27. Willa / Greer
CHAPTER 27
WILLA / GREER
A n alarm intrudes into my dreams, and I smile. I’ve missed waking up to one. Living without a phone has sucked. In my old life, it would wake me up, tell me about the world, show me my emails and calendar, and basically, rule my life.
River taps the phone in his hand to turn off the sound. “Good morning, Sunshine.” After a stretch, he eases down and gathers me in his arms. “Looks like we’ve got a few minutes to relax.”
My schedule has me meeting with Beckett every other day, but not today. Grateful for the small reprieve, I turn my attention back to the object of my desire. “Where did you get a phone? And why didn’t you get me one?”
He grimaces. “Sorry. I don’t like to be out of touch with my… family.” Pausing for a second, he looks from me to the phone. “I can get you one, but why don’t you ask Oliver first? They seem to be watching you pretty closely. Might be better if it comes from him.”
I consider his words and nod. “A phone and my go bag. I don’t like being without the means to leave.” I dart a glance at him and see his smile brighten a bit. After the kiss last night, he tugged me into bed to snuggle. Both of us quietly agreeing to accept whatever happens. Let Fate have her way.
Pressing a kiss against his lips, I ease up from the bed and head toward the door. “I want to change and stuff before class.”
I’m excited to see if my manipulation of water was a fluke or not. Until now, I’ve been scared of using my powers, but whether I like it or not, I’m a part of this world. Might as well start figuring out how to live in it.
He jokingly lunges for me but laughs when he misses. “Go. Learn new stuff. Tell me all about it later.” His eyes are bright and happy again this morning.
Thirty minutes later, I’m walking toward Oliver’s office, using the tablet as my guide, but as I near, I hear him talking. Not wanting to intrude, I look around for somewhere to wait, but unlike Beckett’s office, Oliver doesn’t have an outer sanctum with extra seating. I prop myself against the wall a little farther from the door, but I can still hear every word.
“More are arriving every day. You know what he does there. He can’t be allowed to continue his operations. None of our actions have contained him. He’s gained more power and become increasingly less concerned with following the established guidelines. It has to stop. If that means going rogue, we’re ready,” Oliver tells the person, his voice sharp and to the point.
Nobody replies, which means he must be on the phone. I wonder if he’s talking about Hightower. Does that mean Raven’s captured more individuals? What are they doing with them? I creep a little closer.
“I’ll stand down for now, but we need to see movement. Fast,” he states firmly.
For a second, there’s silence, then I hear something slam. Listening intently, I wait, wondering if he’s still on the phone. He strides out of his office but comes to a halt when he sees me lingering in the hall.
“Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt,” I mutter awkwardly, tapping on the tablet. “Are we still having class?”
His perfectly pressed navy suit is molded to his broad shoulders as if it was custom made. There’s something about a man in a suit. Or maybe it’s this man in a suit, like he was born to wear it.
Oliver’s blue-grey eyes seem more blue against the navy fabric. Too bad they don’t give away his thoughts. Roving over my face and body, they relay nothing, which puts me on edge. I shift from side to side.
He slips off the jacket he’s wearing, revealing a crisp white button-down shirt and surprisingly, well-defined muscles. “We are. Outside. I need to get out of this office for a while.” One hand gestures for me to start walking.
“Okay,” I agree, almost jumping when I feel his other hand come up and lightly rest against my back. A loaded tension fills the air between us. Frantically, I scramble for something to say. “Can I get a phone? And my go bag back?” Why do I sound like a two-year-old asking for milk and cookies?
Not once do his steps slow, but there’s a heavy pause before he asks, “Are you planning on leaving?” He stares down at me, eyes watchful and cautious.
My hands wring together as I try to think about what I want to say, especially to him. “I’m very, very grateful for all of your help and Quaid’s and Jax’s, too.” I nervously pluck at the grey sweatshirt, drawing it away from my body. “Obviously, I know I can’t have my old life back, but this place feels like a prison. With everything so topsy-turvy, I need some sense of normalcy, like I’m still me.” I wrinkle my nose. “Even the tan buildings make me feel like I’m either in the service, a criminal, or trapped in The Twilight Zone.” Okay, maybe that was a little overboard.
His mouth twitches. “How do you know you’re not?”
I jerk my head around and grin at him. “A joke? Damn. I’m definitely in an episode.”
He laughs, and the dimple in his cheek deepens to something sexy.
I take a deep breath and continue, “Look, I know it’s silly. It’s just hard to leave everything behind, and without Lionel here to center me, I’m second-guessing every decision.”
He’s quiet for a few minutes. “I never thought about it like that, but that’s not a surprise.” With a grimace, he looks down at his suit. “I’ve been wearing some semblance of a uniform my whole life, carrying out orders given by others, and following their plans.” His hand contracts against my back as if he wants to clench it into a fist, but instead, he sweeps it down my back.
After a deep breath, he continues, “Here’s what I can do. I’ll see if I can figure out a better clothing option for everyone, and I’ll give you back your go bag, but no phone. I’m sorry. If we allow everyone to carry a phone, our security will be worthless. They’re too easy to track. I can promise when you’re ready to leave, we’ll give you a phone to take with you, though.”
Swallowing hard, I look away. I don’t want to give away the fact that River has one or how desperate I am for my own. “Deal.” Outside, the sun beats down on my forearms where I’ve pushed up the sleeves of my grey sweatshirt. “Where are we going?”
He points to the grouping of trees in front of us. “There’s a stream in there. I thought it would be a good place for you to practice your power.”
Butterflies dance in my stomach. “Okay, but remember, I’ve only used it twice, and both were in extreme circumstances,” I say with trepidation. What if nothing happens? Will he be irritated?
“Tell me about the first time,” he orders without any hesitation. When I don’t say anything, he stops and places a hand on my arm. “This isn’t going to be easy, but I need to know what triggered you to use your powers. It will help with unlocking them.”
My brows come together. I’m not sure what he means, but since I don’t even know how I used them, I don’t ask. Quietly, I tell him what happened in the accident. “The next thing I know, I’m sitting in a pond, staring at my parents’ car that’s in flames with them in it. I don’t remember what I thought or if I realized I used my power. The moment was brief and full of anguish. A blur, then I passed out.”
“And the second time?” he asks softly as we reach the stream.
I stare at the slightly muddy water trickling through the sand and rocks. There’s very little to indicate it’s even flowing. No noise, only the tiniest movement against the backdrop of one of the rocks.
Nausea rises, forcing me to swallow hard. Procrastinating a few more minutes, I squat down and scoop up a handful of liquid, then let it slide through my fingers to the ground. “Someone was attacking me. I used water to defend myself.” I stand and lift my chin, looking over at him. Bare bone facts, but it covers the basics.
He stiffens and turns to the side. “Thank you. That’s helpful.” He begins rolling up one sleeve of his pristine white shirt. “Has anyone told you about my ability?”
Anxiously, I stare at him and shake my head.
He finishes the second sleeve and drops his hands to his side, then turns back to me. “In its simplest terms, I have the ability to influence your mind.” He holds up a hand when I step back in alarm. “Hold up. First, I want you to try to use your power without my influence. If that doesn’t work, we’ll decide together what to do next. Every choice is yours. I won’t force you to do anything. I swear.” His hand raises in a ninety-degree angle with three fingers showing, and I snort.
“Isn’t that the Boy Scout oath?”
He dips his chin. “It is. I take it very seriously, too.”
I stare at him, trying to decide whether I should trust him. Lionel did. Said he was a good man. His ability is making me uneasy, though. It’s basically mind control.
With a sigh, I wave a hand. “Fine. Let’s give it a go.”
I look down at the stream. I don’t recall using my powers during the accident with my parents, so I concentrate on the feelings I had when Trent was trying to kill me. Terror. Anger. Fear. Hatred. Letting the emotions swirl inside me, I close my eyes and picture Trent. The resolution on his face. His ice-cold determination. The smirk on his lips.
Fury at everything that’s been taken from me rises, too. The maelstrom of moments that have brought me to this place. Here with Oliver. I raise my hands and open my eyes.
Water flows gently over the riverbed. Frustrated, I immediately close my eyes and try again, but the result is the same.
Oliver raises an eyebrow, but I clench my jaw and shake my head. I don’t want his help. I try again. And again. And again. But no matter how many times I try, nothing happens. I want to scream my frustration to the world. Why isn’t this easier for me? Blowing out a huge sigh, I finally drop my hands in defeat.
“You’ve suppressed your magic for years. Maybe as some kind of unconscious punishment for not saving your parents or perhaps because it scared you. Unfortunately, power that only deploys as a defense mechanism is unstable,” Oliver speculates in a steady voice. “If you don’t want my help, you’re going to need to let Beckett in, which could mean remembering the night of the crash or the more recent attack and pushing through those painful memories.”
Shuddering, I contemplate the thought of reliving everything and almost ask Oliver for his help, but the idea of someone influencing my brain is more terrifying than dredging up painful memories.
“Wielding power is much harder than I thought it would be,” I admit with sigh. “Lionel made it look so easy. He manipulated the fire at the gas station for a long time. Only at the end did his hand actually shake, but I couldn’t tell if that was due to his injury or the depletion of his power.”
Oliver’s head jerks toward me, his eyebrow raised. “What injury?”
“Raven shot him. In the back,” I explain furiously. “It’s why I left him behind. He couldn’t walk and refused to let me stay. Hardest thing I’ve ever done. Last time I lost a parent, Lionel saved me—forced me out of bed, made me go to school, and basically, ensured I could live without them.”
It’s hard to remember those days. “Lionel was my rock. My anchor. Now, he’s gone too.” Those words cut through my bones like a scythe.
Oliver steps up beside me. “You know, I’m told I make a good rock. Older. Wiser. Solid. Dependable. Traces of humor.” He drops his gaze down to his suit. “A bit stuffy, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
I almost snort. This man isn’t the least bit stuffy. He’s a little older, certainly wiser, and his dry sense of humor is unexpectedly charming.
Is he being nice because of Lionel, or is about that sense of duty he wears like his suit? “Yes, but can I trust you?” His answer is key. Not because I’m looking for Oliver to be my rock, but because I need a little assurance about whether I should stay or not.
“I never lie,” he informs me, his expression solemn. “However, I’m very aware trust is earned, not given. Instead of telling you, I’ll do my best to show you.”
The fact that he’s taking this seriously smooths the ragged edges of the huge hole in my heart.
“Thank you.”
I scan his serious features, trying to guess his age, but it’s hard to tell. He’s a major in the Army. If he graduated West Point at twenty-one and it took him around ten years to achieve his rank, he would be thirty-one or thirty-two. Eight or nine years older than me. I don’t mind. I like the fact that he’s older. He could be… I instantly reject the thought of him as an older brother… a friend. With a smile, I follow him back to campus, where he points out the direction of the gym.