Page 21 of Power Surge

“I wanted to stop by and tell you I'm sorry about Grem,” I say, my voice gritty as it pushes past the emotions I'm fighting to keep locked down. “We…. He was a part of our team for years. He and I were friends along with being teammates. I know he meant a lot to you—”

A surprised grunt escapes my chest as a small force slams into me, shoving me back against the chair. It takes a moment to register the trembling shoulders and thin arms wrapped around my neck as Taeler, not an attack. Shoving my attack mode reflexes down, I clear my throat and give her back a tentative pat. But she doesn't let go, just continues to hang on me like one of those spider monkeys I’ve seen on the Discovery Channel. Not sure what else to do, I attempt the back pat again, this time with a little more force.

“Stop trying to fucking burp me. Hug me,” Taeler says softly against my chest.

I look to the ceiling with a grimace as I prudently drape an arm across her back, careful to keep the contact to a minimum. My love for Randi’s daughter is purely platonic, and Taeler feels the same way, but that doesn't mean I'm comfortable hugging a young woman in her bedroom at two o’clock in the fucking morning, even if it is innocent.

My brain screams to abort mission.

“She told me about the pregnancy,” I say tentatively, in case the words do more harm to my already complicated situation than good. “How you doing with the news?”

Tilting away, she unravels herself from the tight hold and moves to the bed, perching on the edge. With plenty of space between us, I inhale deeply.

“You know, I’m okay, actually. I should be afraid, but I'm not. That might change tomorrow when I see the doctor or when I have to tell people, but right now, I kind of love it. Maybe because today we buried him, and in that same day I found out I'm carrying a piece of him inside me. He….” She swallows and glances to the ceiling, but that doesn't prevent the steady line of fresh tears from trickling out the edges of her eyes. “He was a good man. You'd be proud of him.” A watery smile pulls at her lips before she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. “He spoke about you and the rest of the guys a lot, told me all kinds of stories. Sounded like you got him into trouble quite often.”

I laugh, a memory of one of our rogue nights in Argentina filling my thoughts and putting a wide smile across my face. “He was an active participant.” I chuckle. “He’s…. He was a good kid though.” I swipe two sweaty palms down my thighs. “How are you doing with the whole kidnapping piece? Randi mentioned you’re seeing a therapist?”

She nods, her blonde hair slipping over her shoulders with the motion. “Yeah, he comes here daily. And it’s good, I guess, better than if I didn’t talk to anyone at all. Loud noises are still a struggle, and the constant fear-laced worry that I’ll be taken again, but talking it through and being honest has helped.” The tremble of her hand as she reaches up to tuck a chunk of hair behind her ear doesn’t go unnoticed. “I don't know why though. He asks me to relive that night almost every session. The first time, I could barely get a single word out. It took an hour to get to the part about the initial attack. But yesterday, it only took twenty minutes to get through the entire ordeal. It's almost like saying it out loud, to someone else, takes the fear out of it, gives me the control back. If I let that fear rule me, then, even though I was saved, they still win.” Her delicate fingers fist the ancient white duvet cover. “They took hours of my life… the man I loved. I won’t give them anything more.”

I nod, pretending I understand even though I have no fucking clue what she means. How could talking about it make it better when it hurts to even say the words? Not only that, how can you talk about something when you don’t even know what you’re feeling yourself? It’s all a crock of shit, which is why I haven’t opened up to my appointed therapist.

Comfortable silence fills the room, both of us lost in our own thoughts.

“I’m a fucking mess.” Raking a hand through my hair, I shake my head. “I don’t deserve her,” I mutter as a wave of self-loathing fights its way into my thoughts.

“My mom?”

I dip my chin.

“Are you serious?” One corner of her lips tugs up in a wiry smile.

“Maybe at one time I did.” A slight tremble starts in my fingers. “But now look at me.” A harsh laugh rattles from my chest.

“Trey.” Her soft voice pulls my focus away from my swirling fears.

I open my mouth, but she starts again before I can get a single word out.

“My mom would never think that about you, you know that, right?” I swallow hard. “And whatever is going on between you two will work itself out. Listen.” Taeler slides off the bed to stand in front of where I sit. “I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, but let me tell you something about my mom that might ease some of your worries. Are you ready?”

The wooden frame of the chair creaks as I lean back, crossing both arms over my chest.

“She's used to people disappointing her. She used to doing everything on her own, not depending on a single soul because, well, people are shitty. But she's opening up to you, so don't mess that up. And it's been hard for her, because you're you and she's her.”

“Oh, you mean the president and a now nameless, no family agent who follows her dutifully wherever she goes, no questions asked?” I seal my eyes shut, focusing on calming my ragged breaths.Fuck, why did I just say that?

“Is that what you think?”

“Guess so.” I didn't even think that until the words were spilling off my tongue.

“You're a fool, then. If you don't see what we all see, then that's your fault.”

Confusion muddles my thoughts, making everything that used to make sense seem sketchy and messy.

“I should go. You need to sleep,” I mumble. “I just wanted to stop by and tell you I'm sorry about Grem. He was a good kid, and I'm going to miss him.”

“Thanks, Trouble.” Minding boundaries this time, she leans in for a quick side hug. “And like I said earlier, talking to someone is helping me. You should try it, even though you don't seem too good at it.” Her wide smile eases the sting her sarcastic words leave behind.

Just as I reach the door, she calls out my name. Both brows raised in question, I glance over my shoulder to where she still stands in the middle of the room, an arm wrapped around one of the bed posts extending high into the air.

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