18. Chapter Eighteen #4
“He got in around three. I didn’t notify you. Full disclosure, I saw Nolan go to your room on the security cams last night, and I sort of… noticed he never left. I turned your watch off remotely so you wouldn’t be bothered.”
“Well, turn it back on. And don’t fucking do that again, Ace. I don’t get time off. You know that.”
“But why? Who says?” I shake my head, knowing it’s hypocritical of me to get on him about working too much, but it’s different for him.
He’s been through so much. He needs to give himself some grace to heal.
“Unless it’s an emergency, you shouldn’t need to be woken up.
It wasn’t your guard shift. I handled it. ”
Let it go. Please, just let it go.
God, I am so tired.
“Is Mica dead at least?”
“Yes.”
“Thank fuck.” He hauls himself up to sit on the counter across from me, the relief managing to take away a little of the weight he always carries on his shoulders. “What’s Trav got to say? Any additional intel?”
“See, that’s… the thing,” I hedge, feeling like ripping off the band-aid isn’t the right choice this time, but not sure how to break it to him gently either.
The look he fixes on me makes it pretty clear he’s not in the mood to wait, though, so I just say it and brace myself for the consequences.
“Trav came back still covered in blood, looking half-crazy and begging me to get out of his way so he could talk to Carter. He just kept saying ‘I can’t keep him,’ and ‘One more time, Ace, give me one more time with him’ until I just…
let him go. He hasn’t come out of Carter’s bedroom since then. Neither of them have.”
“Oh fuck me.” He’s already off the counter, looking way too ready for a fight. “You really, really should have woken me up.”
“You know, I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t have,” I argue, somehow finding the energy to fight him on this.
“Trav was crazed, Mais. Like - I think he would have pulled a weapon on you if you’d tried fighting him about seeing Carter.
He didn’t want to see him, he needed to see him.
I don’t know why, but he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. ”
“I’m going to go find out why, then.”
I slide off the counter, not sure if I’ll be able to physically stop him but feeling like I’m obligated to try. “No. No, you’re not. Give him some time. Something big happened, man. I don’t know what, but if you had seen him last night… something went wrong. Something changed. He needs this.”
“And what about what Carter needs?”
“I think Carter has made it pretty clear that’s not your concern, bud.”
I wince as I hear the words come out, knowing there was a nicer way to go about that. I’m too tired to walk it back, though. Too tired to think of something nicer to add.
It’s the truth, anyway. Maybe it’s about time Maison acknowledges that. Maybe if he can actually let Carter go, he’d finally be willing to get some help for himself.
His agonized, “Ace,” is the perfect foundation for another round of arguing.
I go on the offensive - and I fight dirty. “Nolan is outside. All alone. Didn’t even wear a jacket. Maybe you should bring him out a blanket?”
It works. He calls me out on it, but it works.
I go to refill my mug of coffee once he’s out the sliding glass door, only to find the empty pot he’d left there. Which, touché, or whatever.
I stare at it for a long time, my body swaying a little as I try to find enough energy to go through the three-step process of making another pot. Then I picture myself having to stand and wait for it to brew. Then pour it into my mug. Then walk all the way upstairs.
Upstairs, where I have two pills left and energy drinks in my mini-fridge.
Where I have music.
Where I might still have Matt.
I leave my mug behind and drag my body to my office, having to stabilize myself against the wall halfway up the stairs as dizziness and nausea threaten to overwhelm me. Somewhere in my mind, a very tired voice is telling me I can’t push this much further. Something has to give soon.
Finding my office empty feels like a pretty good sign that maybe now is the time to take that break. A short one. Not just to avoid nightmares, but because Travis is going to come out of Carter’s room sooner than later, and I don’t feel confident that Maison will keep a level-head when that occurs.
Does this mean the tray and note were for Matt after all? Matt needs the doctor?
I have to close my eyes and breathe, long and slow, to keep myself from passing out.
Then I sit down and check my computer to make sure I don’t have any notifications before setting my nightmare alarm and half-stumbling, half-falling onto the couch. It’s still warm from Matt’s body. So is the blanket.
The pillow smells like coconut oil.
From one breath to the next, I’m asleep.
It doesn’t last.
A second or a minute or maybe an hour later, there’s a knock on my door. I don’t check the monitors. I just shuffle over and open it to find Carter, with red-rimmed eyes and a shaky smile. Casey is standing behind him.
“We need your help,” Carter tells me.
I am so exhausted.
But I’ve got more work to do.