Page 48 of Séance

I flinch at his anger, bracing for a slap, only it doesn’t come. A curious sensation fills me, and I tilt my head to the side as I study him. It takes me a second to recognize the emotion—affection.

He genuinely cares.

The knowledge is slightly uncomfortable, and I lower my eyes to avoid meeting his perceptive gaze. When he pulls away, my heart studders in my chest, and I observe him from the corner of my eye.

Ellis doesn’t look at me as he fusses over the burn on my arm, gently swiping ointment on the wound. Having someone tend to my injury is such a novel experience that I’m rendered mute, not pretending to do anything but gape at him in shock. He caps the tiny tube before rummaging through the toolbox full of medical supplies next to me.

He speaks without looking up at me, as if afraid to spook me and send me running.

Smart man.

It takes all my willpower to remain seated and docile.

“Next time you feel yourself slipping, I want you to take a deep breath, hold it for five seconds, and use the time to ground yourself in the present.” He picks up some tape and rips off four even strips. “Focus on what you can smell, see, and touch.”

He uses his teeth to tear open a package of gauze, then he gently lifts my arm to the light. “Even the tiniest detail can help keep you centered. Pick one of your senses, focus on it, then build on it. The second you lose sight of your surroundings, it’s too late, so it’s important to stay centered.”

He lightly presses the gauze over the small wound, but the pain doesn’t even register. I’m so used to being hurt that it’s just background noise. He carefully tapes down the edges, firmly pressing his thumb over the tape, then peers up at me while still holding my arm. “If you ever feel yourself drowning, think of me. Think of our kiss. Remember.”

He releases me reluctantly, and I immediately feel the loss of his touch like a hollow sensation in my chest that threatens to consume me. The air cools when he steps away, and I wrap my arms around myself to stay warm. The events of the day catch up to me, and I’m suddenly desperate for time alone to decompress and process everything that has happened.

For someone who’s used to spending most of their day by themselves, being around people is too much. I slip off the counter and shuffle toward the door as he cleans up the mess he created from doctoring me. “Thank you for taking care of me. I should probably go. I took up enough of your time.”

Before I even finish speaking, I wrench open the door and hurry from the room. Thankfully, Hicks is nowhere in sight, and I nearly sprint straight for the exit.

“Wait!” Ellis shouts from behind me, but I pretend I don’t hear as I dart out the door at a dead run…and plow right into Jaceson. I smack into him so hard that I rebound off him with a yelp. I windmill my arms wildly as I try to catch my balance, but I’m helpless to do anything as my body tips backwards.

Jaceson grunts at the impact, falling back a step, then his eyes widen in alarm when he sees me flailing to stay upright. He lunges for me, wrapping his strong arms around me. Only his quick reflexes stop me from dropping to my ass, and I’m shocked to find myself tucked close to his chest instead of sprawled across the floor.

The scent of sunshine and outdoors clings to his skin and clothes, and I greedily inhale the calming mixture. Jaceson takesone look at my expression, and a harsh mask descends over his face as he looks at the house behind me, his body tensing like he’s braced for an attack.

Footsteps thump across the floor, and I stiffen.

Jaceson peers down at me for a second with narrowed eyes, then he immediately turns on his heel and hurries down the stairs, tugging me after him. With the urge to flee still riding me hard, I follow him without protest.

We come to a halt next to his bike, and my eyebrows shoot up when he shoves a helmet against my chest. I fumble with it for a bit, dragging it over my head, and he latches it for me, never once looking at my face as he focuses on his task. Once done, he throws his leg over the bike, pulls the machine upright, and knocks the kickstand back. When I hesitate, he looks at me over his shoulder with a single eyebrow raised in challenge.

I don’t need any more prompting. I scramble to obey, my first attempt to mount a bike awkward as fuck, but he doesn’t make fun of me. He grabs my arms and wraps them around his waist. When he’s satisfied that I won’t pull away, he starts the bike with a roar of the engine.

The machine hums beneath me like a living beast, and I tighten my hold, wondering about my sanity. I don’t get more than a second of doubt before he guns the throttle, and we take off with a chirp of tires at a speed that has the world blurring around me.

After a few minutes of us not dying, I finally pry my eyes open. As the world zips past, I’m filled with wonder. It’s like we’re in our own bubble, where the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

I sigh as my worries fall away, and I’m able to just breathe. My stranglehold on him gradually loosens, and I tip my head back as I watch the sun dapple through the leaves. For the first time since I escaped my father’s clutches, I truly feel free.

I lift my arms above my head, feeling unstoppable, unchained, and unfettered by the troubles of my past.

As we travel on one twisted road after another, contentment settles in my chest, and I snuggle against Jaceson’s warmth, beyond grateful for the gift he’s given me. It’s only when the sun hovers along the horizon that I’m aware of the passage of time, and I notice we’re back on the street leading toward my house.

We pull into my driveway, and I don’t move as the motor cuts out. The outside world gradually intrudes when the rumbling purr of the engine fades, and I’m strangely reluctant to pull my arms from his waist. They feel empty without him.

Jaceson tips the bike, resting it on the kickstand, before hauling his leg over the seat and dismounting. I move to do the same, only for him to grab me around the waist and swing me down. He looks at my face intently, then his expression softens, and a tiny smirk curls his lips.

He leans forward, gently pulling my fumbling fingers away as I attempt to take off the helmet. He presses a button or something and it snaps open. When he pulls it from my head, I hastily try to tame my wild hair as it springs about me in a mess of waves.

I shift out of the way as he sets the helmet on the seat, his back turned toward me, and I take the time to study him. I was led to believe that the twins are identical. Although he might look similar to Jameson, he couldn’t be more different from his brother.

Their appearances have subtle discrepancies. Jameson has a boyish charm to him that makes him appear younger, while Jaceson seems to be weighed down by the world. He’s just as lean as his brother, but his pale blue eyes have more shards of white in the mix. With his dark lashes, the combination is stunning.

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