28. Misely
twenty-eight
Misely
T alon came out of the store with a single bag, climbing into the van with a grimace.
“Everything okay?” I asked, taking the bag as he passed it to me. He started the van and nodded, pulling out of his parking space and back out onto the road.
Aimlessly, one of my hands dove into the bag in search of snacks while the other turned the radio down. Pulling something out at random, I let out a small gasp at the box in my palm.
“You…you replaced my serum?” I looked at him dumbfounded, mesmerized by the color that crawled up his cheeks. At his micro-shrug, my heart began a dance in my chest I wasn’t familiar with. I said his name, trying to understand. “Why?”
“You seemed pretty upset. I don’t want you to be…well, upset.”
Words escaped me. I was baffled. Befuddled. Flabbergasted, if you will. Such a small thing, this thing he did for me. Pulling off the road to some pharmacy in who-knows-where, going off course, uprooting his plans to purchase me a new bottle of one of my go-to serums…
Maybe it wasn’t such a small thing. Not for Talon, who was very much a by-the-script kind of guy. Talon, who had been so frustrated every time our trip went off the rails or any time his routine was messed with. No, I’d guess this wasn’t a small thing for him, whether he recognized it or not. And maybe it wasn’t such a small thing for me either, by the way my heart slammed against my rib cage.
The thoughts in my head were a whirlwind of confusion, and I didn’t have the bandwidth to sort them out right at that moment. So, I murmured a soft thank you and reveled at his further blushing cheeks instead.
Just under two hours later, Talon pulled into the lot of a motel. The sun had yet to set, and with how close we were to our final destination I was surprised that Talon hadn’t just kept driving until we made it, but I didn’t ask.
I had other questions on the tip of my tongue that I had been holding back all day. We hadn’t spoken about Kyle again since that morning, or what Talon was planning on doing. But there was a new weight on my chest since our conversation, urging me to push him to switch teams. I could do it. I knew I could.
Maybe I was romanticizing his feelings toward me, that was fine. That I could deal with. Shit, I’d survived it with James and literally everyone else in my life, I could survive it again. But I couldn’t deal with anyone else being hurt because of Kyle MacArthur. After spending the last week with Talon, I was convinced that he was more like Milo than he thought, in the ways that mattered.
Maybe he hid behind some bullshit mask of cruelty, but that wasn’t the truth. He’d revealed to me that he still bore the pain of a fifteen-year-old boy who’d lost his parents and suffered at the hands of an abuser. He bore the pain of a father who’d been forced to make an impossible decision, and now faced having to protect that child at all costs. He’d tried to protect his siblings before, and I was confident that I could convince him to do it again. If this was going to be our last night alone together, I had to make it count.
He carried the lion’s share of our bags and urged me to go inside. Making my way over to the inner most bed, I swung my computer bag off my shoulder and stretched.
“I need to check my e-mail. I didn’t have any service earlier and I missed my call with Benji.” Anxiety bled into my voice as I said this. Talon must’ve heard it because he gave me an empathetic look before nodding and turning his attention back to his own belongings.
I set my laptop up at the dingy coffee bar and stood in front of it, needing to be on my feet for a few minutes. It had been too long since I’d gone for a run and my muscles were aching from their sheer lack of use.
Barbara had sent me numerous Zoom invites and three separate e-mails. The first was in regard to our originally scheduled call—the one I had missed. The second was a follow up to my absence. And the third was her telling me she hopes everything is all right and that they will try to reach me again tomorrow. She finally mentioned Benji in the last one, in an attempt to prepare me for the fact that the boy was very displeased with me.
My heart sunk. This had been what I was trying to avoid. In my experience, cases like Benji’s were like walking on eggshells. You had to take great care and be mindful. The experiences he’d already had in life were going to be with him forever, and I really just wanted to ensure that when he reflected on his experiences under my care, he felt as though it made a positive difference. He’d been dealt enough hardship.
“Everything okay?” Talon asked, eyeing me over his book. Looks like he was trying to get caught up on the things he missed today too.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Benji’s upset I missed our call. I need to call tomorrow morning, make sure he’s okay.”
Talon ruminated for a moment, then said, “You’re good at your job.”
A snort escaped me. “Oh yeah? How do you know?”
Resting the book on his lap, regret lined his features. “I know I said a lot of shit before…about what you do. That’s just my own fucked up life rearing its ugly head. Reality is, maybe if there had been more people like you around when we needed it, things might have been different for Bri, Lo, and me. The kids you work with are lucky to have you.”
Stinging burned in my eyes, but I blinked it back. The reverence in his tone struck me and I knew he was being sincere.
“I wish that it hadn’t gotten to the point of needing to have me.” It was barely a whisper, but Talon heard me.
“We don’t live in a perfect world, baby. There are always going to be kids who need someone to step up. There wasn’t anyone like that for me. I’m grateful I get to see first-hand that it’s not like that for everyone.”
My head fell into my hands, supported by my elbows on the counter. I nodded but was exhausted. I wish I could say that it was just the burden of the last week, or even a lack of sleep. But I couldn’t. This weariness had been building for a long time.
“Why do you do it?”
His question made me blink, my gaze still stuck on the linoleum counter in front of me.
“Do what?”
He cleared his throat, rephrasing the question. “What made you decide to become a social worker?”
Such a heavy question. With an answer I’d not shared with anyone since I was fifteen.
I took a deep breath and when I released it it was with a choked laugh. “You’ve done your research on me.”
“And?”
It was hard to believe I was actually going to tell him. To spill my guts like he were Birdie or some close friend. But the weight was heavy, almost too heavy to bear, and the chance to lessen some of it was right in front of me.
“Tell me,” he said, as if he could hear my thoughts. I took a stabilizing breath.
“Okay, well…I grew up well enough off and when it came to material things, my parents never denied us anything. Most of the people we knew thought we were just a bunch of spoiled brats, and in a lot of ways we were.
“Real friendships were hard to come by. Most of the kids thought being friends with a Fisher meant that they could be included in extravagant shopping trips and spending sprees—they didn’t actually give a shit about us.
“I had two friends though, who I loved dearly, and they loved me. James, who as you already know…well we’ve grown apart. And then Cara.”