The negotiation is happening because I’m alone again in this new room. I almost feel the tension on the other side of the one-way glass in front of me. I’ve been alone since they wheeled my bed in here, sometimes staring at my miserable reflection in the mirror, but mostly preferring the backs of my eyelids.
I did the worst thing possible by triggering Emery’s fury right before the talks. Still, my error changes nothing. No matter her frame of mind on the other side of the glass, she’ll never get what she wants. My best hope for relief is angering someone to the point of receiving a well-placed bullet.
I force my eyes open at the click of the door and don’t even get a chance to draw in a breath before the terror sets in.
“No… No!” Instinct twists my body as far as the restraints allow, but they ignore me. Stacy. Roy. Isaac. My screams are irrelevant. Isaac especially avoids my eyes as they approach. Fuck, not again. The negotiations aren’t going well. They’re…
My chest jerks from the ionizer. Right in the soft flesh of my side this time. Fire radiates through my skin, burning every cell on its way to my brain. Another and another. I can’t even hear my own screams. I’m too weak for senses other than touch. And then they stop. Step back like they’ve just delivered my breakfast.
I gasp for air, straining to give assistance to my lungs and relieve the pressure on my volcanic torso. Sweat drips down my temples as I close my eyes and try to focus on something to claim my mind from the pain.
“Your handwriting is terrible, you know that?”
I glance up at Andie who hangs over my shoulder, watching me scribble a note to myself. It’s adorable the way she blurts whatever pops into her head. I never know if she’s flirting or just tossing her thoughts into the air. I look for some clue in her expression, but her eyes only shine like they do every time she knows she’s right.
“A lot of lefties have terrible handwriting.”
“A lot of righties also.”
“You think you can do better?”
“Give me that.”
She grabs the pen from my hand and shifts the notepad within reach. “What are you trying to write?”
Trying to write. Somehow I manage to keep my humor within the normal range of human interaction because no one understands how magnified it becomes on the rare moments I encounter it. I crave laughter, and this girl is a constant stream of opportunity. She’s dangerous. Shit, I don’t know how to switch off this ray of light in my universe. I’ll just have to be strong. I’m good at that.
“I was writing, ‘Remember to tell that annoying assistant of mine to mind her own business,’” I say.
She snorts and writes: “Remember to tell that awesome assistant of mine how amazing she is,” and shoves it back to me.
This time laughter rings from my chest, and I’m rewarded with a breathtaking grin.
“Don’t you have filing to do?” I say before I get lost.
“I’m waiting for you to tell me if the RP-7s should be combined with the corresponding RP-38Cs or kept together.”
I curse and massage my temples. “Isn’t it your job to figure that out for me?”
“Is it?”
I match her smile. “Yes,” I decide. “Go figure that out.”
She claps her hands in excitement, and I’ll admit I’m not nearly as engaged with my screen as I make it seem.
“Dammit! Wake him up! Wake him… there he is.”
I squint into the light, disappointed it’s different than what it should be in my office with Andie. I must have zoned out again. The pain. Does things like make you think you’re awake when you’re not. Makes you want to die when you’re an expert at surviving.
“Someone to see you,” Emery says to me. “You have two minutes,” she directs to the visitor. Her words barely register as I close my eyes again. “Hey. Wake up!” That slap. I’m so sick of them using my face to get my attention, but it’s the other female gasp that affects me more.
I force my eyes open and almost pass out again. I’m full of narcotics. It’s the only explanation.
“Kaleb!”
Andie rushes forward for no reason I can comprehend and reaches for my hand. She grasps it like we’ve never touched before, clings to it, pulls it to her lips, cradles it against her forehead.
“Two minutes,” Emery repeats before leaving us alone.
Andie’s eyes meet mine, and I can’t stand the horror in her expression, the excruciating ache of understanding my fate. My brain is all questions. Thankfully, she reads it.
“We don’t have time to explain, okay? I just…” She starts crying. My strong, determined warrior-assistant breaks into sobs because I broke my promise to remove myself from her life. “God, Kaleb, I love you so much. So much.” Warm fingers run over my face. Then it’s her lips making contact with mine, sending a wave of heat through my dead body. Life. Inspiration. Dammit, hope, even.
“They’re going to kill me, Andie. It doesn’t matter what you do. They’re going to kill me,” I mutter against her soft, perfect mouth. Because I’m not lying to her anymore. I’m not going to offer hope when all I have to give is a memory.
“No! No.” Stern Andie, damn stubborn is what she is, looks for something in my face. She must not find it because her eyes fill again. “You’ve given up.” She blinks tears down her cheeks.
“What choice do I have?”
“What about me? What am I supposed to do without you?”
I can’t. Not ever because there is no forever with her. “You need to figure that out. I have to know you’re going to be okay.”
“But I’m not! Not without you.”
I shake my head. She stills it in her grip, another kiss, this one saturated with glimpses of that forever we won’t have.
“Just survive. Please,” she whispers. Her eyes are different now, piercing, sending me a message I don’t fully understand, but accept anyway. She’s not giving me a choice either. I will survive. I have to because I will not betray her.
“I’ll keep fighting.”
She shakes her head. “No, just survive. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Time’s up,” the dreaded voice interrupts, and I choke at Andie’s tears, the desperate grip on my fingers. Our time wasn’t right. Too much and too little. It was better when she was just a memory.
“Andie.” I can’t even get the words out.
“I know.” She kisses me again, frantic, as they take her arms and drag her away.
“Let’s go.”
I love you, she mouths, her wet face so beautiful and tragic it crushes what’s left of my soul.
“I love you too.” My response is automatic because it’s a truth I’ve harbored since the day she walked into my office. But I regret my confession when hope lights her eyes. Hope is a terrible thing. I want to scream for her to stop, that I take it back. Repeat all the lies I threw at her in the lounge after my arrest, but I’m too late. She’s gone, and I’ve betrayed the woman I love.
I gave her hope.