5. Ember
EMBER
ONE LAST brEATH – CREED
Sitting stiffly in the uncomfortable examination chair, I study the medical poster on the wall directly opposite. Your health is our priority. The urge to snort wins out. More like the extortionate cheques that Sabre is signing off on my behalf.
The EEG itself is painless. Nothing more than a sticky sensation where the electrodes are positioned on my scalp. When the technician asked me to breathe hard and fast to simulate hyperventilation, I tried to block out the reminder of how it felt to black out with Diego straddling me.
In. Out.
In. Out.
Breathing is easy. Right? Simple. Just like existing with the constant threat of my brain attacking itself and attempting to cripple me at any moment. Only that isn’t easy or simple, and apparently, neither is breathing anymore.
“Okay, Miss Lawson.” Alex, the smiley technician, directs me. “Very good. Just breathe normally for me.”
Tearing my gaze from that damned poster, I focus on his name tag instead. My lungs are burning, but he wanted to measure my brain’s electrical activity in a state of stimulation. Not unlike facing an arch nemesis hellbent on recapturing me.
“Any discomfort? Dizziness?”
“Some,” I reply shortly.
“Okay, take a moment. Relax for me.”
“What does the chart say?”
“I’ll let Doctor Fawn interpret the data for you. Post-Traumatic Epilepsy is a complex condition, but he’s well-versed in it.”
Great. No getting away easily.
I’ve been dreading the thought of this follow-up since I scheduled the appointment. While I haven’t had another attack yet, the other symptoms are persistent, and living with the constant threat is proving to be exhausting.
“I’m going to remove the electrodes now, Miss Lawson. You may want to wash any residual paste from your hairline.”
With the examination over, I wait for Alex to finish his work then bustle from the room with a sheath of printed graphs. The hospital bay falls silent, emphasising the roar of my heartbeat in my ears.
This feels so pointless. My health isn’t important right now. Not while we’re still looking for Tom—AKA, beating the hell out of Blaine’s captured honeypots until they give us their intel. Each hour is passing sluggishly.
When the door to the room rattles behind me, I plaster a neutral mask on in preparation to face Doctor Fawn. I’m surprised to find a set of olive eyes and a reticent smile entering in his place.
“Hey,” Hyland greets.
“What are you doing here? Is there an update from Ax?”
“Not yet. He’s still in questioning with Warner and Madden.”
My heart sinks. “What’s taking so long?”
“Those bastards are professional criminals. It isn’t so easy to break their loyalty. But they will break, red. They always do.”
“So why didn’t you stay to watch?”
His green orbs soften, brimming with concern. “I’m here for you. This doesn’t feel like the kind of thing you should be doing alone.”
Gawping at him, I try to fathom his behaviour. One moment he’s lecturing me about leaving the investigation, the next he’s offering moral support. The whiplash is acute.
“I’m fine alone. Always am.”
“You don’t have to be.” His canine digs into his lower lip.
“I’m aware of that fact.”
“Then why ban everyone from coming with you?”
“I didn’t fancy getting lectured by both my doctor and you in one day. That’s why you’re really here, right?”
Releasing a sigh, Hyland halts at the foot of the reclined chair. “No.”
“Then what is it?”
“Believe it or not, I’m here for you.”
“I do find that hard to believe,” I scoff. “You’ve made it clear how you feel about me being on the team.”
Something that looks a whole lot like regret twists his stubbled face, making the earthy hue in his eyes gleam brighter.
“If you’d just given me a chance to explain instead of avoiding me?—”
“Explain what? You want me off the team.”
“I was trying to protect you.” Frowning, his head slowly sways from side to side. “Though I can see now that I went about it in the wrong way.”
“You think?” I chortle.
“Look, Em.” His huge, scar-laden hands lift in a universal plea for mercy. “It was dumb and stupid. I was lashing out.”
“Great, thanks for acknowledging that. Now leave.”
“For fuck’s sake, will you listen for a second? Please?”
Chin jutted out, I make myself look up at him. Hyland looms over me, hands now braced on his wide hips and barrel chest heaving with each short breath. But it isn’t anger on his face. Far from it.
His generous muscles, height and oversized stature would probably be intimidating to any other woman trapped alone in a room with him, but I know Hyland would never hurt me. Not with his body, at least. His words are another matter altogether.
“You humiliated me.” Pain bleeds from my flat rasp. “I felt like I wasn’t wanted. Like I’ll never belong with this team.”
“Shit.” He pinches his eyes between his long fingers.
“You alienated me, Hy.”
“That wasn’t my intention.”
“Intention is irrelevant when your behaviour is hurtful.”
“You’re right.” Hyland runs a hand over his low blonde ponytail. “I’m fucking scared. I want to keep you safe, and I thought that was the only way. Regardless of your feelings.”
“Well, now you know what happens when you disregard my feelings.” A noxious ball gathers in my throat. “I let you in. That was hard for me.”
“I know, red.”
“Then you threw it back in my face.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Cheeks staining dark, Hyland looks up to the ceiling. “I can see why it would look like that to you, even if I thought I was doing the right thing.”
Wow. That may just be personal growth.
“The urge to protect and keep everyone safe…” His Adam’s apple travels up and down. “It overrides everything else sometimes. Even common sense. I can’t let anyone else get hurt.”
The shadows that dance in his eyes fill with spiked shards of trauma. Memories I’ve only scratched the surface of since joining their team. I’d bet anything that he’s seeing their faces right now—his ex-wife and infant son. The first people to get hurt on his watch.
“I want you on this team.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “You’re wanted. You belong with us, through thick and thin. Regardless of what I may stupidly say.”
Despite his words, the pain in my chest persists.
“Ember… I was wrong,” he elucidates slowly, deliberately. “I am sorry.”
We hold eye contact for several loaded seconds, a host of unspoken desires filling the space that keeps us apart. It takes time for acceptance to writhe in, cracking through my emotional shields to whisper its consent directly into my mind.
Eventually, I nod once. “I suppose you can stay.”
“I can?” His mouth quirks up.
“While I consider whether or not to forgive you for being an overbearing jackass, yes. You can. Just keep your bullish opinions to yourself, or you won’t have a tongue left to apologise with.”
“That I can do.”
“Fine. Sit down.”
Disregarding the blue plastic chair against the wall, Hyland leans against the wall in the corner on my left hand side. But not before pausing to brush a brief, chaste kiss on my cheek. The simple contact sends a pulse of heat swirling through my nerves.
“At the risk of pissing you off all over again…”
Seeing me tense doesn’t deter Hyland’s deep croon.
“…I must say, the sounds that Warner drew out of you the other morning were so hot, I wanted to interrupt to bury my tongue inside you while he was forced to listen.”
A flush slinks across my face, holding my words hostage. The idea of Hyland shoving his friend aside to worship my core is far too enticing. But not more tempting than the thought of having them both touching me at the same time.
Fuck… Would they do that?
“Did you come here to tease me?”
“No,” he denies. “I just wanted you to know that.”
“Well, it’s a little late now.”
“Is it? As I recall, we all live together. Your bedroom is next to mine. I could accidentally stumble in at any time.”
“What makes you think you’d be wanted?” I quip back.
A low chuckle rumbles from him. “Am I?”
To my relief, Doctor Fawn’s arrival prevents me from having to form an answer. The grey-haired clinician bustles into the room with a smile that I’m convinced required its own lesson during medical school.
“Ember. How are you?”
“Good.” I source a smile then plaster it on.
“Thanks for coming in today. These monthly checkups are vital as you come to grips with your new diagnosis and so we can monitor your medication regimen.”
Pulling up his own chair, he takes a seat then begins to leaf through some paperwork. The wriggly black lines that indicate the results of my EEG mean nothing to me but seem to be of great interest to him.
“Tell me how your symptoms have been since we last spoke. Any episodes?”
“Not since the last seizure,” I answer tightly. “Just some headaches and fatigue.”
“I see. Any dizziness?”
“A little.”
Nodding, he writes that down. “How is the shaking? Any involuntary movements?”
My fingers automatically curl, hiding the perpetual tremble that follows me. I can feel Hyland’s attention on me like a laser beam.
“It comes and goes.”
“That’s to be expected. I know we discussed your career last time we spoke, and I assured you that you can continue to work. But you need to listen to your body when it asks for rest.”
“I’m resting.”
There’s a deliberate throat clear from Hyland .
“I’m attempting to,” I amend.
“Over-exerting yourself is a surefire way to trigger another episode, Ember. Ignoring warning signs won’t help. Seizures are a part of your life now, but with the right self-care, we can reduce them.”
I nod at his stern tone.
“What about the medication we prescribed?”
“I’m taking it every day.”
“Any side effects?” He arches a grey brow.
“Not that I’ve noticed.”
He hums a pleased response, jotting some more notes on his paperwork. I’m acutely aware of Hyland craning his neck in an attempt to interpret the doctor’s handwriting from afar.