Chapter Fourteen
Lia
Carter has a way of being present without feeling intrusive.
He leads me toward the meditation room where he trains with Leo. A wave of eucalyptus scent hits me. The lights are dim, and several mats are arranged neatly on the floor.
Carter motions to a yoga mat. “Have a seat.”
I lower myself onto it, sitting cross-legged.
“Kylo and I were talking,” Carter begins. “We think meditation might help you. Nothing on the level of what Leo and I do, just enough to ground you when you feel overwhelmed.”
“Okay,” I say, waiting.
He settles across from me, folding his legs. “It’s not only your mind fighting you. When your body doesn’t feel safe, your powers stay in survival mode. Control isn’t force. It’s stillness—being so grounded in yourself that nothing can shake you.”
I mull over his words. It’s the same thing Dr. Levitt used to talk about—how my body has forgotten the language of safety.
My nerves are still wired for the before. Like violin strings pulled tight, ready to snap, waiting for a signal that danger is back. I think of the stacks of journals in my room, filled with the mayhem I tried to spill onto paper because I couldn’t keep it inside.
I never made it as far as meditation.
I learned how to live with the noise.
“I want to give this a shot.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. Let’s begin.”
He sits tall, wrists on his knees, fingers forming the classic meditation pose—thumb to forefinger.
“I’ll guide you through some breathing exercises.
Remember: mindfulness isn’t about clearing your mind completely.
It’s about being with your thoughts. This is about noticing the moment you’re in, not trying to escape it. ”
Breathing in, I follow his voice as it guides me inward.
“Start by taking a deep breath,” Carter says softly. “In through your nose, slow and steady. Hold it for a second. Now out through your mouth.”
A slow, uncertain inhale fills my lungs as I try to match his calm.
“Again,” he guides. “Let your breath be the only thing you focus on right now. Notice where your body touches the mat. Your legs. Your spine. Let yourself be supported. You’re safe here.”
Something in me flinches at the word safe, but I breathe through it.
“If a thought comes in, notice it. Then let it drift. You don’t have to chase it if you don’t want to.”
My thoughts swirl like smoke.
Leo, Kylo, my mom. But Carter’s voice keeps pulling me back.
“Now bring your focus to your chest. Feel it rise and fall. Let your breath soften you. This is your center. When you learn to return here, everything else becomes quieter.”
My shoulders, which had been up by my ears, relax.
“That’s it.” The word soothes like warm water. “Picture a light in the center of your chest. That light is you. No matter what happens around you, it doesn’t go out. It might flicker, but it’s always there.”
I picture a candle flame, no bigger than a tear. It dances unsteadily, shadows closing in, but it clings to life.
“You can return to this place any time. When the panic comes. When the memories hit. When your powers stir and you feel out of control, this is your foundation.”
My breathing slows.
“I want you to stay with this for a few minutes. When you’re ready, open your eyes.”
My mind drifts to the night I lost my mother—the same memory that replays when I’m sleeping. Or when I let myself think. Even for a minute.
I want to shove the memory down, like I always do. But instead, I welcome it, like Carter suggested. I sit with the thought. I hear her voice, the soft lilt she used to coax Leo and me to sleep.
The stillness moves through me like a phantom’s kiss, loosening a sadness that’s lived in my chest like a crypt. My body doesn’t know what to do with the quiet.
My legs twitch.
My fingers itch to move, to do anything but sit here.
Tears burn hot behind my lids.
“Let it out,” Carter encourages. “This is a good start.”
My lungs expand deeper than they have in years, finding space I didn’t know I had. I inhale slowly.
My breath doesn’t catch on the way down.
“That was excellent,” he says. “Some days the noise will win, but you’re teaching your body that it’s safe to let go. We’re a team now. If you need a reset, come find me. I should’ve brought you here sooner.”
“Thank you. I needed that.”
“Don’t thank me. Just show up for dinner tonight. No more missed meals. You can’t fight a war on an empty tank.” He stands, offering a hand. “Rest and recovery are just as vital as the mats. You want more strength? Start by taking care of what’s left of you.”
I knock on Leo’s door. After a few beats, he opens it, his hair damp and plastered to his forehead. A white towel is slung around his neck, and his navy shirt clings to his skin.
“This is a surprise.” He steps aside. “I don’t think you’ve been to my room yet.”
I look around at the unfamiliar space. The way he’s arranged his shoes, the book on his nightstand I didn’t know he was reading.
A knot of guilt tightens in my stomach. I should have been here weeks ago.
“How did your mission go?” I ask, sinking onto the edge of his bed.
He’s been in the field more than he’s been here.
He shrugs, tossing the towel onto a chair. “Not much to report. No sign of Aether Hunters, which I guess is a win. Just a long, boring day of staring at trees.”
“How’s Zayne been?”
I don’t mention the way Zayne and Marco look at us—like we’re houseguests who have overstayed our welcome—but I see the answer in the way Leo avoids my eyes.
“He was fine.” Leo turns back to me, leaning against his desk. “How’s training?”
“Kylo was… Kylo,” I reply, mirroring his guarded tone. I pick at a loose thread on his bedspread. “Carter taught me how to meditate.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You? Meditating?”
“Shocking, right? It helped more than I expected.”
“I’m glad. We don’t exactly have a Dr. Levitt here to talk us through our baggage.”
“I never thought I’d miss those sessions.”
He gives my shoulder a firm squeeze. “You still have me. I know we’ve been busy, but I’m always here for you.”
“You can count on me, too.”
I look for a sign he’ll let me in, but Leo is a locked door, the key long lost.
He offers a tight nod. “So, what did you come here for?”
“I want to thank Carter by making everyone dinner. I was thinking of recreating Mom’s chicken parmesan. Want to help?”
“Hell yeah, I’ll help. After everything they’ve done for us, it’s a great way to return the favor.”
“Perfect! I’m going to sneak off to the store. Can you keep them occupied? I don’t want anyone wandering into the kitchen and spoiling the surprise.”
He frowns. “You shouldn’t go by yourself.”
“I’ll be quick. It’s just the store.”
“It isn’t safe.”
“Leo, it’s down the street. I’ll be careful.”
He exhales sharply, and his hand drops to his pocket. “Fine. Text me the second you—” He stops, his fingers twitching against his empty thigh. “Shit. I keep forgetting we don’t have our phones.”
I pause at the door, stepping back to squeeze his shoulder. My hand lingers, soaking in his worry. “Give me thirty minutes, tops.”
I head straight to the kitchen, where Carter keeps the keys on a small rack by the wall. My fingers skim the metal, tracing the tiny etched logos until I pull the plainest one free.
The parking garage smells of oil and stale concrete. At the corner, I pause, scanning the rows of parked cars for any sign of movement.
Silence.
Sneakers scuff against the floor as I step into the open. I aim the fob into the darkness and thumb the button.
Chirp-chirp.
A silver Tacoma blinks its amber eyes at me from the back row.
Bingo.
I reach for the door handle, but before I can close my grip, another hand slams over mine. I’m shoved back, my spine colliding with the driver’s door.
Kylo’s face is inches from mine—eyes sharp, mouth set in a hard line, like he’s staring down an intruder. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going to the grocery store.”
“Why are you sneaking around?”
“I’m not.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I want to surprise everyone with dinner,” I bite out. “Do I have to file a report before I buy groceries?”
“Zayne’s not going to appreciate you stealing his truck.”
The key fob rests in my hand. I was hoping it belonged to Carter.
“I didn’t know whose it was. I picked a random key and hoped for the best.”
He holds out his hand. “Key.”
I glare at him and slap it into his palm. “Controlling much?” I mumble under my breath.
He digs into his pocket and pulls out a different key. “Come with me.”
He walks past the rows of dented sedans and stops in front of a blacked-out Lamborghini. It looks like a shard of polished obsidian.
My jaw drops. I look from the sleek, aggressive lines of the car to the man standing beside it. “This is yours?”
“Yes,” he mutters. “Get in.”
“Why?”
“I’m taking you to the store.”
“Because you don’t trust me?”
He rounds the hood and closes the space between us in a single, determined stride. I’m pressed against the matte-black door. His mint-scented breath lingers between us. “It’s not safe for you to go alone. Get in the car before I change my mind.”
My stomach somersaults. He pulls away just as fast, striding to the driver’s side.
I scramble into the passenger seat, my movements clumsy and rushed.
I fix my gaze out the window, staring at a crack in the garage wall.
The cabin is small, intimate, and thick with the scent of leather and spearmint.
How much longer can I pretend he doesn’t affect me?
The engine roars to life, low and powerful, the vibrations pulsing through my chest as he peels out of the parking lot. I turn on the stereo, desperate for some sound.
Heavy guitar riffs and the singer’s melodic voice soothe my soul, the kind of sound that fills my lungs and rattles my bones.
He doesn’t seem bothered by the station. His left hand rests on the wheel, the leather sleeve hanging loose at his wrist, while his right hand stays on the shifter.
“So…” I say, tracing the logo on the dashboard. “How did you land a beauty like this?”
“Our friend, Elijah, has more money than he knows what to do with.”
A few songs later, the store comes into view. Kylo takes a cart, and I follow him inside, scanning the aisles. I move automatically—adding garnishes, vegetables, pasta, bread, a few jars of spices, chicken, and a block of mozzarella.
A woman’s wallet slips from her purse. I’m moving, gathering the scattered receipts and cards. When I pass them back, my thumb brushes against the smooth plastic of her card.
My fingers touch my back pocket, searching for a shape that isn’t there.
I look down at the mozzarella in my grip. The cool, wax-wrapped weight of it feels heavier than it should. I set it back on the shelf, aligning it perfectly with the others.
“Why’d you put it back?” Kylo asks, his eyes darting between my empty hands and the cheese.
“I can’t pay for this. I don’t have money. I don’t have…”
The sentence dies there. I don’t have a purse. I don’t have a house key. I don’t even have a plastic card with my name on it. I’m a ghost standing in a grocery aisle, trying to play house in a life that isn’t mine anymore.
He grabs the mozzarella and drops it into the cart. “I’ve got my card. Get what you need.”
“That doesn’t count.” I scramble for the cart handle. “I should be the one paying for this. I don’t know your budget. What if Carter—”
“Lia.” His voice is calm, but laced with impatience. He looks down at the shelf of groceries as if the prices are written in a language he doesn’t bother to read. “Money isn’t an issue. Buy what you want.”
The last thing on my list is wine. It isn’t a pasta night without a deep red, but it’s a luxury I can’t justify on someone else’s dime.
I walk toward the next aisle, but Kylo’s hand drops onto the cart, his grip firm as he yanks it in the opposite direction.
He navigates the liquor section, his eyes scanning the glass until he finds a specific vintage.
He reaches for two bottles of red, dark glass with labels that look like they belong in a museum. The script is elegant and gold-foiled.
He doesn’t look at the price tag as he sets them into the cart next to the mozzarella. The glass clinks with a sound that screams expensive. “Anything else?”
“That’s all I need.”
How often does he read my mind?
“Enough. Even when you’re silent, your mind isn’t.”
That’s one way to put it.
We head toward the register and start placing items on the belt. The cashier scans them while Kylo casually pulls out a sleek black metal card and taps it. Once the bags are packed and loaded into his car, we drive without speaking.
“Do you like pasta?” I blurt.
Peak conversation skills, Lia.
A laugh escapes him. “My mother used to spend all day over the stove. She learned dozens of recipes from her Italian mother. The whole house would smell like toasted garlic and basil.”
We pull into the parking garage. Kylo hops out first.
“Do you mind checking if the coast is clear?” I ask.
I grab the bags and wait by the hood as he disappears. When he comes back, he takes the bags from me. “We’re good.”
We walk inside and he sets them on the counter.
“Thank you.” I turn to him. “For buying all of this.”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“I need one more favor.” I drag my teeth over my lower lip. “Can you send Leo in and distract the guys while we cook?”
“All three of them?”
Dinner would be simpler without Zayne or Marco.
But this is for Carter.
“Yes,” I say, before I can rethink it. “We’re having a team dinner.”
Kylo’s gaze lingers on me. Whatever he sees there makes him pause. He gives a single nod and turns away.
I start unpacking, placing each ingredient with care.
I hope they like it.