof that accidents do happen and that people can find out no matter how cautious you are in your life.�
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Everett shook his head. Blood rushed in his ears and sweat beaded on his brow.
“And what if I’m not the only one? You know that condoms are only effective like ninety-seven percent of the time, right? There could be others out there that are going to go through this. Do you want them to come to you with questions you can’t answer? And there are some sick people out there. Any one of them could simply abandon their child—”
“Stop.”
Marguerite turned for the first time. Her eyes widened as she looked at him. He clutched his chest and dropped to a knee. He felt his heart beating in his chest, his back, his throat. It was a heart attack. His airways closed up again. He had been poisoned. He was dying.
“Everett?”
“I . . . ” He swallowed hard. “Help!”
She rushed to his side. When she put her arms around him, he grabbed her. He couldn’t seem to stop himself. His arms banded around her waist, and even though she yelped, he couldn’t make himself release her. Images flashed through his mind, cold and heat flashed over his skin, and he knew that at any moment, he was going to be pitched into the dark oblivion, never to wake again.
“Help,” he whimpered again. “Help me, please.”
“You’re hurting me.”
“Help.”
Marguerite pressed both of her hands to his chest. “Everett. Look at me. I am going to help you, but you need to let go of me.”
It took a great deal of effort, but he managed to loosen his arms enough for her to slip away. She moved back a little but didn’t go running like he had expected. On his knees, he looked up at her with terror and pleading in his eyes. Her face was pale but she nodded, looking calm and in control.
“I’m dying,” he gasped out.
“No. You’re having a panic attack. I recognize the signs.” She knelt before him, just out of reach. “You’re going to be okay. I’ve stopped researching, I promise. We’re going to stop talking about it. You’re safe. I’m the only one who knows and I’m never going to tell anybody. Elena is safe in the other room. You’re here and safe. Nobody is out to get you.”
Her voice was firm but soothing. As he stared at her, her words almost didn’t register. It was more her tone of voice and that calm look on her face that started to ease the pressure in his chest.
“You’re safe,” she repeated. “I’m here. Try to take deep breaths. I’ll count and you try to breathe with it, okay?”
He nodded. As she counted to four, he struggled to inhale with her count, then exhale. Throughout the whole time, his gaze never left her face. Her voice remained soothing and, slowly, he was able to breathe again.
Chapter Seven – Marguerite
Marguerite watched Everett as the panic slowly faded from his eyes. He nodded as his breathing became more even, but he still pulled in breaths shallowly unless she counted for him. The tension in his shoulders eased and she moved closer again. She knew how terrifying it could be, thinking that you were about to die as the panic raged over you in drowning waves. Watching someone else go through that was frightening enough. It was only her years of experience that helped her to stay calm enough to talk him through it.
Eventually, she was close enough to gently rest a hand on his shoulder. Everett wrapped his arms around her again, but unlike when he was full-blown panicked, his grip wasn't crushing. Marguerite gently ran her fingers over his back.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him, keeping her voice calm but firm. “It’s just you and me. You’re safe.”
Everett rested his forehead on her shoulder. His body shook with barely noticeable tremors. “You must think I’m weak.”
“No.” If she hadn’t been expecting it, the statement would have shocked and dismayed her. As it was, it only dismayed her. The social stigma against people, especially men, showing any sort of trauma or sign of mental illness was staggering. She wished that she could go back and stop his trauma from happening, but she also wished that there weren’t such horrible lies spread about things like PTSD. “You aren't weak, Everett. You’re human, and you’re going through something that is very much part of the human condition.”
Everett squeezed her tightly for a moment before releasing her. He pulled back, an embarrassed expression on his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was like I couldn’t control myself. I thought I was having a heart attack or something.”
“That’s a common symptom of panic attacks. It’s a very frightening thing to go through. And you didn’t hurt me too badly. I doubt I’ll even bruise.”
She smiled at him, but he looked away, guilt and shame written all over his face. It was a common enough expression. She kept her hand on his shoulder and inched a little closer. “I’ve worked with a lot of people who get panic attacks. It’s more common than a lot of people like to think. It’s not your fault.”
Everett cleared his throat. “Maybe it isn’t but I...” He laughed a short, bitter laugh. “Here I am disappointed that Kristen refuses to get professional help, and it looks like I need it. But the thought of admitting I’m not strong enough –"
“It has nothing to do with strength. That’s a stigma that I would like to see erased. Do you know why I chose this field? Because I needed therapy when I was a teen. And into my adult years. And I had to figure out how to get it all by myself because my parents wouldn’t even dream that I wasn’t a perfect angel – that I had problems.” Her eyes darkened as she remembered the epic fight she had had with them when they found out she had put herself into therapy. It had ended with her removing herself from their lives and being put into foster care. “Have you had any of these attacks before?”
Everett ducked his head.
“You don't have to talk to me. But I am a trained psychologist and I know what you can’t tell others.”
He glanced up at her with a wan smile. “And if I want Kristen to do it, so should I.”
She rubbed his back. “Take your time.”
“It’s happened once or twice. More when we had just escaped the lab. It hasn’t happened in quite a while. I guess I thought I was over it.”
“Trauma isn’t something we just ‘get over’. It’s a complex . . . ” She shook her head. “I’m slipping into analysis mode. Sorry. Right now, you need a friend, not a shrink.”
“Friend,” he repeated. “Yeah.”
Something tightened inside her briefly, but Marguerite quickly shoved aside the heat that had flared through her with his quiet statement. There was no way that after what he had just been through that he’d be having sexy thoughts. He wasn’t saying he wanted something other than friendship. In fact, he was probably just surprised that she’d call herself his friend. After all, it wasn’t like they were close, or had known each other long.
“I need you to let it go,” he said, pulling back slightly to gaze into her face.
“Let what go?”
“Simon Bell is a dangerous person. If you find him, you don’t know what he’ll do. If he was willing to do whatever he did to Kristen and me . . . We were left without memories. And you saw what happens when I think about him.”
Marguerite nodded reluctantly. It was clear that Bell had done something extremely traumatizing to him and, from what she saw of Kristen, probably her as well. But who was to say they were the only ones? Bell could have gone on to other test subjects when they ran away. There could be others in the same situation.
And if they didn’t seek out answers? What happened if Elena did get sick? Marguerite had no idea what she would do if something happened and Elena was hurt or sick or had some indication that the change would happen outside of three to five in the morning. Why those hour? Was Bell some sort of witch as well as a scientist?
She had to have answers. One way or another, she needed to know what Bell had done. Even if going after Bell directly wasn’t an option, she had to keep researching. Find out some background, at least. Something for her to pursue, to help protect her daughter against possible comp
lications in the future.
“Marguerite . . . ”
His fingers brushed against her cheek and when their eyes met, the need burning in his gaze took her breath away. There was a question in them as well, a question that intensified as he leaned towards her. The thought flashed across her mind that if he was going to potentially be a patient or patient-like figure to her, she needed to maintain a professional distance.
But that line had already been crossed. They had a child together. He wasn’t a patient, and given their what their relationship already was, he couldn’t be a patient in the traditional sense. She was already in too deep for that. Their relationship already too complicated.
So when his lips brushed hers, she leaned into the kiss. Heat simmered just below the surface and an excited tingling started in the pit of her stomach. Her core tightened. She brought her hands up to cup Everett’s face, pressing her body flush against his. His big hands wrapped around her skull, pulling her even closer. She turned her face to press a kiss to his palm and he dove into her neck.
The tightened feeling increased as sparks exploded under her skin. Marguerite couldn’t stop herself from moaning. The fridge made a creaking noise and her eyes snapped open.
“What time is it?”
Everett pulled back and glanced at the clock. “Eleven. We’ve got a couple hours yet.”
“Couple hours,” Marguerite muttered. “Elena’s been getting up at one. We should plan on her getting up at midnight because of Murphy’s Law. And we can’t be on the kitchen floor.”
Everett grinned at her and bent over to nip at her earlobe. “Bet I can make you change your mind.”
“It’s not like when we first met.” Marguerite pushed at him reluctantly. “There is a little girl in the next room and we need to have a lock between her and us. I don’t want her to see this and be scarred for life.”
Everett pulled back slightly. He grimaced but nodded and jumped to his feet. He held a hand out to her and when she took it, he pulled her up and actually picked her off her feet. Marguerite yelped as he tossed her over his shoulder, one hand firmly on her rear, and carted her into the bedroom. When he tossed her onto the bed and locked the door, she couldn’t help but giggle.
