Page 107 of Fractured Future
“He’s been a part of this team the longest. Every loss has been personal for him, and it’s been that way since he began working for Sabre.”
The extent of Warner’s loss isn’t something I’ve ever considered before. When his parents finally divorced and his father left the country, I think he was relieved it was all over. But he still lost his family.
Then as an adult, not only has he lost a limb and his independence for a long period of time afterwards, but Warner’s also lost multiple co-workers and friends. Especially in the army. Grief just seems to follow him.
Yet it hasn’t closed him off or turned his big heart to stone. Quite the opposite. I’ve never known someone more devoted to his work or willing to put his life on the line to help a fellow human.
“You’ll quickly learn that everyone who works for Sabre has a colourful past.” Hyland releases his neck. “Our histories are what make us committed to this line of work.”
“Perhaps go and tell my brother that.”
“He knows it already. Tom will come around.”
“I don’t care if he doesn’t.” Grabbing a stack of t-shirts, I toss them into the box next. “This is my life. I’m entitled to do with it what I please.”
When another wave of vision-blurring pain sweeps through my skull, I have to pause for a moment to lean against the built-in wardrobe. My legs are ready to give out.
“Ember?”
“I’m good,” I force the words out.
“Let me help. Your folding is giving me fucking anxiety anyway.”
With some deep breaths, I keep hold of consciousness and manage to respond. “Like you ever get anxious.”
The bedsprings squeal as Hyland stands up. “You’d be surprised.”
Nudging me aside, he begins to pull clothes from the rail inside my wardrobe to neatly fold and pack. The longer I watch him, the tighter my throat becomes, constricting with an odd emotion.
For someone who has always craved independence, having him recognise that I’m struggling and insist on helping feels weird. But also good. Soothing. Like I’m not alone in this endless fight to survive.
“Everything is going to be okay.” Hyland folds the lid shut once the box is full. “You’ll see.”
“Are you coming around to the idea of me joining the team?”
“Hah. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
If I didn’t have a headache before, his constant mood swings would give me one.
“I really don’t understand you sometimes.” I rub my aching forehead. “One minute you want to train me so you can keep me safe, the next you’re moaning and stomping off.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, red.”
“Try me.”
Shoving the full box towards the door, Hyland silently starts emptying the wardrobe drawers to fill another. I’m left waiting for an explanation that never comes.
When it’s clear that he isn’t going to indulge me, I take another breath then move to empty my underwear drawer into a third box. No way am I letting him touch my bras and panties.
“Why do women have so many clothes?” he grumbles quietly.
“I have less than most. Don’t be an ass.”
Stacking his box on top of the first one, Hyland averts his eyes when he spots me sorting through cotton and lace. I think the oaf is actually fighting off a blush.
If all it takes is the sight of my underwear to freak him out, he’s going to have a whale of a time living with me. I’m really not sure if Warner has thought this plan through.
Between the two of us, we get Tom’s spare room packed up relatively quickly. I’m shoving my toiletries and toothbrush into a washbag when the apartment door slams loudly.
