Chapter Fourteen
Yun
I ended up driving back to the house with just Shear as the others had already left when we’d gotten back to the waiting room. Shear had claimed they’d had an errand to run and would meet us back at the house.
The nice thing about Shear was that he didn’t talk much. He didn’t force conversation, which let me sit there in silence on the ride. We had taken a rideshare since it seemed whatever errand the others had gone on had required use of the car, leaving us stranded there.
It was afternoon by the time we got back, and given my lack of good sleep, I figured something to eat would help wake me up at least.
I stood at the stove, water in the pot boiling, steam escaping the top and sucked into the fan hanging above.
Guilt pricked at me as I recalled the way Shear had sat in the chair, the move so sudden it had taken me by surprise.
It was like his energy had run out, more of a collapse than anything I’d seen from him.
Worse was paleness of his skin, the way the color had drained from his face.
I didn’t know what he’d seen, but the loud gulp he’d made, the way he’d reacted, all suggested it hadn’t been good.
I couldn’t stop myself from adding two servings of pasta to the boiling water, ignoring my actions as I did it.
It was just because he’d looked tired—that was it.
Nothing more than that, nothing deeper. In another pot, I heated up marinara sauce, then mixed the sauce with the drained noodles and served it into two bowls.
I hadn’t eaten, and I hadn’t seen him eat. He had to be hungry as well.
I carried the bowls up, set his outside his door, knocked, then hurried away before he answered.
Was it childish?
Sure was.
Did I care?
Not even a little.
I wanted him to eat, but that didn’t mean I wanted to actually face him.
Seeing him pry into a stranger’s head so easily had thrown me off—though I hadn’t been all that steady beforehand.
The reality was that I knew exactly what a mentalist could do, the damage they left behind. How could he do that and not care, not seem to even notice what those actions could mean?
It meant I didn’t want to look at him, to think about what had happened or, worse, what he could do if he wanted. If he were that powerful, if he could so easily pluck information from that man’s mind, what could he do if he truly wanted to hurt me?
The door opening then closing again from down the hallway made its way through the walls, letting me know he’d taken the food once I was safely in my own room.
The sight of the phone, still on the desk, caught my attention. I sat there, not wanting to make a mess by trying to eat pasta on the bed.
How long had it been since I had a good phone? A place to call my own?
A part of me struggled to believe this was possible. I kept waiting for life to snatch it all away from me, as it always did.
The best example of that feeling was my still-packed bag. I washed my clothes then returned them to that bag, never willing to leave things out of it because I didn’t want to have to repack it.
That fear had been with me for years, of course, but had it ever bothered me as much as it did now? The idea of getting kicked out of here pricked at me more than it had at other places, with other squads.
Why? What did it matter? Maybe because this was the first time my boundaries hadn’t gotten pushed? It was the first time I could breathe because I wasn’t constantly defending myself.
I picked up my phone and dialed a number known by heart, one I never actually saved, that I never needed to save.
It rang only once before a man’s smooth voice answered, the closest thing I had to a friend. “Hey there, little kitten.”
I rolled my eyes at the nickname Kaidan had given me years ago. “I told you to stop calling me that.”
“Why? It fits.” He let out a soft laugh. “I heard you moved again. Another problem?”
I didn’t flinch at that, as I might have from anyone else. When he said it, it was with a lot of history, with knowing more about me than about anyone else. He understood me in a way no one else did, which meant it hurt less when he brought up things about me I didn’t love.
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
I stirred the pasta in the bowl, the food not appearing as appetizing as it had when I’d cooked it. “Same thing as always.”
Four words that meant so much more. It was funny how that worked, how easy it was to say something in just a few words, as though it were simple when it was actually far from it.
His sigh was loud, speaking volumes.
Still, I went on since I didn’t want to dwell on that. “How are you doing? Where are you now?”
“Korea.”
“Settled down yet?”
“Me? Never. I’m not that type.”
The way he said it made me laugh, the opposite of me.
I wanted to settle down, but fear held me back, an inability to find people trustworthy enough to make it happen.
For him, the idea of getting tied down, of being bound to anyone, terrified him.
So instead, he enjoyed his life as a party boy, as the apple of the world’s eye, ready to play that part.
It took me back to when I’d met him, back when I’d first gotten to the Guild and needed a mentor.
I knew him better than most people, just like he knew me. Two fucked-up peas in a fucked-up pod. They hadn’t paired us because of that, of course, but it didn’t change the truth of it. It felt like a strange twist of fate that we’d worked together.
“How are you doing now?” Kaidan asked. “I’ve heard some rumors.”
“Yeah, I’m with Reject Squad,” I admitted.
Silence met me, something thick and uncomfortable. It said more than words could have.
“You watch yourself with them.”
“I always do, but why?”
“You really don’t know?”
“I know they’re low-ranked.”
“They weren’t always low-ranked. In fact, they used to be the top squad in the country.”
That took me by surprise. I thought about all I knew about them, the way they acted, the childish behavior I’d seen, and I struggled to comprehend that. It made no sense. These men were considered the best in the country?
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not, little summer child. I was there—I remember. They rose fast, getting to the top of the charts, the toast of the town, all that. Then they ended up having…an issue.” The way he said that at the end, the hesitation said it wasn’t a good thing.
“What sort of issue? Were they filmed kicking puppies or something?” I let out a laugh to lighten to conversation.
“No—they failed a mission where they were supposed to save people in a dungeon. They ran the other way, and the people died.”