chuckled.
“Have you spent time with her yet?”
“Yeah. Her name’s Laila Lewis. She grew up Amber.”
“Tell me about her.”
“She’s…” Rock fell silent until he found the right words. “She’s intelligent, fun, Amber through and through. She’s been soaking up the touch time since she found out I’m from Amber too.”
“Pretty?”
“Very.”
“Sounds like you like her. You going to take her on in a personal capacity?” Rock could tell his father smiled as he asked the question.
“No.”
“Why not?”
Rock’s chest clenched and guilt sat heavy in the pit of his stomach.
His father sighed. “You’re alive, Rock. You didn’t die on that floor. You have to start living again.”
“I know. I just feel guilty. Like I’m betraying her by even having this conversation.”
“All I’m saying is, it’s okay to let go.”
“How do I do that?” he asked, louder than he’d intended. He reined in his knee-jerk reaction. “Because I don’t know how. Not without making what we had seem less somehow. Less mind-blowing.” The sob stuffing his throat made it difficult to speak. “Less gut wrenching. Nothing about what we had was less, Dad.”
“I know, son. I loved her, too. But I love you more, and if you have even a slight chance to build something again with someone else, you have to take it. It won’t cheapen what you and Emily had. And, Rock, she would have wanted you to be happy.”
Silence between them lengthened. Rock tried to lighten the mood. “Well, in any case, it’s a good thing I don’t have to spend the next couple of months with a troll.”
His father laughed. Then, after a few more beats of silence, he continued. “I called Xander. He invited me to dinner tomorrow night. Said he’d invite Journey, too.”
“Good. Is he taking good care of her?”
“She’s coming out of her shell.”
“Give her a hug. Tell her I love her.”
“I’ll do that. Call me tomorrow, at a decent hour, if that’s at all possible.”
By then, his father would have the letters he’d left the last time he was at the Resistance drop house. “Will do. Go back to sleep.” Rock ended the call and glanced at the clock. Time to get the trainee up. He had a big day planned.
After a half hour of watching Laila drag ass, he sent her across the street to get dressed for their first day of real training. He waited impatiently for her to return, intermittently glancing out the window to see if she was on her way back. When he finally caught sight of Laila crossing the street, she was not the flowing skirt, sandaled, bohemian-looking woman he’d gotten glimpses of before their training started. She was decked out in the standard issue recovery team uniform—black, from the zippered cargo pants and military style boots to the black T-shirt and Kevlar body armor.
He met her at the door and chuckled. “You can ditch the body armor. You won’t need it today.” He pulled the tabs free and lifted the vest over her head.
“Good. That thing is hot.”
He led her to the kitchen, and placed a heaping plate of biscuits and gravy in front of her. “I recommend you eat it all. You’re going to need the energy.” He packed them a lunch then leaned against the counter, watching her.
She’d put a good dent in the pile then pushed the plate away.
“Ready?”
“I hope so.”
During the ride to OZ, she stared out the window. Her silhouette against the morning sun revealed the graceful slope of her neck and the red highlights in her long brown ponytail.
She hadn’t smiled once since she’d gotten out of bed that morning. His benefriend rejection might have hurt her feelings. The last thing he wanted to do was add to the strain she was under, but it looked as though he had anyway. He knew what she needed, and would give it to her. But his proclivity for extreme sex and compulsion for the enmeshed relationship he thrived on would only stress her more. By the end of the day, she’d have
“Have you spent time with her yet?”
“Yeah. Her name’s Laila Lewis. She grew up Amber.”
“Tell me about her.”
“She’s…” Rock fell silent until he found the right words. “She’s intelligent, fun, Amber through and through. She’s been soaking up the touch time since she found out I’m from Amber too.”
“Pretty?”
“Very.”
“Sounds like you like her. You going to take her on in a personal capacity?” Rock could tell his father smiled as he asked the question.
“No.”
“Why not?”
Rock’s chest clenched and guilt sat heavy in the pit of his stomach.
His father sighed. “You’re alive, Rock. You didn’t die on that floor. You have to start living again.”
“I know. I just feel guilty. Like I’m betraying her by even having this conversation.”
“All I’m saying is, it’s okay to let go.”
“How do I do that?” he asked, louder than he’d intended. He reined in his knee-jerk reaction. “Because I don’t know how. Not without making what we had seem less somehow. Less mind-blowing.” The sob stuffing his throat made it difficult to speak. “Less gut wrenching. Nothing about what we had was less, Dad.”
“I know, son. I loved her, too. But I love you more, and if you have even a slight chance to build something again with someone else, you have to take it. It won’t cheapen what you and Emily had. And, Rock, she would have wanted you to be happy.”
Silence between them lengthened. Rock tried to lighten the mood. “Well, in any case, it’s a good thing I don’t have to spend the next couple of months with a troll.”
His father laughed. Then, after a few more beats of silence, he continued. “I called Xander. He invited me to dinner tomorrow night. Said he’d invite Journey, too.”
“Good. Is he taking good care of her?”
“She’s coming out of her shell.”
“Give her a hug. Tell her I love her.”
“I’ll do that. Call me tomorrow, at a decent hour, if that’s at all possible.”
By then, his father would have the letters he’d left the last time he was at the Resistance drop house. “Will do. Go back to sleep.” Rock ended the call and glanced at the clock. Time to get the trainee up. He had a big day planned.
After a half hour of watching Laila drag ass, he sent her across the street to get dressed for their first day of real training. He waited impatiently for her to return, intermittently glancing out the window to see if she was on her way back. When he finally caught sight of Laila crossing the street, she was not the flowing skirt, sandaled, bohemian-looking woman he’d gotten glimpses of before their training started. She was decked out in the standard issue recovery team uniform—black, from the zippered cargo pants and military style boots to the black T-shirt and Kevlar body armor.
He met her at the door and chuckled. “You can ditch the body armor. You won’t need it today.” He pulled the tabs free and lifted the vest over her head.
“Good. That thing is hot.”
He led her to the kitchen, and placed a heaping plate of biscuits and gravy in front of her. “I recommend you eat it all. You’re going to need the energy.” He packed them a lunch then leaned against the counter, watching her.
She’d put a good dent in the pile then pushed the plate away.
“Ready?”
“I hope so.”
During the ride to OZ, she stared out the window. Her silhouette against the morning sun revealed the graceful slope of her neck and the red highlights in her long brown ponytail.
She hadn’t smiled once since she’d gotten out of bed that morning. His benefriend rejection might have hurt her feelings. The last thing he wanted to do was add to the strain she was under, but it looked as though he had anyway. He knew what she needed, and would give it to her. But his proclivity for extreme sex and compulsion for the enmeshed relationship he thrived on would only stress her more. By the end of the day, she’d have