9. Bane
CHAPTER 9
BANE
I ’d always been conscious of my size. Being six foot five, broad shouldered, and covered in tattoos, I cut a rather intimidating form that saw more than one person cross the street on a dark night. Not to mention the color of my skin or the fact I had one blue eye and one nearly almost black—all things that made me uniquely me also cemented me as something different from what people conventionally accepted as normal. I’d always made it a priority to not take up too much room, to not be too outspoken, and to keep my temper under control at all times.
It’d been two days since I’d run into the yard in a blind panic because a storm was drawing in, and River had disappeared into the woods my house backed onto and hadn’t returned after two hours. I couldn’t help but feel like my carefully crafted control was slipping through my fingers. I was slowly unraveling, stuck pacing my living room, held captive by the boy who refused to leave his room.
Every inch of my house sparkled. It was never messy; everything was always in its place, but every surface that could shine did. I’d even given my bike a spit and polish. The stylish black and chrome bodywork gleamed more than it did the day I bought it.
My shoes squeaked on the floor as I paced in front of the fireplace, trying to work out how to bridge the crater that separated River and me. I had thought that even though we’d just found each other again, that our shared past was enough to build from. That it was enough of a foundation for River to trust me and allow me to help him, but it seemed things were more tenuous than I thought.
God, all I wanted to do was help him heal. Help him realize he was so much more than he thought, than what he’d been conditioned to believe. To prove to him I cared for him beyond the boundaries of the case he was helping with and to show him he mattered to me. But how could I do any of that when he wouldn’t unlock his door or reply to my messages? I felt like a fool for giving him the key to his room, even if it was under the advice of my therapist.
Joelle had been there to support me since I’d given in to Martha Hendrix’s demands just before I started college. She’d preached at me the virtues of therapy since they’d adopted me, telling me I had to work through my past and that I couldn’t keep running from it, allowing it to control me. And as the child they’d adopted to replace the son they lost, I’d been drowning in survivor’s guilt. Not just for living when my family died, but because I was living the life their son should have been.
I’d never chosen to fight, but life had thrown me in the pit and dared me to survive. So that’s what I did. I got up every day and fought. My life might not have been pretty, but I was still here. I just didn’t know if I could manage another twenty-four hours of silence from River. That fight, that need to survive, had shifted its focus from my life onto his, and as hard as it was to accept, I knew I couldn’t control another person.
Instead of allowing everything in my mind to run riot and dredge up issues with myself that I’d spent years dealing with, I did the only thing that seemed logical and picked up my phone to speak with the woman who had been a constant source of support.
“Hello, Jacob. How are you today?”
“Hi, Joelle. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“For you, Jacob, always.” Her voice was smooth like molasses, and it immediately calmed me enough so I wasn’t climbing the walls. “What’s going on that made you reach out to me before our appointment next week?”
I sighed and collapsed onto the couch. “I… um… did what you said and gave River the key to his room after I spoke to you.”
“I see,” she said softly. “And how is that going?”
“Well.” I huffed out an exasperated breath. “The last time I saw or spoke to him was the night I gave him the key.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
“Like I’m going crazy, if I’m honest.”
“That’s understandable. Tell me why.”
I cleared my throat as I tried to think of a way to bring order to the feelings that were running rampant inside me without sounding like I was as close to the edge as I was. “He’s locked himself in that room since the moment I closed the door.”
“Go on.”
“I’m really worried about him and how he’s coping with everything. It must be a complete mindfuck going from the life he was living to being here. I’m concerned he’s not eating or drinking, but if I spend another night sleeping on the floor outside his room, I’m afraid my body will hate me more than it already does. Who knew wooden floors were so unforgiving?” I chuckled uneasily and ran my hand over my face, feeling the coarse stubble that was closer to resembling a full beard.
“Who knew, indeed?” Joelle hummed under her breath. I could hear the tapping of keys before she came back to me. “Do you understand what you’ve given River?”
“Uh, no?”
“You’ve given him something he has probably never had before in his life—control. He was in foster care since he was a baby, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Then he ran away when he was twelve?” I made an affirmative noise in the back of my throat. “So it’s safe to assume that he’s never had autonomy over his body or a space that is his and his alone.”
“Sure. He alluded to that much. When we were at Mrs. Wilkinson’s, we roomed with three or four other boys. But he’s shutting me out, and all I want to do is help him.”
“Try not to look at it as River shutting you out, because that’s as far from the truth as you can get. You’ve pulled him from the only life he’s ever known and thrust him into a completely new space with someone he doesn’t know?—”
“He knows me, though.” My fingers dug into my thigh as I became more agitated.
“No, Jacob. He knew you. He doesn’t know you now. Yes, you have history, but he doesn’t know the man you have become. He probably feels like the only reason he is there is to help with the case, but once he’s served that purpose, he’ll be on his own again. To be frank, he’s likely scared and uncertain about everything that’s going on, not considering the trauma he’s dealing with.”
“What?! No! That’s so far from the truth.”
“Does he know that’s how you feel though?”
“I mean. Well, yes? I think?”
“Jacob, unless you have told him that staying with you isn’t a conditional offer, then he will assume it is. So while it might frustrate you that he has, as you put it, ‘locked himself away,’ that’s not how he sees it. River is merely setting boundaries in place to protect himself. He’s also probably never felt safer than he does behind that locked door. You have no idea what he has endured.”
“But I’ve?—”
“You might have seen reports from the doctor who treated him for a concussion, but you don’t know, not really. The sooner you accept that, the better. River is safe in that room. His body is his own for quite possibly the first time in his life. He’s able to decide when and if he wants to eat and drink. It’s highly likely from what you’ve said that his abusers managed his intake or used it as a form of punishment and control.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“All you can do right now is be there to support him however he needs. But hovering outside his door or constantly knocking on it won’t help anyone and will only drive a wedge between you.” I gasped and winced. “Mmmm, I thought as much.” Joelle chuckled.
“I just want to help him more than anything.”
“More than the case?”
“I, umm…” I sighed and shook my head. I hadn’t really thought about putting one above the other. Not consciously, anyway.
“You’re in a tough position here, Jacob, stuck between your responsibility and the guilt you feel toward River for living a life he could only dream of.”
“I…yeah. How did you know?”
“I’ve known you a long time, Jacob. You take everything to heart. Misplaced guilt is a big thing you’ve spent years trying to come to terms with. It’s not your fault what happened to him. You were just a child. It was out of your control—just like with what happened to your family or the Hendrix’s son. None of it was your fault. Nothing you could do or say would change the outcome of what happened.”
I tipped my head back on the couch and sighed as it sunk into the soft cushion, allowing my eyes to fall shut. My head pounded like my skull was too small for the maelstrom that was brewing inside it. I pinched the pressure point on my nose, trying to alleviate the pulsing ache. “So what can I do? How can I help him?”
“Be there for him. Respect his boundaries and give him time.”
“That’s it? But what about the case? I’m getting pressure from my boss because I haven’t been able to provide any new leads or intel to him.”
“What’s more important right now?”
I wanted to say River. I couldn’t handle seeing the desolation that churned in his eyes, or the ghosts that seemed to pass across them like shadows. Joelle was right. I didn’t know what he’d been through, not really. I could assume so many things, but without him feeling comfortable enough to tell me, pushing him might do more harm than good. And the last thing I wanted to do was cause him more pain or make him feel like he was an obligation.
“I should say my job.”
“The work you do is very important, even if it can feel like a thankless task most days.”
I snorted. She wasn’t wrong there. “But there’s something about River. There always has been something that filled me with this irrational need to take care of him. To protect him, and…” My words died on my tongue when I realized what I was about to say. Love him.
“You are an amazing individual, Jacob. You’re led by your heart and want to fix everything for everyone, but you can’t. Just be there. Be open and calm when he’s ready to let you in.”
“Okay, that… that I can do. I think.”
“I know you can, Jacob. He’s lucky to have you in his corner.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “That’s all I’ve got time for now, as my next client is about to arrive.”
“Thank you, Joelle.”
“It’s my pleasure, Jacob. Just remember what I’ve said, okay? If you push him, he will react. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. If you push him too hard, too fast, he will either shut you out completely, or run.”
“I don’t want to lose him.” I coughed, attempting to hide the way my voice broke. “I mean, I don’t want him to lose this chance at a new life.”
“I know what you meant, Jacob. Take care.”
Joelle ended the call, and the silence felt even more suffocating than it had before. I had to find a way to reach River before he closed himself off from me and I lost my chance to help him or the case. I pulled up the one-sided message thread I had going with River. He’d read each one, but hadn’t responded to any of them.
If you have any questions about the phone or TV, let me know. I thought this would be easier than writing on scraps of paper for you.
Did you sleep okay?
Did you like the extra things I got you?
Just making some breakfast. Did you want anything?
Fancy anything for lunch?
Riv, talk to me? I just want to be here for you, but I can’t if you don’t reply.
Would you like takeout?
What desserts do you like?
Or candy?
I’m just watching a movie called The Old Guard. Do you want to watch it with me?
River?
Let me know you’re okay.
River, I keep knocking, but you won’t come to the door.
You can’t stay in there forever! Talk to me.
I’m sorry, that was rude.
I just want to help you.
Jesus, I was a mess, hounding him like that. “Fuck!” I groaned. Talking to Joelle had helped a bit. She knew what she was talking about, but it didn’t change the fact that this situation was frustrating. I hated feeling helpless, like I was letting him down.
I’m making coffee. Want one?
Three dots appeared and disappeared so many times I was on the edge of my seat until they disappeared completely. “Fuck it.” Jaw clenched, I headed into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. If he didn’t want to talk, then fine. I’d make him a drink and leave it by his door like I had all the others before going to work on old Mrs. Burrows’s car. It needed an oil change and a new battery fitted. Plus, I needed to check in with Montoya and find out when someone was going to check over my security system.
It wasn’t like I couldn’t do it myself, but Bower had wanted something more advanced than I could pick up from the local hardware store, so that meant Davis being involved, which set me on edge. The old timer didn’t like me because I challenged the “status quo.” More like it was a case of making him look bad, because I cared about my job and helping others.
The kettle boiled, and I filled up the carafe, added the beans, and depressed the plunger. It felt like the type of day that called for proper coffee. I needed something with a sharp kick if I was to focus on anything other than the boy in my guest room. While it was percolating, I sent Montoya a message, asking her if she had any updates on how things were progressing in the outside world.
River hadn’t touched the last lot of food I’d left him, so I made him a sandwich while I was at it. Although I didn’t know his preferences, I remembered him enjoying ham and cheese melts back at Mrs. Wilkinson’s, so quickly put one together and added it to the tray along with a bag of Doritos. When I reached his room, I rapped on his door softly.
“Riv? Here’s your coffee. I also, umm, made you a sandwich.” I licked my lips as I set the tray down in front of his door and listened. His room was silent, but he must have had the blinds open, because his shadow moved underneath the door. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and a squeak pushed past my lips when I saw a message from him.
River
Thank you, Bane.
Me
It’s nothing. Enjoy.
I wanted to fist pump the air, to jump up and down, to push the door open and wrap my arms around him and never let go. But I couldn’t. Respect his boundaries, I mentally scolded myself as I headed for the stairs. I only made it down the first couple when I heard the door creak open, and I caught sight of River. My breath caught in my throat, my heart freezing mid-beat as I took him in.
He looked paler than before—if that was even possible—his shoulders hunched and curled around himself. The dark smudges under his eyes had spread like a fresh purple-black bruise that was in stark relief to his skin. The hoodie he wore was down to his knees and swamped his frame. His choosing to wear my clothes made my stomach fall to my feet. His hands shook as he picked up the tray and grunted with the effort it took not to drop it. Fuck, how I wanted to run up there and help him. My teeth sunk into my lip hard enough to split the delicate skin, but my eyes remained riveted on him.
When the door snicked shut and the click of the lock engaged, I deflated, expelling a deep breath. I spun my phone in my hand on my way back to the kitchen, where I grabbed my coffee before heading to the garage to work on Mrs. Burrows’ car. My feet slipped into my worn work boots as I shouldered open the door. I had just enough time to put my mug down on the workbench when my phone rang, the quick succession of vibrations the only way I could differentiate between a text and a call.
“Hello?” I said, wedging the device between my ear and shoulder as I hunted for the tools I needed.
“Hey, Benson.” Montoya’s voice was chipper but had an edge of unease to it.
“What’s up?”
“Davis is bringing his lackey out tonight or tomorrow morning to look over your security system.”
“Alright, I’ll be here.”
Her sharp intake of breath was all I needed to know that something was up. “Ah, yeah, about that…” She cleared her throat in that way she did when she steeled her spine and looked at you with the full force of her penetrating gaze.
“Tell me,” I demanded.
“Bower wants you to come in tomorrow.” The sound of a door closing cut off the normal buzz of the war room. “He wants an update and feels like you’re purposely being evasive.”
“Seriously?” I growled and scrubbed my hand down my face. “I had a week. That’s what he said, before he’d…” I shook my head and slumped against my workbench.
“I know. I know, but something has him spooked?—”
“What?”
Montoya sighed. “I’ve got no idea. I haven’t been in the office as much since I’ve been staking out your place.”
“Did he say when?”
“First thing. Tell him to make sure he’s here, and that he doesn’t weasel out of it. He has a job to do,” Montoya said, mimicking Bower’s low authoritative tone.
“Got it. You coming in too?”
“Yup. He’s calling us in for a meeting at ten.”
“Okay. I’m gonna focus on Mrs. Burrows’ oil change, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You know it, Benson.”