Page 65 of Shield and Savior

I can’t stand the thought of Izzy and Drew without me. But Specs took over protection detail while I’m on medical leave. Alana said I could go back over there if she needs to go ‘hunting.’ But the hunters she hired two days ago seem to be bringing back promising leads.

Midge yowls at my door. The stubby-legged cat has taken to sleeping on my bed. Alana doesn’t like it, but she isn’t saying anything. I’ve become fluent in the twitching eyebrows and strained smiles she gives me every time she walks past my room and sees the cat. I never wanted this abomination of science; I don’t like fur all over the place. But Alana never asks for anything for herself.

Sure, she expects a lot but is always reasonable.

When she asked if I would mind if she brought Midge into our apartment two years ago, it was hard to say no.

I hate being suspended. I hate that I let my emotions get the better of me in the last few weeks. I’m disappointed in myself.

I’m also terrified that what I feel for Izzy isn’t real. What if it’s the situation? What if it is the power dynamic?

Then there’s Drew.

He’s his own ball of complex emotions.

I care about all the other kids, but Drew…he’s more than my client. God, and I hate that I let him down. That shreds at my soul.

But the worst is Alana.

I disappointed her. I let her down. It’s like the three of them are attacking me, but my self-loathing and fears score the knockout punch.Izzy hasn’t asked about my relationship with Alana, but I know it’s coming. It has to.

I’ve spent the last few days trying to script what to say when it does come up in conversation. Izzy deserves more than the standard “she’s like a sister” answer. That’s the one I give whenever someone asks if we’re sleeping together.

Truth is, we’re more complex than I thought. She’s tangled in my DNA.

Plus it still hurts when I swallow, thank you very much stomach pumping.

But hey, the cat likes me.

I push open the door and let Midge in. She walks around my room like she’s hunting some invisible mouse. She finally gives up and sits at the foot of my bed and meows. “I don’t know how you did it before. You can get up.”

She looks at the bed and back at me and meows again, a low whine that almost sounds like words. Of course, Alanawouldhave a talking cat. That’s the sort of life she has. I pick up Midge and place her on the bed, watching as she forges a path through my blankets and up the mountain range of my pillows. She circles a few times before curling into a perfect ball.

Six months ago, this never would’ve happened.

I’m not sure what changed, and I don’t know if I’m ready for it.

“Are you stealing my cat?” Alana stands in my doorway. She’s taking a half day for herself. Well, really, the entire staff said they would quit if she didn’t chill the fuck out. But with two days left for the hunters to do their jobs, today is the only time for the foreseeable future Alana might be able to breathe.

“No. She seems to like me suddenly.”

Alana’s eyes drift from the ball of fur to me. “I need to get a few hours in at the shooting range, wanna come?” She rests her head on the door frame, arms crossed. “You and me time.”

We don’t talk while we stand in our galleries. We load up our guns and release a string of rapid-fire shots. Mine are all head and chest shots. Hers are non-lethal—shoulders, knees, hands. The kind that you’ll live through, but you’ll feel every day. She thinks problems can be solved with punishment.

She also gets off more shots than me. Annoying, since I’m the one who taught her how to shoot and clean a gun.But she comes here a couple days a week, mostly at random times so it’s harder to track her movements, while I’ve been spending my time…elsewhere.

“Wanna talk?” I ask, while reloading my gun.

Alana puts on her protective glasses and pulls her hair back into a ponytail. “This day had to come eventually.” She shakes her head and avoids eye contact. She stares at my shirt, my watch, even my shoes. “I always knew you would outgrow me.”

Shit. “I’m not outgrowing you.”

“I’ve held you back for too long.” She dips her head for a second and reloads her gun.

I go to speak, but she unloads another magazine. Once the trigger clicks and no bullets fire, I say, “Hey. You didn’t hold me back.”

“I’m not pushing you forward either.” She puts the gun on the ledge and turns back to me. “Get your shit together if you really want to make this work. She’s a mob princess, and shockingly well-adjusted. And you’re not your father. You’ve stuck beside me longer than he did for you.”

---