Triangle

by Sara L Daigle

  He threw his briefcase on the table and slung his suit jacket over a chair in the dining area. “My cleaning lady moved away and I haven’t found another one to replace her yet.”

  “Ah, so that so-clean apartment was the result of a cleaning lady. I never would have guessed.” She wouldn’t have, either. Merran always lived in a neat place, and she’d never met the cleaning people, not even when she’d been staying here more often.

  “There aren’t many people I allow in here. It’s a rather intensive search process,” Merran replied, walking toward the bedroom, pulling his tie over his head and unbuttoning his shirt as he went. “Takes awhile.”

  Tamara followed him, hesitating uncertainly at the door.

  “You can come in further,” Merran commented, sticking his head out of the closet. “I’ll change in the closet, I promise.”

  The bedroom had memories, too many memories. Hell, the whole apartment did. It’s a mistake to come back here, she thought, no matter how this conversation goes. They’d had some good times on that large, canopied bed ... She shivered.

  “What happened?” Merran asked, coming out of the closet wearing dark blue tight-fitting jeans and a tucked-in white tailored t-shirt. It accentuated his muscular chest, his silky dark chest hair visible under the open v of the neckline. “You suddenly stopped talking.”

  Tamara turned on her heel and walked quickly out of the bedroom, blinking away sudden hot tears. She took a deep breath. She wasn’t ready for this talk. Something in his manner, and in Greg’s earlier, made her think that maybe the solution to their problems was going to hurt.

  Merran came out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him as Tamara stared over the chaotic mess in the living room and dining room. It helped to see the disorder. Being this messy made it not seem so much like Merran’s apartment.

  “I’ve been meaning to get a hold of you. You’re right, we need to talk,” he said carefully, after a few moments of silence, introducing the subject she didn’t want to address.

  Tamara took a deep breath. “About?”

  “About us.”

  “What … what about us?”

  Merran gave her a look. “You know what about us.”

  Tamara kept herself still, afraid to move or shift. She felt like her world was going to slide out from underneath her. “What about us?” she repeated, not wanting to acknowledge Merran’s statement.

  “It’s not working, with the three of us,” Merran replied, after a moment in which she had the strongest impression that he’d tested her shields. She wasn’t sure, though, because she was concentrating so hard on blocking everything out that she had little attention left for anything else.

  “Greg said you might have a solution for it,” she said, grateful that her voice was neutral and unemotional. Too bad the rest of her didn’t reflect that. She held herself together with an effort that wasn’t pretty.

  “It’s your solution actually.” He turned and walked into the kitchen to pour two glasses of water.

  “Mine? I haven’t come up with any solutions lately. As a matter of fact, I’m so confused I don’t know which end is up.”

  Merran stepped around the kitchen island and handed her the glass. “Don’t sell yourself short, Tamara. You have come up with a solution, and a good one.”

  She took the glass and stared down at it, sloshing the water around the sides. As much as she hated to admit it, she did know what he was talking about. Her recent avoidance of Merran had been instinctive—an effort to smooth out her relationship with Alarin, but it was also an answer of sorts. Just not one she was certain she was completely ready for. Breaking it off sexually with Merran, assuming the bond let them—since, like Greg said, it wasn’t truly permanent—was the easy part. But would it also be possible to stay friends? After having been so much more? Of course, Merran being Merran, how much more had there really been? It was so chokingly awkward right now. Could they work past this? She sipped the water, trying to fight off the thoughts tumbling around in her head.

  “It’s possible,” he said softly, either reading her emotions or mind, or simply knowing what was affecting her so badly. “Anything is possible.”

  Tamara looked at him. It wasn’t fair that he was so calm. What was it Greg had said? Merran had been less emotionally invested in the relationship than Alarin was? “Have you ever done it before? Been just friends with an ex-lover?” she asked, her voice not sounding like her own, hugging her arms to herself as she held the glass of water carefully against her body. Merran stayed very properly wrapped in his own shields, not offering her any physical or mental contact.

  Merran studied her for a moment. “Sort of.”

  She lifted her eyes to meet his, then dropped the gaze. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I’ve done a version of it before. Yes.”

  “With who?”

  “Mellis. Among others.”

  “Mellis?” Tamara frowned at him. The young Azellian woman had come to Earth with the first batch of Azellian students last semester and they’d become friends, but she’d left with Justern when he was sent back to Azelle.

  “It was before I became an ambassador, right after we both Awakened. She was my lover off and on during much of our adolescence.”

  “I knew you’d been with each other; I just didn’t realize you considered her an ex-lover. She said it was pretty casual. Was she the reason you left?”

  “Not at all. She was only a casual lover. It was never serious between us.” Merran did reach out then, but only physically, dropping his hand before he touched her. “You deserve so much more than I could ever give you, Tamara. Alarin is the better choice and you know it. Don’t damage your relationship with him over some fantasy about me. I’m married to my job, and that’s that. You and I both knew that going in.”

  Tamara blinked and lifted her chin. “You never were in love with me, were you?” she asked bluntly, not sure if she wanted to know the truth, or why it seemed important, but maybe it would help her to let go.

  Merran sighed. “Do you want the truth?”

  “Yes.” She clenched her jaw.

  He gave a faint smile. “You probably did come closer than anyone else to making me regret what I’ve chosen for myself. As for being in love the way Alarin is, the way you are with him?” He spread his hands. “No.”

  She knew she was being ridiculous. He was right. Unconsciously, she’d already made that fateful choice to choose Alarin over him, but letting go was harder than it sounded, at least for her. She might have chosen this unconsciously, but to have him say it …

  Hot tears burned at the back of her eyes. She would not cry in front of Merran. She couldn’t, because it wouldn’t change anything and would just make them both miserable. Well, it would make her miserable. She didn’t know what it would do to him, and frankly, at the moment, she didn’t care. The desire to flee suddenly flooded her, and she twitched.

  He must have sensed some of what was going on in her mind, because he stirred. “Tamara,” he said sharply, cutting through the emotional firestorm that gripped her and threatened to make her burst into tears. “Look at me.”

  She refused to lift her eyes to meet his, fighting for control.

  He reached out again and put his hand under her chin, lifting her face to his. His touch on her skin burned. “Don’t. Don’t rip yourself apart over a decision we both made weeks ago.”

  She fought the tears, fought the desire to run away, to hide. In truth, it wasn’t control that made her stand there, letting him touch her. It was the complete inability to move. Paralyzed by her emotions, she literally couldn’t move. An eerie calm filtered through her, and some of the firestorm released her from its grasp.

  His mind touched the outer edges of her shields, and she felt the warm brush of him against her shields. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, letting his hand drop away. “I never wanted to hurt you. I shouldn’t have even tried to be a lover, but I did. That’s how close you came to making m
e regret my life, Tamara. Never before has anyone come that close. I just can’t see you and Alarin break up over this when I know I can’t be the one you turn to. Please forgive me for my misjudgment.”

  “I have to go.” She refused to look at him. She wasn’t ready for the naked truth in his eyes.

  She could sense that he wasn’t happy. He was almost desperate in his fear that he’d irrevocably damaged their relationship, too, but it wasn’t love—at least not the boyfriend-girlfriend type. He did care about her, just not in the way she’d hoped from their more intimate encounters.

  She pressed the elevator button and stepped onto the elevator.

  “Tamara. Don’t go like this. Please.”

  She lifted her eyes to meet his. “I . . . I . . . need time,” she managed to say. “Time. Space.” Thankfully, the elevator doors shut and cut off the sight of him standing there, radiating fear, concern, worry—and pain. She couldn’t deal with him right now; all she had within her was the strength to deal with herself and the new knowledge she had to wrestle with about their relationship before she could reach a new state with him. She rubbed her eyes fiercely as the elevator took her down to the entrance and away from the source of her pain.

  Chapter 3

  Merran stared at the elevator as the doors slid closed, a hollow, empty feeling in his stomach. They might have both made the decision, but it hurt to see Tamara flee like that, running away from him as though he’d ripped out her beating heart. Closing his eyes, he took a slow, deliberate breath, and tried to ignore the sharp jab of regret and self-directed anger. He opened his eyes again, scowling as he jabbed a finger at the elevator button. Time to go see Greg. Maybe that would help.

  A few minutes later, he knocked on the door to Greg’s apartment, and at Greg’s cheerful mental hail, walked inside.

  “What happened?” Greg asked as soon as he saw Merran.

  “Tamara and I ended it.”

  “Oh. Have a seat. You want to talk about it?”

  Merran sank into the thick cushions of the couch. “No.”

  “Okay. We’ll talk about my trip then,” Greg said, sitting across from Merran on an overstuffed white leather chair that matched the couch. He settled back and crossed one leg over the other. “How long do you think I should make an effort to stay? You know the Atherans. They’re going to want me to stay far longer than we want me to.”

  “You’re the Healer. You’ll know when it’s time to leave.” Merran stared down at his intertwined hands. “Did I do the right thing?”

  Greg let him change the subject. “With Tamara?”

  “Yes. I care more about her and Alarin than I do about whether or not she’s in my bed. But ...”

  “But you love her and it’s hard to let her go.”

  Merran frowned. “The word love is a little strong.”

  “Is it? You just stepped away from someone because it’s more important to you to let her go so she can be who she needs to be rather than try to hold her to satisfy your own desires. Sounds like love to me.”

  “She loves Alarin. He loves her. Enough so that he accused me of trying to break them up.”

  Greg raised an eyebrow. “He’s obviously jealous.”

  “Extremely. Worse than when we were adolescents exploring our sexuality. He swore at me in jygar. I didn’t even realize he knew it. He’s a Raderth. Raderths don’t spend time in the outer caves.”

  “No, but Healers Heal anyone from umanaarya to urro-ken, and his sister is a Healer, Mer. Kyla taught him enough about Healer psi-training techniques that he was able to help us train Tamara in how to use her psi. Why wouldn’t she have taught him a dialect that is uniquely suited to expressing strong emotions in the most colorful way possible?”

  “Do you know jygar?”

  “Of course. I’ve gone to the outer caves to Heal before, too. If I couldn’t communicate with the urro-ken, how could I Heal them?”

  Merran frowned at his friend. “I didn’t know that. So when I used to say all that stuff in jygar …”

  A smile flashed across Greg’s face. “I understood what you meant, yes.” His smile faded. “This is beside the point, though. Alarin doesn’t share well, and Tamara isn’t used to sharing. She wasn’t raised that way. You know that.”

  Merran rubbed a hand over his face. “And I’m never going to be the person she wants me to be. But … there’s a part of me that wonders if … what if things were different?”

  “With Tamara, or just in general?”

  “Either … or both maybe.”

  Greg looked at him steadily. “Are you saying you want a relationship?”

  “No, not really. Tamara and I … it’s like neither one of us is really quite seeing the other. She wants me to be something I’m not, and I … my relationship with Alarin means more to me than being with her does. Is that love?”

  Greg shrugged. “Do you need to define it?”

  “I guess not.” Merran sighed. “But there’s this regret. Like I should have done something different.”

  “You’re allowed to mourn what might have been, even if you know it couldn’t work with you and Tamara. Although you want Tamara and Alarin to be happy, and you love them both, Mer, there is sadness in having to step away.”

  Merran stared at his hands. “My usual method of moving on is to bury myself in meaningless sexual encounters. I can’t do that, not with Tamara sharing my psyche the way she does. And my sharing her psyche while she and Alarin …” He shuddered. “Sharing in the mental residue of their lovemaking is not going to help me move on.”

  “Ah, now that I can help with,” Greg said, moving so he could kneel in front of Merran. “I’ve been talking to people I know at the Temple in an effort to figure out just what a bond does to the people involved,” he said. “It both enhances and blocks psi. The bond doesn’t last forever, if it’s not constantly renewed. Although breaking it can be very dangerous, if it has had a chance to get itself tied to your psyche. How long has it been since you had sex with Tamara?”

  “A month or so. It’s definitely been a while. Except for this afternoon, I haven’t really even talked to her since she left on vacation … much less had sex with her.”

  Greg lifted a hand. “May I touch you?” he asked.

  Merran nodded and leaned forward slightly. He could feel the warmth of Greg’s hand on his forehead and the slight tingling sensation of Greg’s mind as it scanned lightly over him.

  Greg sat back after a few minutes, removing his hand. “Well, the bond is still there for sure. I can see it linking the two of you. But it is thinner than it was last semester. I think I can block it so you can’t hear Tamara and she won’t hear you anymore either. It will still be there, and very strong emotions might rip through my barrier, but it will prevent the two of you from sharing each other’s sexual encounters.”

  Merran blinked. “Please. By the grace of the aarya, please.”

  Bowing his head, Greg wrapped his fingers lightly around Merran’s wrist and closed his eyes. Warmth spilled through Merran, a warmth that coated and soothed.

  “That feels weird,” Merran said after Greg had pulled his hand away. “Like I’m in a box or something. Sound is … muffled.” He put a finger in his ear and jiggled it, but it had no effect.

  “It’s not sound that’s being blocked, it’s your empathic talent,” Greg said, getting to his feet and settling on the couch next to Merran. “The bond seems to have linked you and her together through your respective empathic talents. I just temporarily blocked your empathy, to give you both a chance to have some space. The block might blunt your ability to channel emotion a bit. It will dissolve on its own in a few months, but for now, it should give you the space you need.”

  A tension Merran didn’t know he’d been holding spilled out of him. “It’s worth it, if it gives Tamara and me some distance from each other.”

  “What can you sense now?”

  Merran closed his eyes and listened. The low-level pain and anger was
gone, as was the sharp ache of regret. “Silence. Blessed, blessed silence.”

  Greg smiled. “It worked then. I’m glad.”

  “You’re a miracle worker, Gregerin Tenricth.”

  Greg’s smile stretched into a grin. “You would have gotten there yourself, eventually. I just accelerated things.”

  “Well, whatever it was, it helped. Thank you. So, do you want to go over the details about how long you’ll be on Ather?”

  “I’m a Healer. I’ll know when it’s time to leave.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  Greg looked at him, cocking his head. “You just told me, not five minutes ago, that I’d know when it was time to leave, Mer.”

  “I did?” Merran shook his head. “I don’t remember.”

  Greg studied him for a moment. “The spillover between your and Tamara’s emotions, and your ability to hear her and Alarin’s sex life might be gone, but you still need to give yourself some room to grieve, Mer. Despite what you think, I suspect you cared more than you want to believe you did. And although your tendency is to bury yourself in your work, I believe that because of how you’ve felt about Tamara, your judgment may be off right now. When was the last time you took a break from everything?”

  “I don’t know. Years maybe. Are you telling me you think I should go away for a while?”

  “It might be a good idea.”

  Merran shook his head. “I can’t right now. There’s too much going on. I’ve got several media interviews scheduled for the next few weeks and a sensitive treaty with the Dorbin that I’m in the middle of.”