Chapter Thirty-Seven
Yun
Exhaustion hung on me, causing my feet to drag as I entered the trailer, glad to finally have finished.
After my great time, I’d found myself in a number of meetings with a few of the medical staff.
They wanted to understand how I’d done it, but I didn’t have an answer for that.
Honestly, dealing with them was far worse than the actual tests.
The questions had come, one after another, as though they would figure out how I’d done it using some questionnaire.
The answer they wanted wasn’t one I could give them anyway—and even if I could, I doubted they’d want to know it.
Or worse…if they knew, if they understood how it had happened, would they try to replicate it?
My mind seized that thought, the horror of it. Would they do that? Put others through what I went through just because it might strengthen their powers?
The fear filled me so completely that I didn’t pick my feet up enough as I went up the final step into the trailer, my toes catching on the ledge and pitching me forward. It happened so fast I couldn’t even brace for it, would have ended up flat on my face if not for a strong arm catching me.
It knocked the breath from me, since it wrapped around my stomach to stop my fall, but at least I didn’t smash my face against the floor.
“That excited to see us?” Carter’s playful voice was the only reason I didn’t react badly at his touch—well, that and the fact that he helped me regain my balance, then backed off. “You’re like a little kid, rushing so fast you trip over your feet.”
“I tripped over the step.” I gestured toward the stairs as though proving it, my cheeks warm. I might have argued more if it wasn’t for a delectable scent filling the trailer. It drew me to a stop.
It was thick, heady, rich. I could identify onions and the sear of chicken?
I turned my head toward the small kitchen space along one wall of the trailer.
It only had one induction burner, but steam escaped the top of a rice cooker plugged in beside it.
Kenyon stood before the large pan on the burner, a wooden spoon in his hand that he used to stir whatever was there.
My stomach grumbled loud enough that even humans would hear it, which meant there was no way a trailer full of espers wouldn’t.
Which made me recognize I hadn’t eaten since this morning, not since before the guiding test. The corruption had stolen my appetite, and the business of the day had made it so I hadn’t even realized I was hungry.
Kenyon turned, glancing over his shoulder toward me with a smile. “Good timing—we’re going to eat outside. Why don’t you go take a seat?”
The exhaustion that had pulled at me eased at the idea of a nice home-cooked meal.
Sure, this wasn’t our home—I didn’t really have one—but it was comfortable and as safe as I could hope for.
I turned and went back down the stairs, realizing for the first time that a picnic table sat out there, a string of lights hanging above it from the awning of the trailer. It looked downright cozy.
Ingram already sat on one side with Shear next him, neither speaking. I hadn’t noticed them because the table sat near the back of the trailer, and I’d come in from the other side. I took a seat across from them both.
They lifted their gaze but didn’t question me, with Shear staring silently and Ingram returning to his phone as though he had better things to deal with.
Fine by me. I didn’t know how to deal with him after what had happened, so I’d prefer he act as though I didn’t exist. It made my life easier.
A few moments later, Carter appeared with plates balanced on his arms, Kenyon just behind him with glasses of water. They put them out before each of us and took their spots—one on each side of me.
The plates were paper, piled high with rice and a yellow curry mixed with large chunks of chicken, carrots, onions and potatoes.
One deep inhalation drew that delicious scent into my lungs, allowing me to savor it before I picked up a fork and took the first bite. It had spice to it, leaving a lingering burn on my tongue, but the flavor was deep and wonderfully balanced. The rice eased the burn, mixing perfectly.
I lifted my gaze to find all four of them staring at me.
My cheeks burned worse than the curry when I realized I’d actually moaned as I’d eaten. It was good, but that was just absurd.
Carter chuckled, a low, amused sound before he spoke as though to break the strange atmosphere. “I heard you were quite the topic.”
I blew out a long breath. Wasn’t I always the topic of conversation? It wasn’t anything new, but rather an annoying fact that never quite went away. “Oh, really?” I asked as though I didn’t know. Better to act as though it didn’t bother me than let them see me sweat.
“Heard she scored highest of the S-Ranks,” Ingram added.
“Great job,” Kenyon said from around a mouthful of food.
I frowned, the words all strange. Praise wasn’t something I was accustomed to, not anymore.
That was the sort of thing loving parents did, so I hadn’t experienced it since before I’d lost my own.
It felt like when people reached out to stray dogs—no matter how wholesome the intention, the stray didn’t trust it enough to enjoy it.
I reacted similarly, with distrust, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for them to twist it somehow.
However, that didn’t happen. Instead, they went on with their conversation, letting the compliments rest on me, forcing me to sit with them.
“How mad were they?” Carter asked, looking over at Shear.
“Does it matter?”
That took me back to earlier, when I’d felt a rush of power that I’d immediately identified as Shear. It had been so strange that I had wondered at first if I’d felt it at all. He was usually so well controlled, to feel him in that way had surprised me.
Almost as much as it has surprised me that he’d reach for me. Of all things he could have done, why would he reach for me? And why was it that my response—as straightforward as it had been—had somehow allowed him to gain his own control again.
“Can you blame them?” Ingram asked, pointing his fork at Shear. “He made a big ol’ spectacle of himself. What was that all about? You’re usually way too smart to pull that sort of shit. Way to rile them up.”
“Oh, like you’re one to talk,” Carter said. “You cause problems all the time. Remember when you slept with the wife of that senator?”
“No, I don’t.”
“And his brother?”
Ingram smirked as though it had just come back to him. “Oh, yeah, that was fun.” Not a bit of shame resting in those words—if anything, he looked rather proud.
It didn’t shock me, either. It would have been more surprising if Ingram had pretended not to be a man whore, after all.
“It’s not like they don’t know what I can do,” Shear said.
“Yeah, but they like to forget. Reminding them puts us on their radar,” Carter said.
“Good. It would do them well to remember.”
The way Shear said that drew my focus, a solidness to those words which seemed so unlike him.
It sure sounded like it mattered to him even if I couldn’t understand why.