Chapter 6 Santos
SIX
santos
Routines meant I was up before Ever’s alarm rang. It meant that I had all the time I wanted to revel in how he’d managed to wrap himself all over me before my bladder protested his weight against my abdomen. I didn’t push him away, though. No, I just clenched and held my breath.
Every discomfort was worth the first good night’s sleep I’d had in I didn’t know how long.
“Morning,” Ever mumbled against my shoulder. I ran a hand through his hair, avoiding the couple of knots building there. “We’re pretty codependent, aren’t we?”
I scoffed. “I never understood what that means.”
Ever opened his eyes then. I supposed he was trying to scowl at me. It was pretty cute when he could barely manage to keep said eyes open. “You’re smart. Stop it.”
“Right.”
I didn’t mention that he was the only person out there who would be caught saying that about me. I just, gently, scooped him off me and headed to the bathroom. Sadly, en-suites weren’t much of a thing when this place was built, but the main bathroom was right next to his room.
“Want me to prep breakfast?”
“Actually…” I heard the soft pads of his fluffy socks against the wood as he walked toward me.
I hadn’t closed the door fully so that I could hear if he needed something.
It made me stay still now. So much was still up in the air.
“There’s a munch today. Maybe we can go?
I asked Danny, and Carlos will be there.
He’s a veteran, too, so I thought maybe… ”
“We can go.” Speaking before he ran off steam was second nature, so what he’d said only registered a few seconds later. “Uh, what’s a munch about, anyway?”
Ever stood behind the door as he answered. “It’s just brunch, really, but everyone is kinky. It’s technically open to everyone, but in the end, it’s mostly us in the inner circle and maybe a couple more people.”
“Okay.”
I sighed. I’d have to grab a cereal bar or something if I didn’t want my stomach screaming at me, but I could do brunch. I could also ignore the associations in my head to the kind of pretentious shit our families had been all about.
I wasn’t of royal blood, thank fuck, but my family was so well connected, I wondered which of our last names held more weight.
“Really?” I opened the door after washing my hands. “You’re not just saying that, right? I mean, it’s not too much? I haven’t been to the club because I wanted to give you time to settle, and it’s fine if you need more. You just tell me.”
“You don’t have to keep away from anything because I’m here.”
“I know, but…”
I’d be doing the same thing. I got it. It just frustrated me. I hated feeling weak. I hated feeling like I was putting someone out, the same way it had been drilled into my head since I was a toddler.
Asking for help was not a good idea. Asking for leniency, to be spared, was even worse. Awareness meant I could fight the notions some, but it wasn’t a perfect solution.
“Let’s just go to the thing,” I said. “I’ve been curious to meet your friends.”
I would’ve been just as happy not doing it and staying curled up in a bed with Ever, giving him all the affection no one else apparently gave him, but it wasn’t a lie.
Ever had clearly not told me everything over text, but he had spoken about this inner circle for way longer than he’d ever bothered filling me in on other people.
The café they were meeting at was one that hadn’t been open the last time I was around this area. It promised all vegan and vegetarian combos and all sorts of international dishes, while keeping a light, casual air about it.
It had nothing to do with the places my mother had taken me, with all the linen and cutlery and fancy chandeliers that weren’t supposed to look gauche but did anyway.
The realization helped relax me some as Ever led the way to a table that was mostly occupied by the time we made it inside. He had promised that we weren’t running late, but clearly, we worked on two different definitions of the word late.
“I texted Erika that we were coming, so there’s a chair for you, but we usually RSVP for the food.”
“That’s fine.” It wasn’t, but I placed my hand on his lower back and kept him close. “We’ll just flag a server.”
Ever nodded. “Are you sure this is okay? They haven’t spotted us yet. We can totally turn around.”
“Do you want to turn around?”
It took him two seconds to answer. “I do if it’s what you want.”
“Uh-huh.”
For better or worse, the military had made it so that I got much better at pretending that taking the lead came naturally to me, so that was what I did.
The table had ten people I could count, but the four tables smashed together suggested a few more stragglers. Thankfully, before I could attempt to assess who was the safest person to sit beside, Ever lit up at the sight of his friends and disentangled himself from me.
Well, no. Without even a glance back, he grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me as he greeted everyone.
I nodded in everyone’s direction and pretended that I was totally memorizing their names until Ever finally took a seat that left me next to a guy with tattoos and too many piercings and in front of another with light brown hair that looked way too polished in comparison with everyone else.
He was studying me, too, and he wasn’t being subtle about it.
“I’m Jaime, he/they.” I took the hand he was offering, the name stirring some memories. He was the one who made Ever nervous, even though he considered them close. If he scrutinized everyone like he just did me, I understood why. “If you ever want to be on my podcast, hit me up.”
“I’m sorry?”
Podcast?
Ever interjected. “Jaime has launched a political podcast. They tried to get me too, but I told him it wasn’t worth the bureaucratic nightmare.”
I snorted. “Yeah. Your poor mother.”
Ever snickered. “That part might make it worth it, actually.”
I hummed, but I was secretly glad that he had declined. I’d like to say I’d support anything he did, but as much as Ever liked to be contrary with his parents, he hated it when they openly showed their disappointment.
A podcast would ensure that happened.
The people around us followed with introductions.
The guy sitting next to Ever with a slit shaved in his eyebrow was Sergio, he/him, and the one with the piercings next to me was Danny, also he/him.
I was pretty sure those three were the ones Ever had mentioned, the ones who went shopping with him and were in the house.
Then came the other two men to my left. León was the farthest from me, at the head of the table, and Carlos was between him and Jaime.
Carlos.
The one Ever said had served, too.
I wasn’t sure that I could’ve called it if he hadn’t. He was bulkier than everyone else here, and was sitting more straight, but he didn’t look… I didn’t know. He didn’t have the look I’d come to associate with people in the military.
It might just be that I hadn’t met anyone who wasn’t active.
“Santos.” I cleared my throat. “He/him.”
Sharing pronouns wasn’t a thing I’d ever done. I’d read about it, sure, and Ever and I had talked about it plenty, but it had never been a thing.
Everyone here had done it like it was the most natural thing in the world, though.
“So, you served, too?” León was the one to ask the question, not Carlos. He had a certain air about him, but despite the question, I didn’t think he had. It wasn’t the tattoos or anything, but something was certainly missing. “Dan mentioned it.”
My gaze darted between the three men. “Yeah. Air Force.”
I was supposed to spit out unit numbers and more shit, but I’d never cared about all that posturing. Truly, I didn’t want to talk about any of it. I just wanted to have breakfast, and prove to Ever that I wasn’t a complete failure, and he didn’t have to stop doing shit because I was around.
“Army.” Carlos mimicked me. “Do you have a case manager yet?”
“Uh, no.” Fuck. My fists clenched. Hadn’t I just been thinking about how I didn’t want to talk about this?
Ever was right there, his hand on top of mine.
He hadn’t paused his conversation with Sergio, one that I could see had him blushing to the tip of his ears, but he squeezed my hand nonetheless.
I knew that if I pulled his chair closer, he wouldn’t even blink, but I froze. “I didn’t leave the traditional way.”
Thank fuck Carlos caught something there. He just nodded and then sent a look in Danny’s direction. It was enough for the questioning to stop.
Of course, the server came right away to get my order. An order I hadn’t had a single second to think about because they had QR codes for the menu stapled into the napkin holders, and nothing else, and… Fuck.
While I was in headquarters, breakfast was whatever they had at the canteen, and since I’d gotten to Ever’s, breakfast was whatever I could come up with after hunting through his more than half-empty pantry. Choices hadn’t been a thing.
“Decaf cappuccino and blueberry and banana pancakes with a side of that Greek yogurt with oats and maple syrup thing?”
Thank fuck for Ever.
And thank fuck for me finally mastering the art of not crying in public. I moved so I was the one squeezing his hand, which I was probably applying a lot of force into, but Ever didn’t say a thing.
He just smiled at the server as they wrote down the order and assured them it was okay when they said it would take a bit longer since they hadn’t had time to prep.
“We don’t order anything with meat when Tony or María are around,” he whispered into my ear when the server left. “That’s why.”
Uh-huh.
I didn’t remember a Tony or a María introducing themselves, but if he wanted to cut me some slack, I wasn’t going to fight him on it.
I was just going to get through this meal and let the banter around me wash over the remaining frazzled nerves that made no sense at all.
I hadn’t gone through anything traumatic. The psychiatrist who had warned me about an adjustment period and everything else had said I didn’t have PTSD or anything she could diagnose me with.
It didn’t make sense that I was losing it.
“Can I…?” Fuck. We didn’t hesitate or doubt our words.
It was a whole thing during training. I’d just…
Everyone was saying goodbye, and Carlos had stayed behind with León, so I thought I could take advantage of it.
Reaching out still came with tendrils of shame eating at me, but…
Ever. I owed it to him. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.” Carlos didn’t hesitate. “I wanted to talk to you, anyway, but I didn’t want to say too much while you were crowded.”
I swallowed. “I appreciate it.”
I hated that the consideration needed to be in place, but I was too tired to fight it. I noticed how I kept drifting between total exhaustion and whatever I was when Ever was around.
“I’ve got a group I meet up with every month. I don’t think we take people who’ve just gotten out, but one of them is a therapist. I can ask if he knows of any resources you can apply for. Or give him your number.”
A wry smile made it to my lips. Of course he’d offer to give him my number instead of the other way around. I wasn’t about to blow up because he was mentioning therapy or resources or any of those buzzwords, but I wouldn’t have called.
“Uh, yeah, sounds good.” I cleared my throat. I wanted to run a hand through my hair, do something with the building anxiety, but doing that would only remind me of how short it was. “Thanks.”
“Of course.” Carlos nodded. He looked like he wanted to reach out, but he held himself still. It was the kind of stillness I was more familiar with. Oddly enough, it helped. “What did you want to ask me?”
“Just…” The longer I stayed here, forcing air into my lungs, the more ridiculous—pathetic—my plan sounded. “How did you… What can I do, now, to help with the exhaustion and the choices, and…everything?”
Carlos grimaced. “Man, you’ve been out for what, a week, and you’ve just been to a crowded restaurant with a dozen people you didn’t know. You’re doing ten times better than I was.”
My nostrils flared. I wasn’t angry, but embarrassment sometimes manifested in me rearing up for an attack. Knowing didn’t dispel the discomfort clinging to my skin.
“You saw what happened. I couldn’t even order a basic breakfast.”
“There’s nothing basic about the brunch options there,” Carlos retorted. “And that? When I first left, I’d literally only leave the house to go to the bar my sister worked at. Not in a self-medicating sort of way. In a she could make sure I was fed because I sure as fuck wasn’t.”
It wasn’t a competition, though. I didn’t care that I was doing better than someone else, whatever that meant.
“I just want something to feel the same.”
Carlos put a hand on my shoulder. The touch was okay. Not the best, but it didn’t make me recoil. It was a win.
“It will.” For some reason, as cliché as it sounded, gazing into the green eyes and soft freckles scattered across them had me believing him. “In the meantime, give me your number.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Just because he gave my number to a therapist didn’t mean I had to pick up right away. It didn’t mean I was admitting anything. It was just an option out there. A step in the right direction that didn’t feel so overwhelming, the pancakes I’d eaten rose to the mouth of my esophagus.
Nope.
I was perfectly okay. Everything was under control.