Chapter Twenty One #2
I was perfectly well rested this time. At least I was when I left California. Nicholas had made it a habit of coming over, as if the first reluctant invitation was valid for every visit.
I was going to protest, I really was, but turns out getting fucked within an inch of your life against the wall, then in the shower, makes you tired enough to get a full night of sleep.
Once I made the connection, it would have been stupid of me to stop it.
Also, the convenient orgasms are part of the appeal, too.
The biggest problem was Nicholas's habit of staying over. But honestly, I’ve become too accustomed to waking up to the smell of a delicious breakfast to take a firm stand on the issue.
Besides, he comes in late after walking Mickey or collecting him from wherever he spent the day, and leaves early to feed him. So, I don’t really have anything to complain about.
By the time I’m ready to go to bed to sleep it all off, I’ve decided I don’t even need to think about what happened during the mission at all. It was another success. The serial killer is gone. That’s all that we need to take from the whole thing.
My phone buzzes as soon as I lie down. Sam.
“We need to talk about what happened in there,” he starts.
Damnit No, wait, this could still be salvaged. “All we need to take from this is that we were successful,” I tell him decisively.
“Yeah, that’s not all we’re taking. We’re going to talk about how you froze there for a few seconds. Seconds that could have led to something far worse than minor injuries,” he says firmly.
I blow out a furious breath. “I killed him. He’s gone. Why does it even matter?”
“Because the price could have been too high and I don’t think I’m willing to pay it,” he snaps.
I still. All my anger drains out of me. “I’m alright, Sam. I always get out no matter the situation, you know that,” I say softly.
“You used to. That has changed, hasn’t it? Somewhere along the way, you started leaving some part of you behind with the bodies. Please let’s not pretend we both don’t know that,” he says, his voice cracking a bit.
I swallow the pressure building behind my eyes. “Sam, I’m fine,” is all I can say to that. I don’t think I’m ready to acknowledge what he’s saying. And not just because he’s wrong, so wrong. I was broken way before I started killing. There weren’t enough parts left to spare.
He sighs. “Okay, you’re fine. I’m not, though. If something happened to you in there— Elliot, I know you don’t believe me, and that’s okay, but I can’t lose you. I just… can’t.”
“And you won’t,” I assure him.
“That’s right. We did this because you didn’t let it affect you. It was like one of your surgeries, go in and out. No drama, no impulsiveness. But things have changed. They’ve been changing for a while, I was just too wrapped up in it—”
“I—”
“No, Elliot, I was, so shut up.” He doesn’t let me argue. “But I see it all clearly now. We can’t continue this. Not at the cost of you losing yourself,” he declares.
My shoulders drop. I didn’t even realize how tightly I was holding them. But no, we can’t stop. I don’t even know who I am if I’m not doing this. I don’t want to be the scared little Elliot I was when we started our training all those years ago. We can’t stop. I can’t stop.
“No,” I plead. “We can’t. Sam, there are people who need our help. We can’t turn our backs now,” I insist.
“Let’s think about it, okay? We can talk about this again.
You need to recover from your injuries anyway,” he says, then sniffs.
I know I’m being handled right now, but I’m too tired to argue.
Besides, when Sam gets like this, there’s no point continuing the conversation.
Doesn’t matter whether it’s the optimal size of the television in my house or my entire identity.
“Okay.”
“Okay. Get some rest and text me tomorrow morning. No disappearing this time. Elliot, I mean it,” he stresses.
“Yeah, yeah,” I nod.
We disconnect the call after he updates me about how they found Jared’s body soon after I left, and they’re on their way to closing the case as a natural death.
I fall back on the bed, hoping my mind will decide to try something new and shut up long enough for me to fall asleep.
No such luck. I check my phone again after tossing and turning for half an hour.
My thumb lands on Nicholas’s last text from earlier in the day, right before Sam gave the go-ahead. It feels years away, not just a few hours.
Nicholas’s love of texting has gone down over the last few weeks, probably because he’s been spending all his free time driving to my clinic or my house. And he’s gone back to spelling like a teenager.
This text is a picture of a brand logo followed by a question. Ok for micky?
I decide to reply now. What else am I doing?
Me: I have samples at home if Mickey wants to decide for himself.
His reply is immediate.
Nicholas Harper: U back?
Nicholas Harper: Will b thr in a few
It’s too late for him to come over. But I guess I can manage if I’m getting some quality Mickey time out of it.