Page 58 of The Mercenary's Guide to Mishaps and Romance

Fuck. I think I’m making it worse.

I turn away from the door and walk over to him. When he glances up at me, I notice his eyes are red, but he’s forced the tears away.

“You need something?” he asks.

There’s a single tear left, paving a path down his bruised cheek. When it reaches his chin, I reach out and swipe it away, almost feeling like I’m mesmerized by it.

“I’m… sorry all of this shit has happened to you,” I say as I realize that I’m still touching his chin. He doesn’t seem to mind, and I can’t find any desire to let go, even though I know I really should.

“It’s not your fault.”

I finally force my hand to drop, and his eyes follow it. Did he want it to stay? I am not good at this. “Well… it kind of is. Though I suppose if he hadn’t hired me, he’d have hired someone else who might not have been any kinder. But…” But what? “I… uh… don’t quite know what you’re going through. But… I’m sorry. Do you want to go be with your family?”

His eyes drop. “No. I’m just tired… and scared… and afraid something’s going to happen to the only two people I have. My mom asked me over to have dinner with her the night before I was taken and I was tired, so I turned her down. And what if I could have spent one more moment with her and I chose not to so I could go home and watch some shitty TV and eat some unhealthy takeout?”

“Your mom and sister are safe,” I say. “And we’re going to figure this out and end it.”

Ellis starts blinking harder, but he can’t stop the tears from coming. “I feel like such an idiot. The rest of you are all like ‘It’s fine, this is a walk in the fucking park,’ but my walks in the park are usually peaceful. Not getting the shit beaten out of me, thinking I’m going to die, being shot at, and jumping out of a fucking airplane, you know?”

“Yeah…” I respond, realizing that maybe no part of what just happened was normal. “I guess… growing up in it, I became used to it. So… maybe I’m not the best person to… I don’t know, talk to about this stuff.”

He rubs his face. “No, you’re fine. I’m just… tired, you know? Long day. Very long day. Thanks… for talking to me, though. It made me feel better.”

I stare at him, confused howanythingI said could have made him feel even remotely better. “Well… uh, I’m glad I could be helpful. I always knew I should be a therapist or something.”

Ellis snorts, telling me that maybe I hadn’t beenthathelpful, but at least he’s not crying anymore.

“Did you clean your face up at all?” I ask.

“I took a shower. Do I still have dirt on my face?”

“Hold tight,” I say as I slip out and head back to the bathroom where I grab the medical kit that had been left out. I carry it back into the room where he’s fumbling with the sheets. “Sit on the bed.”

“Oh, I guess I didn’t put anything on the cuts. It’s fine.”

“Sit,” I repeat. “If you don’t sit, I’ll pin you down and apply it. And if you struggle, I’m sending you down into the basement.”

“Do I even want to know what’s in the basement?”

“One hundred percent hell,” I say as I wipe some antibiotic cream on the cuts before putting a Band-Aid over the larger one, so he doesn’t get blood on the pillow. “You should probably put ice on that, too. I’ll get you some.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t want to bother them or you.”

“You worry too much,” I say. “Do you think Leland was afraid of bothering you when he made you look at his sacred fence?”

Ellis grins a little. “Probably not. I’m still really confused by that fence.”

“We all are,” I assure him.

That makes him laugh.

“Oh, wait, I was supposed to ask if you’re good at math.” I kind of forgot about Waylon and his mess of math problems when I saw the tears.

“I’m decent. Why?”

“Waylon’s struggling with his math homework.”

“Oh, yeah, let me see what I can do,” he says as he gets up. And just like that, he’s pushed all of his worries back. His eyes still look a little red, but not as red as mine from being sprayed in the face with an entire can of bathroom spray.

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