“It’s no problem.” #2
It was the end of my first week living in his house.
I had been sitting on my big bed full of fluffy, pretty blankets, looking around at the room full of things just for me.
There was a dresser full of nice, warm, soft clothes, a bookcase full of colorful picture books Kellan had promised he’d read to me until I could read them on my own, and a big wooden chest full of toys.
Keaton had just come to visit and brought a teddy bear that was bigger than I was.
It was laying on the bed next to me, ready to cuddle.
I had already checked and he fit under the bed with me, my perfect buddy whenever I needed to hide.
I sat there on that bed surrounded by all of those things and worked up the courage to go find Kellan.
I'd found him lounging on his fancy leather couch, legs spread, a glass of something that burned when I got a whiff of it resting on one thigh. It was the softest I had ever seen him. No fancy suit or expensive watch. No phone glued to his ear. No important looking papers in his hands. It was just him in sweatpants and a faded shirt with letters across it that I couldn’t read - an old college shirt, I later figured out.
He had tilted his head toward me, eyes a little slower to leave the TV like he didn’t want to have to look away.
Then he’d given me that weird smile of his, the one that didn’t feel fake or scary, but also didn’t feel real.
I didn't know then why it was like that. At the time, it was just different, something I couldn’t place, which ended up making it scary anyway.
He’d said, “Hey, kid. You want to come watch the game with me?”
And I’d said, “I want to thank you. Can I make you feel good? For all the nice things?”
And he’d breathed, just like this. The very deep breath, not calculated or calm, not hidden, but obvious and heavy, then his head tilting back so he could look up at the ceiling, and then the long exhale.
I've seen him do that so many times over the years, like a hard reset, always so much calmer after, but that was the only time he had to do it because of me.
Until now.
Back then, Kellan had said, “Ace, you do not have to make anyone feel good ever again. Alright? Not ever again. I promise. Now come hangout with me. Let me teach you about football and why we hate the guys in white.”
Back then, I’d only asked, “What’s football?”
Now, Kellan says, “This is important. To you. These men are important. Because you just lied to me about them. And you don’t lie to me.”
Now, I say, “I’m scared you’ll kill them.”
He’s quiet for a long moment before clearing his throat and stating, “Then I won’t kill them.”
The trees aren’t blurry when my eyes fall closed in relief.
“But they’re pushing it, Ace. If they weren’t yours, I would be… handling them. Carter and his two merry men, at the very least.”
Yeah, okay, so definitely don’t mention that Casey is going with him, or that Jake is part of the planning committee.
“But… you won’t do that?”
“Not yet. Not for this.” He lets that sit for a second before asking, “Is that the favor? Me knowing they broke OPSEC, but not handling them?”
“They - uh. Well, they want him-” and Casey, but don’t push it, “-to be able to come and go. Like, to visit. Or for group therapy with Adam.”
He mumbles something I can’t hear before doing another one of those breaths.
I kind of want to shrivel up in shame for making him do it twice in one phone call after so long without causing one.
Those are supposed to be job-related or Keaton-related breaths.
I’m not supposed to be the one who stresses him out.
That’s not my place in this family. I’m supposed to be the rock for them.
The calm one. I keep Kellan relaxed and reassured. I keep Keaton’s head above water.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“No. Don’t - you’re okay. This isn’t your fault.”
It is. I don’t know how I could have stopped all of this mess, but there must have been something. I mistepped somewhere along the way. I let Carter get taken. I let Travis get attached. I let Maison spiral. I let Jake follow the same path, dragging Casey along with him.
“Adam wants him to be able to come back?” he asks after a moment, which feels… random, but I’m willing to latch onto it.
“Um - I mean, I don’t - I didn’t ask him? But you know Adam. He would want that.”
He huffs, but it doesn’t sound angry. “Yeah. Yeah, I know Adam.”
“I think it’s been killing him a little, you know? How fast so many of the survivors left when he didn’t think any of them were ready.”
“Hmm.”
I have no idea what this hmm means.
I have no idea about anything anymore, it’s starting to feel like.
I am not keeping it together.
I am so, so fucking tired.
“Alright, here’s what’s going to happen.
They already know the general location of the safehouse.
Cat’s out of the bag. But that information needs to be shared with everyone there, alongside the information that they are now compromised.
I’m talking survivors, operators, and support staff.
Anyone who doesn’t feel safe and wants to leave should be given the chance to be transferred to another house, or to just leave completely if they’d rather.
If anyone asks why we’re allowing this exception, it’s because of Maison.
The organization owes him for his unwavering loyalty and years of skilled work and we’re doing this for him.
If any of the support bitches about that, let me know.
We’ll reassign them and I’ll keep a close eye for a while to make sure they don’t spin up trouble. ”
“W-wait. I - really?”
“No, I’m joking. You know me. I love a good joke,” he says, as deadpan as I’ve probably ever heard him.
I laugh, the sound coming out a little wet, a little hysterical. “It’s always a good time to learn new skills.”
“I’m all good. I’ve got enough on my plate.
” He sighs. “He might as well be able to come back when he wants. Sure. The house is already compromised. I want extra protection, though. If any of the support agents chooses to leave, we’ll need to replace them.
I also want at least two added on after that.
Maybe more. I’ll leave that up to Keaton since he’s better at those kind of logistics.
I want eyes on Carter, too. Put cameras on wherever he’s staying.
Don’t let him get a job somewhere you can’t hack into or set up your own surveillance.
He needs to do check-ins. You’re giving him a new phone, right?
Put a tracker in it. Any other technology you send with, too.
Is he active? Does he exercise? Try to talk him into a fucking smart watch or something else that monitors his vitals.
If he gets snagged, I want to know within seven minutes.
Five, preferably. I’m not letting someone get leverage on this organization, understood?
I’ll kill both brothers and Travis too before I let this get any messier, Ace.
You can tell them that. This is as far as the line is going to stretch. Is that understood?”
“Yes. Absolutely, yes. I - I understand. Yes. Fuck. Thank you, Kellan. God.” I laugh breathlessly, tears rolling down my cheeks.
I’m so relieved.
I’m so exhausted.
“On one condition.” Well… shit. “You’re going to go ahead of them to the town. Set up the place they’re going to live in beforehand.”
“Oh, yeah, of course-”
“And Keaton is going to meet you there.”
Oh.
“He’s worried about you,” he says, bringing things full circle. “He wants to talk. You’re going to let him.”
That’s not… so bad.
Right?
“And if he decides you need it, you’re going to stop avoiding Adam and do a session with him. No excuses.”
No, okay, that’s bad.
That’s… really bad.
“Traitor. We hate those sessions, remember?” I try to joke, but it lands all watery and forced.
He hmms. This one, at least, I know very well.
This one means, I hear you. It means, good point. It means, I understand, that’s fair, you’re right.
It means, but it’s happening anyway.
“Do we have a deal?” he asks, probably knowing he doesn’t have to elaborate on his hmm.
I look out at the trees, a little less blurry now. “We’ve got a deal.”
“Good. Keep me updated. Make damn sure they all realize they’re on the final straw with the - god, what do they call me in that group?”
“The Head.”
“Yeah. Jesus. Makes me feel like one of the supervillians in those terrible movies Keaton is always insisting I watch.”
“They aren’t terrible.”
“Agree to disagree.”
I roll my eyes, but it’s hard to be annoyed when my relief that this conversation went well is hitting me like the best drug.
“I’ll tell them. I’ll make sure they understand. Thank you, Kellan. Really. Thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah, good.” He makes a noise, then sighs. “Take care of yourself, alright.”
“Yeah.” I smile, just a little. “You too.”
I set the nightmare alarm on my phone.
Then I lay my head down on the wheel and let myself fucking sleep.