“I mean it,” he said. “I’m not. I’m just…” He shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t guess–” Honesty was always painful when it came to self-reflection, but he found it was easier to tell her than it had been to tell anyone so far. Ava might give you a verbal ass-kicking if you needed it, but she didn’t hold judgement the way some people did. “I don’t guess I feel like I fit. Sometimes.”
“Here? With the club?”
He nodded.
She regarded him another beat, and then glanced out across the yard. It was too early in the season for cicadas or fireflies, but despite the cool currents, the air had begun to smell of warmth, and grass, and growing things. “You’re probably not the only one who feels that way,” she said.
He hummed in faint disagreement.
“No. Think about people like Roman. Harry. Littlejohn. Boomer and Deacon. Hell, Reese – is he drunk by the way?”
“Totally smashed.”
“I thought so. But take him for example: do you think he’sbest buddieswith anyone here?”
He tipped his head. “You should see him with Tenny.”
“What’s he like with Tenny?”
“I’m gonna let Mercy fill you in on that one.”
Her lips quirked with interest. “Hm. Well. You take my meaning.”
“I do.” He didn’t really think shegot it, though.
She stilled a moment, rocker tipped back. “You aren’t thinking ofleaving, are you?” She sounded horrified by the idea.
“No.” When that didn’t seem to ease her mind, he repeated, “No. Where would I go?”
She resumed rocking, but still looked troubled. “I didn’t realize it had gotten this bad.”
He glanced away from her pitying gaze, shrugging, uncomfortable beneath it. “It’s not. I’ve just got to figure some stuff out.”
Another silence descended, bristling with all the things neither of them were saying. He wished he could open up his head and let her take a peek; if she could see what he was thinking for himself, she’d have a better chance of putting it into words. Could even help him make sense of it, this tangle of feelings and absent purpose that left a foursome feeling mundane, and coaching a high school kid feel like flying.
“We care about you,” she said, low, serious. “You know that, right? All of us: Mercy, and me, and Mom, and Dad, and Aidan, Tango – everybody.”
“Yeah, I know.” He did know, and the knowledge did warm him.
But he wondered why sometimes, so often, really, that didn’t feel like enough.
~*~
Reese felt funny.
He’d been drugged before, when he was with his first handler. Sometimes after missions, when he couldn’t settle down, but usually for training purposes.You need to know how to fight it. How to keep your mouth shut when you’re under. Building up his tolerance, little by little, teaching him how to fight the sedation so that in the event of capture and torture he wouldn’t give up his handler’s identity or location.
He felt a little drugged now – woozy and sluggish – but mostly he felt warm. And unsteady. He felt like he stood on the deck of a boat on rough water, the ground shifting beneath his feet. His hands didn’t work the way they should – he couldn’t remember the last time he’d dropped anything on accident. He’d watched the bottle slip right through his fingers, his vision blurred and doubled, and shatter with a sound of breaking glass that seemed to come from down a long tunnel.
He had no idea how many beers he’d downed; didn’t remember getting up from the dining table and walking into the kitchen. He was aware that he’d said something he shouldn’t, blurted out something he never would have expressed, normally.
But the most overwhelming sensation of all was a deep, sucking well of sadness that yawned inside him, black and full of dread. Tenny hated him, and it was his fault, and that left his chest, and throat, and eyes stinging in a strange, terrible new way.
Mercy’s hand landed heavy on his shoulder, a comforting heaviness. When he propelled him toward the back door, its grip felt like the only thing keeping him upright. The floor tilted so crazily that Reese had to close his eyes, unable to trust them, his steps small, and shuffling, and graceless.
It seemed to take an hour, and his stomach sloshed dangerously, but then he felt the touch of cool, spring air, and smelled its freshness, and that helped, a little.
Mercy’s other hand gripped his other shoulder, and both of them pressed down. Reese folded, and found a chair beneath him. When he opened his eyes, the Lécuyer back yard swayed and blurred, its shadows distorted smears. He thought there was only one tree, with two bird feeders, but now it looked like two and four. He blinked, breathing shallowly through his mouth, but his vision didn’t clear.
