"I know," he says, glimpsing my way. "Nor do I. We just…have no choice. Accept what we cannot change, correct?"
I raise an eyebrow. "Been to many A.A. meetings, have we?"
"Have you been to one recently?"
"I'm not going to get plastered because some asshole sprayed bullets at me."
"If you say so," he says in a small voice. The temperature in the room feels like it's gone down twenty degrees, the chill emanating from my companion.
"I do say. And it's none of your damn business anyway."
"Fine." It lowers another ten degrees.
"Good. So, what should we do in the meantime?"
He pauses before swallowing as if he's tasted something sour. "We're trying to track Boneshaker. One of the men we spoke to about the explosives said he was approached last week by Mr. Percy about a potential job at the Botanical Gardens. We're keeping an eye on it. Then there's the garden variety crime. Tempest is pursuing a family annihilator, as is your old squad. All is well in hand." He stands. "I'm done here, it's all yours. Enjoy your evening, Miss Fallon." He steps away, mouth set straight in anger.
It infects me. "Excuse me, are you mad at me?"
"Of course not," he says sharply, killing those words.
I roll my eyes. "Jesus Christ, what the hell do you want from me, man?" I leap up and stalk toward him. "You want me to bear my soul to you? Share my innermost thoughts and fears? You want me to trust you?" I ask with a laugh. I try to meet his eyes but his head swivels to deflect. "You won't even look me in the eye. You don't even have the balls to tell me who you really are. Until you do, you're just another masked vigilante who uses my computer, and I occasionally have a sandwich with. You're keeping me on the outside, and though I do know and respect why, it makes trust hard. It's a two way fucking street, and you're still on the highway."
"And you're not?" he asks, voice hard. "Have you told anyone what you do in here?"
"Those who need to know do."
"And you don't trust the others to understand."
"Don't you turn this around on me! I'm not the one…" I snap my mouth shut. "You know what? I'm done with this conversation. Done."
"Fine. As am I."
"Good!"
"Fine!" He lifts off the ground and flies away, taking the last word with him.
Of all the…he has the nerve to…fuck him! He should thank me for keeping my trap shut not giving me shit. I swear all superheroes are nuts. Certifiable.
I'm done. I'm spent. I need out of this fucking room. I've done enough for the betterment of humanity today. I shut off the lights and stomp up to the house, fuming. First I get chastised, again, for helping then I'm made to feel like shit for not shouting from the rooftops that I'm in league with heroes? I don't tell anyone to keep my ass safe, same as him. Until he rips that mask off, he just needs to keep his fucking mouth shut about trusting people.
After brushing my teeth, I turn off the lights and get into bed again. No matter how hard I try, and I do try, my mind races a trillion miles an hour. Images from the day are replayed until I'm curled in the fetal position hugging my legs. Guess I'm not as strong as I thought. It just took awhile to sink in. I was shot at today. If I hadn't ducked when I did my brains would be splattered inside that car like a macabre painting. I've had front row seats to that horror show before. Fuck it. I open my eyes and turn on the TV, hoping the noise will drown out my thoughts.
After fifteen minutes, I give up that dream as well. God, being sober sucks. If this were a year ago I'd be pouring Bourbon, popping a pill, or driving over to Harry's so he could screw the demons away. A year before that I'd call Justin and we'd talk or meet for late night pancakes at Nell's Diner. Now I know why he was always in the city at night when I needed him. I just thought he was working late. Suppose he was.
Fucking superheroes. He could have told me. He should have told me. Even now a large part of me hasn't forgiven him for all the lies. I know the reasons in my head, but that doesn't mean the wound in my heart isn't still tender. How the hell are you supposed to trust a person who won't share such an important part of their life with you? A part of themselves? How can you even begin to build on that? No idea, but boy do I want to.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Guardian Angel
Of course I'm awakened all of two hours after I fall asleep by the ringing phone next to my head. So much for Jem, me, a beach, and nothing but a towel. This had better be life or death or heads will roll.
"Hello?"
"It's Tempest. We need you down at command."
"What--" He hangs up. "Fuck."