Page 45 of Bound By Water
Reining in my thoughts, I nod and take a deep breath. “I’m good. Great. Yep.”
I stand, then make my way toward Beckett, but the whole time, I’m wondering how I’m going to be able to talk about my feelings to someone who has a cleft chin.
“Hi, I’m W… Greer.” Apparently, I’m also a mess.
He nods and stretches a gloved hand toward the interior of his office. “It’s nice to meet you, Greer. I’m Beckett. Please come in.”
I dart a glance at the gloves on his hands. Sometimes in rehab people wore gloves to protect skin that had been damaged badly in a fire, but those aren’t the same. He’s wearing thin black leather gloves. I stop in the middle of the room and wait for him to tell me where to sit.
The office is kind of boring. There’s the obligatory couch. A few upholstered chairs. A large wooden desk with files and papers cluttering the top. The wall of windows makes the room feel light and airy, but there’s little décor to give it much-needed warmth.
A glass of ice water sits on a coaster in the center of the coffee table.
“Sit anywhere you like.” He motions to the options.
Uncomfortable choosing the couch, I contemplate the chair to the right of it, but I don’t like the idea of sitting that close to the stranger who’s trying to delve into my head. So, I sit on the edge of the couch and clasp my hands together.
He smiles and takes the seat across from me. “Once you get to know me, I hope you’ll feel more comfortable in here.” His words make me blush, and I scoot back a tiny bit. “We’ll spend our time today getting acquainted. Sound good?”
Relieved, I nod. “Yes.”
He leans back in his chair and studies me for a minute. “I’m sorry for your loss. Lionel was a good man.”
His words melt a little bit of the stiffness in my spine. “Thank you. I didn’t realize he knew so many people here.” The image of Lionel lying on the ground at the gas station, sweat pouring down his face and his hand shaking while he tries to hold back the fire flashes in my mind, and I can’t help but flinch.
“Want to talk about it?” he offers in a comforting tone.
“It’s too fresh,” I say with a shake of my head. “Can you tell me how you knew him? Was it here?”
He tilts his head to the side. “I met him ten years ago. At West Point. He came to speak to me and my fellow cadets about Army life and to offer guidance on the road ahead of us. Since then, I’ve met him a few times.”
“Did you know he loved to cook?” I ask him with a sad smile. “He was really good at it, too. I’ll miss having dinner with him, testing out his new recipes.” I didn’t even know that was on my mind until just now.
Beckett shakes his head. “I didn’t know that about him.” He taps his finger on his knee. “Did you live close to each other?”
“I lived in his garage,” I tell him, my voice breaking at the mention of it. It’s stupid, but I miss my apartment. My life. “He wanted me close but knew I would need some independence while I completed grad school, so he added an upstairs apartment to his garage.”
“What were you studying in school?”
“Doctorate in physical therapy,” I reply, almost choking on the answer. “Sorry. Losing Lionel, my life, finding out I have powers, it’s all too much right now.”
“What is your power?” he asks in a calm voice.
Surprised, I stare at him. “I thought you all knew. Water, I think.”
“Think?”
I lift a finger. “I’ve only used it once.”
He reaches up to adjust his glasses. “That’s unlikely. We’re born with our abilities, which usually manifest when we’re teenagers. You would have used them long before now.”
“I would have noticed if I had manipulated water,” I insist, irritated by his assumption.
“My guess is you suppressed the memory for some reason,” he continues, as if I hadn’t interrupted him. “Using that as the basis of my theory, I pulled some information from your background. When you were sixteen, you were in an accident with your parents, correct?”
Great. Another raw memory to bring up. “For a casual conversation, you’re bringing up a lot of triggers.” He stares at me, waiting patiently for me to continue. “You’re correct.” The thought of talking about my parents and the accident so soon after losing Lionel is scraping raw nerves.
“The accident report says you woke up in a pond,” he calmly states. “I looked up an old property survey and some other documentation. I also spoke to the family who owns the land. What would you say if I told you the pond wasn’t there before the accident?” he reveals, to my astonishment.
