The Untouched: THE UNSEEN SERIES, #2

by Sheldon, Piper

  But how could I learn about Julia’s abilities and just let that go? Let her go? She seems so eager to not carry this burden alone. She was quite literally lit up with joy just talking about it. Even though I don’t like keeping things from the team, I have a responsibility to help her. Maybe one day the team will understand. Maybe they could help, with Julia’s permission.

  I decide first thing on Monday, I’m going to talk to her more about the testing. She’s right. I don’t have time to delve into something this huge. But I can’t ignore the fact that she is somehow connected to the failing tests, and isn’t that my top priority? Thoughts battle in my brain and there is no clear, right answer. That, above all, scares me. Things are rarely black and white. Just points of views and a cultural history backing it up. Every choice you make as an adult is nothing but shades of a sunset, each color merging into the next.

  I committed a security infraction for the first time in my professional career. What if somebody saw? What if they are watching, whoever “they” are?

  There’s a bang outside of my house. I jump out of bed. “Shit!”

  It’s the FBI and they’re here for me.

  A second later I banish the idea as rationality overcomes my racing heart. It’s probably my brother who often stops over at random times throughout the night.

  I toss on a shirt and basketball shorts and shuffle to the door, turning on the hall light as I go. Outside, Lincoln’s tossing a basketball in the hoop on the small asphalt patch next to my driveway. His hood is pulled up over his head.

  I steal the ball and the shot arcs perfectly through the air. “Nothing but net,” I say.

  “Wow. The NBA should draft you,” he says dryly as he reclaims the ball.

  I can’t see him in the dark; the floodlight only hides his face in shadow under his hood. The relief that he showed up to distract me from my thoughts is quickly replaced by concern for why he is here. He isn’t ready to talk so we play one-on-one for a while. He’s much better than me. He may be better than I was when I was his age. It isn’t long until my hip starts to ache.

  “Let’s get some water,” I say.

  “Sure.” His tone is light but as soon as we get inside, I say, “Stop.”

  He stills in the hallway, his back to me. “It’s fine,” he mumbles.

  “Show me.”

  He sighs like the teenager he actually is and not the adult I’m constantly forgetting he’s not yet.

  “It’s not so bad. He got me before I was fully awake but I got out of there as soon as he touched me,” Lincoln says.

  He turns slowly but his face is still in shadow. I start to shake with worry.

  “Lincoln,” I rasp his name as a plea.

  He pushes the hood back.

  I suck in a breath at his bleeding, split lip. He turns his face away, a scowl sharpening his features. Pain and rage and regret flood me until my lungs can’t suck in a breath. The powerlessness overtakes me.

  “That son of a … I’m going to fucking kill him.” Immediately I hate that violence is my first thought. I am better than that man. To me, male power wielded over those physically weaker is the ultimate sign of a coward. But seeing my brother hurt, fantasies of walking into my father’s home and actually killing him burn my brain.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say as I pull him in for a tight hug.

  He flinches and stiffens. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to touch him but he needs to feel love from someone. I pull him in tighter. After a minute, he rests his forehead on my shoulder and takes a deep shuddering breath in. He’s so big now. He’s so much more a man than I was at his age and yet my father can still do this to him. Fathers have power over their sons, and they can use it in the worst ways. Generation after generation of old hurts causing new ones.

  “I’m so fucking sorry,” I repeat, at a loss for what else to say.

  “You didn’t do it.” He straightens up and backs away a step.

  “But I should be here for you. Stay with me. Tomorrow, I’ll take you there and get a bag, then you’re moving in with me.”

  I should have never let him go back. I’ll take a stand against my father no matter who he is.

  “You know he won’t let that happen,” he says. “In the morning he’ll apologize and say work set him off and at least he’ll be cool for a while.”

  “For how long?” I ask.

  “Until the next time,” he says coldly on a shrug.

  “There won’t be a next time,” I swear it like an oath.

  “Twenty months and I can move in here with you. Until then I just have to lay low and keep out of his way. This wasn’t that bad. I didn’t even want to show you.”

  With every sentence Lincoln’s voice raises in panic. He balls his fists and shoves them in the pocket of his hoodie. He’s scared. He’s knows what happened the last time I tried to get custody. My father has too many powerful people deep in his pocket. My calls to Child Protective Services were ignored. The police always sided with my father; he is the only remaining parent, after all. I was slandered in the courts for my long hours and unfit household. My father used his influence to make me seem weak, dramatic, and incapable of caring for another human. And in some ways he’s right, because here we are again. My brother is hurt and I wasn’t there. I was distracted by the shiny new thing.

  “Just because it could be worse doesn’t make this even remotely okay. Fuck, Lincoln, this has to stop.” My voice cracks as I plead.

  Lincoln just shrugs. So defeated. Already weighted with the adult understanding that when you have money you can get away with anything.

  “I just gotta make it a little longer. Then you’ll be wishing I was out of your hair,” Lincoln says, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Not possible. I could just keep you here.” Nothing would make me feel better than having him sleep under my protection every night.

  “Yeah, I’m sure he’d be fine with that.” He turns away with a sniff. “Got any food?”

  He wants to move on even though I’m still seething with helpless rage. I follow his lead, knowing if I push he will just retreat. He’s right though. Lincoln is a power play for my father. The more I want Lincoln to be here with me, the more he’ll fight to keep him out of obstinance alone.

  “There’s leftover pizza in the fridge,” I say.

  As he scrummages for a pop and a slice, I get a baggie and fill it with ice. “Put this on your face.”

  He takes it and puts it to the split lip after chewing half a slice in one bite.

  A few minutes of chewing, he must feel me watching him. “What?” he asks. “Your face is all screwed up like you have to shit.”

  “Can I take a picture? If I can build a case with evidence—”

  “And then what? We go through the whole process again? He fucks with your entire life again? You know he’ll do whatever he can to ruin your life. I can’t let that happen,” he mumbles.

  “And I can’t let you get hurt,” I say, emotion making my throat tight.

  Lincoln looks me dead in the eyes and says, “I’m not going to come here at all if I think you’re going to get involved again.” He’s already inhaled one slice and is reaching for the other one. “I know you care, man. I appreciate that somebody gives a fuck about me—”

  He cuts himself off and starts over. “But when you get involved it just makes everything worse. Just be here for me when I need you and feed me occasionally. That’s all I want. You had to deal with his bullshit too.”

  I have the scars to prove it and the limp when it’s cold. I’m not about to let this go but I know my brother well enough to not push. For now. He’s pale and exhausted. He’s safe here with me tonight. If that asshole were to ever come here for him, he knows I will exercise the second amendment. I gave Lincoln the code to the gun safe under my bed too. Money can only protect our father to a point.

  Lincoln shakes the pizza box. “What gives? Two slices left? I wasn’t going to mention your weight but when I have to
suffer for your fatty ways, I draw the line.”

  “Hey,” I say, patting my admittedly slightly soft core. “I split it with someone.”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, it’s a lady?” he says doing his best his Ladies Man impression. Years of watching old SNL skits has always provided plenty of quotable fodder.

  I scratch at my stubble and mumble something.

  “Holy shit, I was just messing with you, but it is a lady.” He shoves my shoulder. “Wonder of wonders.”

  “No. It can’t be. Not like that. We work together. She’s leaving in a few weeks.” I give the same excuses I have told myself so many times.

  “Oh yeah, because people in offices never hook up.”

  “I don’t care what other people do. It’s what I don’t do. Plus …” I trail off, hating where I was about to go.

  “Whaaaat?” He drags out the question.

  “Plus she’s incredibly sexy and funny as hell. And talented. Really talented. And I’m a chubby nerd with no social life.”

  “Oh, come on.” He rolls his eyes and I frown. “Is that really how you see yourself?” he asks with eyes wide.

  I cross my arms and look away. This was a humiliating thing to admit to anybody. Let alone your much better-looking younger brother.

  “Dude,” he says. “You’re like a fucking prodigy and you’re good looking. I can say that because I’m comfortable with my masculinity.” He straightens and pretends to brush lint off his shoulder. “Also because you look like me.”

  “So modest,” I say.

  “She must be something awesome because I’ve never heard you talk about someone like that.”

  I’m a man of science, of course, but there is no easy way to explain why it feels so right to be around Julia. There’s a scientific explanation that I just can’t wrap my mind around yet, like trying to explain cell phone technology to a neanderthal. I guess it just feels good to be around her. It doesn’t have to be any more than that.

  Also, she has superpowers and I’m risking my entire professional career to help her and also if she touches me, I might die. Good times.

  “It’s complicated,” I settle on.

  “Oh shit. You’ve got it so bad. I can’t wait to meet her and humiliate you,” he says with a laugh.

  And in that moment, I don’t care what he thinks about me and the woman I can never have because he’s safe and smiling and that’s all that matters. I have a contract to deliver and a business to secure. Because my whole world is standing right in front of me and I will do whatever it takes to protect him. Monday, I have to tell Julia the risks. This crush has to end. It’s unnecessary complications. Saving the contract is important. Giving Lincoln a future is all that matters.

  14

  Julia

  I’m full of buoyant energy as I bounce into the office super early Monday morning. I want to get ahead on as much work as possible before Nathaniel starts whatever tests he wants to run. I’m not thrilled about the idea of tests, to be honest. But I am cautiously optimistic that he might figure out how to help me. If anybody can, it’s him. Maybe just the acknowledgment of the issue from somebody else is enough. Like when you finally call IT for a computer issue and the problem magically fixes itself.

  All weekend I had no slips. I cleaned up my small house, I danced and came up with a few new routines I’m excited about. I even managed to only think about Nathaniel when I was conscious. Oh, I guess there was the one perfect dream that caused me to wake up tangled in my sheets again— but that doesn’t count. The point is, I was perfect, and for the first time since starting this contract, super hopeful. Physically, I’m on top of my game. I feel fantastic. No headaches. No body aches. Just me over here, living my best life.

  I’m bouncing to the music from my headphones when someone enters my office a little while later. I don’t need to look up to know it’s Nathaniel. He brings with him an aura that my body instantly responds to. He also uses a fresh soap or aftershave with a light note of masculinity that makes every part of me sit up and take notice. When I finally do look up, saving my work with a flourish, I realize Nathaniel and I have had very different weekends.

  Nathaniel is pale with bags under his beautiful eyes. His scruff is noticeably longer, though he is still ridiculously handsome. But he looks beaten down. In a flash, all my hope goes out the window.

  He regrets everything. It’s written all over his slumped shoulders and his pitiful, “Good morning.” He still has his light suit coat on and his laptop bag on his shoulder.

  “Morning,” I say cautiously. “Sit down?”

  He scratches his chin. A second later he nods and comes all the way into my office. He shuts the door and locks it behind him. Crap. Nothing good ever comes from locked door conversations.

  He sits in the chair and his legs bounce. It makes little ripples in my coffee on my desk. Like the bad news he’s about to deliver will be as devastating as the Tyrannosaurus rex in Jurassic Park. My stomach sours in fear. I can’t go back to before. I can’t pretend that I never shared with him.

  Please, don’t let me leave already.

  “Julia,” he says with all the somberness of a police officer delivering the worst news. If he had a hat, he’d take it off with a bowed head.

  I sit so still that only my hammering heart shakes me gently. “Yes?”

  “I rushed into things Friday,” he says. He takes a big breath and shrugs out of his coat. “I’m so honored that you shared with me, but I didn’t think things through.” He lifts his gaze to mine. “I want to be able to help you. I really do. But there are so many risks that I didn’t consider.”

  I feared this more than anything. Finally sharing myself fully, only to regret it. I shouldn’t have burdened him with my disorder. I knew it was a bad idea. I didn’t want to show him. I didn’t want to put him in jeopardy. I had been weak … and so damn lonely. I see that now. I wanted to be open with someone so I didn’t have to go through this all alone anymore. And I wanted him to be my partner. Instead of sharing a burden, I shackled us both with chains we can’t escape.

  “I acted without thinking too,” I mumble. I can no longer meet his gaze. “It’s too much for anybody to handle.”

  I sense him wince at my confession.

  “I want to do the right thing,” he says.

  “I believe you,” I say. He does. He always acts with integrity. I put him in an impossible position. “If you agree to keep my secret—I’m sorry to ask that of you, but if you can do that, I will leave.”

  I’m proud of the strength and determination in my words. My insides are crumbling like sand dunes in a tsunami. I could do this. I’ve lived my whole adult life like this. After all, all I want is to be normal. I don’t want to be tested on. I don’t want to be a freak. I want to stop hurting people.

  Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’ll save me from learning there is no hope for me.

  “Is that what you want? To leave?” he asks.

  I look up and into his eyes. The whites are bloodshot and make his multifaceted eyes pop with even more color. His face is contorted by mournful pity.

  “How can I answer that honestly?” I say.

  His hand rubs over his mouth as he contemplates my words. He’s nodding but his mind is miles away. He’s working out alternate futures, different timelines, trying to make this work.

  There’s a harsh knock at my office door. We both jump back in our chairs. I didn’t even realize we were leaning toward each other.

  I get up and walk around my desk to open the door.

  It’s Jared and he’s grinning. “Hey, Jules,” he says.

  “Morning,” I say. I can’t help but grin at the nickname. That grin is immediately followed by a seizing sadness in my chest. I’ll miss this team.

  “Have you seen Big Cheese?” he asks.

  I step back to open the door wider, gesturing to the man himself.

  Jared is all but hopping foot to foot. He doesn’t waste any time; he leans a lit
tle to talk to Nathaniel. “Have you been to the lab yet this morning?”

  Oh God, now what happened?

  Nathaniel stands up. His face is even more strained with tension. “More failures?”

  Jared shakes his head with a giant, goofy grin. “No, man. Every test not only passed, but exceeded our expectations.”

  I let out a breath. Nathaniel pushes past me to the door. His arm brushes me and a small static shock buzzes my arm even through my shirtsleeves. He shoots me a discreet look of concern.

  “Let’s go look.” He’s already putting his blazer back on.

  I step back to let them go. I guess the inevitable will come later. I force a smile at his emotional shift. They’re just outside my office and I’m moving back to my chair when Nathaniel asks, “Aren’t you coming?”

  “Probably not a good idea,” I say.

  “Come on, Jules. You may be a lucky charm,” Jared teases.

  Oh, the irony, my friend.

  The casual smile Nathaniel wears starts to fade as his eyes narrow in focus. “Jules,” he repeats to himself.

  “Uh oh, Big Cheese has his big idea face.” Jared says.

  Nathaniel’s gaze shoots to me. “Jules!” he says, bubbling over with joy.

  “Yeah, it’s a really clever nickname.” Jared shares a “he’s totally nuts” look with me but his infectious joy has me grinning.

  “No, not J-U-L-E-S. Joules, with an O.”

  Jared rolls his eyes and shakes his head conspiratorially with me. “That’s nerd humor for you. I’m sorry you have to deal with this level of dad joke.”

  Nathaniel is growing more animated. “You’re a fricking genius.” He rattles Jared’s shoulders once before sprinting toward the door and presumably toward the lab.

  “It wasn’t that clever,” Jared says to me. I shrug and we head after him.

  Something just clicked in that supercomputer brain of his and all I can selfishly think is that it will give me a reason to stay a little longer.