Chapter 11
Newton
She doesn”t make a sound while we watch television. She doesn”t chuckle or groan when a joke is delivered in poor taste which this show is known for.
The morning is spent with the television on, and I do my best to pay attention. Thankfully, it”s a guilty pleasure of mine. I”ve seen it so many times I know exactly when to laugh even though the majority of my attention is on her.
I”m not even looking in her direction, but my body is well aware that I”m not alone in the room.
Part of it feels like a thrill but there”s also a part of me that is in survival mode at having my back, or the top of my head as it were, to someone I don”t know that I can trust.
She doesn”t have access to weapons. I know Em wouldn”t have packed any if she”d found them hidden in her room. I guess it”s possible she could”ve taken my razor apart, but I don”t think she”d attack me unless she was provoked or thought I was going after her.
Staying in this room with me rather than going with Em when a bedroom at her house was offered speaks loudly of the fact that there”s a part of her that feels as if she”s safe here with me.
I shift my weight on the bed, moving to lift my arm to fold it behind my head. It activates my watch, telling me that we”ve been watching television for hours and it”s well past lunchtime.
I sit up, grabbing the remote before climbing off the bed.
She startles, telling me that she”d managed to fall asleep. I manage to hide my smile at knowing that she”s at least comfortable enough to sleep with the door open, as I lean over and offer her the remote.
”I”m going to go find something for lunch. Any preferences?”
She sits up, her eyes wide and blinking up at me, but I don”t get the vibe that she”s helpless. I imagine she”d try and claw my eyes out if I reached in to touch her, like a feral cat backed into a corner.
”I can heat up some mac and cheese. They have these little cups that just take water. There”s a turkey club I can do that ends up decent enough for human consumption.”
Her eyes shift, a little more life coming into them at the mention of the sandwich, and I know I have a winner.
”There are a ton of different kinds of chips. There”s that cheesy kind you ate last night.”
Another flash of pleading in her eyes.
”And the pickle—”Her nose scrunches. ”Hold the pickle. Got it. Should take me about twenty minutes.”
I find it more difficult than I should to pull my eyes from her.
She”s young, nearly twenty-one according to her bio. I went back through the dossier we were provided a year ago when she came to Farmington, the entire time feeling like an asshole for not recognizing Xan Adair that day he showed up at the shelter. I was stuck in my own head and pissed that I was sloppy at our last job. I was stuck watching the shelter after spraining my wrist during a fall caused by stepping into a fucking bear trap of all things instead of doing things that at the time, I would”ve considered important. Babysitting Oracle”s wife while she was at the shelter seemed like a waste of my time and training, but I find that I was wrong about that as well because Brielle was inside then.
”Want any dessert?” I ask, still fighting some strange pull to her rather than leaving the room and making the sandwich I promised.
Instead of replying, she pulls out a package of candy I brought her last night after discovering she only wanted to eat food that was still sealed.
”Soda? Water? Juice?”
”Water please,” she says, shocking me.
I smile at her, and she looks away as if disappointed in herself that I was able to get her to speak to me.
I fight the urge to apologize, to tell her that I”m not trying to trick her, but I know the vows won”t go very far. I know from experience that the only thing that will prove that I won”t hurt her will be time, and she may still never fully trust me or anyone else for that matter.
I give her a weak smile, the only apology I can offer, before leaving the room.
I wait in the hallway for a minute until I hear the lock flip into place on the door.
With it being closer to two in the afternoon, the kitchen isn”t as busy as it probably was a couple of hours ago. I”m stressing over getting the right amount of turkey on Brielle”s sandwich when I notice Kincaid step up beside me.
”Is she eating?”
”Only the packaged stuff so far, but I”m making an effort at every meal.”
”She”ll get there,” he says with enough assurance in his tone that I can”t help but believe he”s right.
I know I won”t stop trying, no matter how long it takes.
”How”s your wrist?” he asks, noticing that I haven”t put my sling on yet today.
It was in a soft cast for a while just to keep it immobile, but after promising that I”d follow the doctor”s orders to the letter, I was allowed just the sling.
”We”ve just been watching TV,” I say like a child explaining why he was caught doing something he shouldn”t have been doing.
”I”m not getting on you. How”s the pain level?” Kincaid asks with laughter in his voice.
”It”s a little better. I don”t need painkillers any longer.” I feel his eyes on the side of my face as if he”s waiting for the second part of my answer. ”It”s a little tender first thing in the morning, but it doesn”t take long for it to ease up. Usually by nine or so, it”s fine.”
”Ready to go back out in the field?”
It feels like a test, but even if it didn”t, I know the answer.
”No, sir. Not quite yet.”
He nods before clapping me on the back and walking away.
If I didn”t have a terrified woman hiding out in my closet, my answer might”ve been different, even though I know the answer I gave was the one my boss was looking for. He needs us to be a hundred percent when we”re on a mission, for our own well-being and the safety of the others on our teams.
I realize as I get to the bedroom door with a plate in each hand that I could”ve never been a waiter. I nearly lose both meals on the floor, trying to get the door open, grateful that it”s no longer locked.
”We were seconds away from eating turkey off the floor,” I tell her as I step inside, using the side of my foot to close the door once I enter.
I hand over a plate but realize when she scrunches her nose that I”m offering the one with the pickle by mistake.
”Shit, sorry. Crap, I didn”t mean to cuss.”
Her eyes narrow at me, and I don”t like the speculation.
”Cerberus is urged not to cuss in front of women and children,” I explain. ”Apologies if I offended you.”
I grin when she rolls her eyes.
When she takes the correct plate from my hand, I pull her bottle of water from the pocket of my sweats.
I turn back to my bed, not wanting to put her on the spot if she decides she can”t trust the sandwich the way she couldn”t trust breakfast this morning and the food I offered last night.
I sit on the bed, making sure to shift enough to the left so I don”t block her line of sight to the television. She has something else on, and I smile as I lift my sandwich to my mouth. I don”t know if it”s a test, if she”s trying to determine if I”m going to be upset that she’s turned on some cartoon with different animals exploring things in the ocean.
Cartoons are my jam too. They”re always on in the living room for the kids when folks are getting ready for a gathering or a party. Loads of people come over just to hang out and socialize, and we aren”t paying any attention to what”s on the television.
I haven”t seen this show before but it looks like one that Hound”s gaggle of kids would enjoy. I make a mental note to ask him about it as I lower my sandwich to my plate and snap off a bite of my pickle.
I don”t look over my shoulder, but I can tell from the sounds that she”s making that she”s eating. She could”ve unwrapped things while I was gone, but I want to believe she”s finally accepted the food I brought as safe, and she”s eating the sandwich. The crinkle of the bag of cheesy chips is expected as she ate those last night.
We sit for the next hour, eating and watching cartoons, but she never laughs. After the third episode draws to an end, I climb off the bed, holding back my smile, to see that all but the top crust of bread from her sandwich is gone.