by Lin Lustig
“I'll fill you in, but first, I have a plan. We're going to break Tarrah out—on Tuesday.”
CHAPTER 55
Licia
Licia shoved her black wad of clothes into the duffel, including her threadbare hoodie. It was supposed to snow soon, and it wouldn’t be enough to keep her warm. Her toiletries were piled in the corner of John's bathroom counter. She swept them up and dumped them in the remaining space at the top of the bag. She was done with this place.
Everyone was going to follow her to her new shop and crash. She'd only gotten the keys on Friday and now they were all moving in? The place was filthy, and she hadn't even set up the utilities in her other name yet. The first order of tea was on its way, but the construction crew wasn't due to start until Wednesday to install the counter and sinks. Unlike in Boston, there was no convenient studio above the shop. She'd planned to convert the back office into a living quarters of sorts, but none of that was ready.
She wasn't ready for this. For them. For John to go out and make stupid proclamations about being some ridiculous Ferly—that term was absurd—and expect her to roll with it. The only reason he kept his cool at all was because she held him in check. Now she was expected to follow along with his plans like an infatuated fool. Clearly, she'd have to remake the boundaries between them.
Why did she have to go and admit how she felt? They were both better off pretending nothing was between them.
The bedroom door whooshed open and she stilled. John filled the doorway, watching as she stopped mid-shove to force the bag to zip closed.
“I'm sorry,” he said, his eyes cast low. “I couldn't let Aubrey be in control.”
“That's what you're sorry about? You shouldn't have let her manipulate you like that,” Licia half-growled the words.
“What?” John pushed off the door jamb and shut the door. The others were likewise packing their things, getting ready for a mass exodus to her damn place instead. She shouldn't have taken a lease. She should have packed up and tried a different country altogether.
Licia forced the zipper closed with a yank that nearly took her shoulder out. “You came out because she wanted you to. You always cave to her and I'll never understand it.”
John's eyes went wide. “No. No! That's not it at all. If this information is released from another source, I'll never be credible to the other Ferly.”
“That's a stupid name for us,” Licia snapped back, not interested in his excuses. She swung her bag over her shoulder and pushed towards the door, but he blocked her.
“Wait. Licia, I'm sorry that's what you thought was happening, but I couldn't let her have you.”
“This isn't about me.”
John raised a hand to her cheek. She looked away but didn't stop his touch. The rush of warmth and excitement at his direct contact made her both thrilled and frustrated beyond belief. She knew better than to let him get this close. Boundaries. Yet, even after proving he didn't trust her, she still couldn't block out her feelings.
“After we free Tarrah, stay with us.”
Licia crossed her arms and stuck out her hip, moving enough to break their contact. She kept her walls up so he wouldn't get a taste of her horrible longing. “What for?”
“Because we... I... you know how I feel about you.” He tipped his head a little, a smile ghosting his lips.
“But you aren't in love with me now,” she said, and it felt like a bee stung her at the words. Stupid. She could taste that his feelings for her weren't what they used to be, not now that John was in love with Emerson and in something with Prisha. She’d known it since that night in the park when he’d yelled at Emerson that he didn’t love her. John may have thought he’d been lying that night, but she knew it wasn’t the same as before. She was wasting her time with this.
“I...” he hesitated. “Things are different, but I do still love you.”
“I don't want to love you.” Her voice was quieter than she intended.
John let out a loud breath. “I don't know what's going to happen with all of this. I don't know if Emerson and I are going to be okay. I don't know if I'm going to be pressured into some kind of deal with Aubrey that forces me to cut all my ties with everyone here but fuck your emotional avoidance. You feel what you feel. I feel what I feel. We can work with it.”
Licia tasted his sickly-sweet sincerity. “You and I will never be together.”
“If you approach it like that, then yeah. But if you just—”
“No, not because of how we feel.” It was time to get this out of her, to dissect her heart and remove the cancer that was John. “You break all my rules. I do things for you I'd never do for other people. I let you influence me and my choices and it’s bullshit. We're bad for each other. You have this reputation of being a lady-killer, a playboy, a sex god. There's no reality where you can be seen with a literal murderer. I run gangs, I sell drugs, I take people out, I launder the fuck out of money like you wouldn't believe. We. Don't. Work.” The extraction felt bittersweet with a touch of relief, and a lot of defeat.
John staggered a step back, like her words had been a physical blow.
As she watched his brow crease and his shoulders sag, she tasted his astonishment, his rejection, and even the slight hint of rubbing alcohol at his shame. Despite it all, she couldn't leave him with that being the final words they shared.
“John, I—” Fuck, words were hard. Fine, just once, she wouldn't use them.
She ditched her bag on his bed, then took his hands. He was so tall, so far out of her reach in more ways than one, so she tugged. He bent down, echoes of his hurt still bleeding into her. When she could reach, she wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him down to her lips. She tempered the rush of arousal with a self-inflicted taste of shame. It was an honest emotion, anyway. This was the last thing she needed, his lips on hers, his hands wrapping around her back. She leaned into him and noticed their height difference wasn't the problem she imagined.
Soon their bodies were aligned, sealed together just like their lips. The soft pressure, the give and take between their mouths was at once the most elating and deflating moment in all of existence. For years she'd wanted to feel him like this, to cross that invisible barrier she'd kept between them, but now that she'd crossed it, she knew it was over.
She couldn't pull away. Didn't want to. His tongue brushed her lips, asking silently for permission. She granted it. His breathing increased, finding depth she naturally matched. Still, part of her buried the old barrier, then destroyed the part of John she'd extracted from her heart. She couldn't love him, so she wouldn't.
The kiss eased as John broke away to catch his breath. Licia let their foreheads rest together and licked the taste of him away.
“Goodbye.” She stepped back, grabbed her bag, and walked past him without looking back.
CHAPTER 56
John
The condo was empty and silent. He'd never spent much time in here alone, but even in those rare hours, it had never felt as empty as it did now.
After Licia had kissed him, he’d been so shocked that he’d fucked up his goodbye to Emerson. After begging Emerson to protect the others, John had tried to tell him everything that was in his heart, but it had come out all jumbled up.
“It’s okay,” Emerson had said. “We’ll figure it out.”
“We will?”
“Just... stop making unexpected decisions, okay?” Emerson had almost smiled.
John had been too stunned to think clearly. “We both know that’s not possible.”
And then Em had left. Instead of telling him everything John had realized about how shitty he’d been, about how keeping secrets hadn’t been the answer, or how he should have come clean the day he’d realized Emerson was like him—he’d made a joke and let him leave.
Now the condo was as silent as a void.
A sensation flooded over his body as the memory of Licia holding his neck—kissing him deeply—flashed in his mind. He was lost in the
kitchen, his mind rocking through stormy waves while his waking body refused to move.
But that kiss hadn't been a beginning. It was an ending, and his eyes watered as he thought of what he'd just lost in her and what that might mean. After they freed Tarrah and any other Ferly on site, Licia would disappear for good. He didn't know why he knew it, but he did. If only she'd let him in all those years ago. Things might be so different now.
After hours of little sleep and lots of churning thoughts, John called Emerson as early as was socially acceptable.
“Hey,” John said lamely, but even hearing Emerson breathe made him feel better. “How's the shop?”
“Dusty, and there's only one bathroom. Do we really have to stay here? I'd feel better protecting you.”
Just like him to want to come back to work, rather than come home. Part of him hoped Em wanted to be near him for other reasons. “No. They need you more. I called Henry. He’s going to keep an eye on the condo. Paparazzi have staked it out, but he can handle them. I know you don’t need my protection, but the less you’re seen around me the better. We just have to wait this out. Come Tuesday, we'll be able to reassess.”
“I don't like this.”
He desperately wanted to ask why. He wanted there to be a reason beyond Ferly and security and have there be something to soothe the ache in his chest where Licia used to be. Maybe it wasn't fair to want to lean on Emerson after everything, but he was still the one he couldn't pull away from. “Did you find a way to get inside without being recognized?”
“Yes, Glen’s going to arrange a surprise operations audit at the hospital used by Columbia. We'll follow him in and hole up in whatever office they stick him into. From there we'll wait.”
“I’ll message you as soon as I find her. Comb the files for anything on Aubrey's research.”
“I know. Don't do anything stupid this time, okay?” Em's voice had that mix of light tease and seriousness that John missed.
“Have you met me?” He wasn’t sure, but he might have heard a breathy laugh.
“I'll call if anything happens over here. Sounds like Licia is going to make us clean as payment for staying.”
Hearing her name made his heart thud, which strangely made him miss Em more. I miss you. He should say it, let him know they wouldn’t have to be like before. He'd just become the first person in the States—and potentially the world—to publicly be out as Ferly. Loving a man seemed so small in comparison.
Emerson made a soft sound, then said, “I've got to go. We'll talk later.” Then he was gone, and the condo was back to being too quiet and too big.
John spent the rest of the morning on the phone with Chloe doing damage control. His social media accounts were blowing up, online tabloids were swimming with pictures of his inelegant escape from the gala, and speculations ranged from secret societies to aliens, all with John as either the fulcrum or the catalyst.
Most sites used photos of him being assaulted after his last performance, and then the exodus last night side by side, the martyr and fool rolled into one tall blond.
It was too much, and no matter how many statements he made or fires he put out with humor and compassion, the public had formed a flash opinion: John Beechum was a freak and shouldn't be supported.
By three in the afternoon he uncorked a bottle of wine and drank it all, letting his vibe uncork as well. Sure, the neighbors would get a rush, but right now he didn't care. Right now, he just wanted to drink and forget forbidden lips and lost nerves.
That night, he received another call from Chloe.
“How are the numbers looking?” John finished rinsing toothpaste from his mouth, his head pounding across his thoughts with each beat of his heart.
“Not good. Your popularity is diving fast, but your notoriety is skyrocketing. People know who you are, that's for damn sure. Problem is, they know you as a dangerous fraud. The recent theories are that you only have your fame and fortune by using whatever ability you supposedly have.”
It wasn't an entirely untrue assessment, but how different was it from using any other unique skill to get somewhere in life? Fuck those people. Maybe literally.
“Okay, have you hired on a new social media manager?”
“I'm interviewing this afternoon, but John, I'm afraid we have a bigger problem.”
“Don't we always,” he joked and regretted it as his head threatened to crack open.
“They recast the Eshield role.”
He sat on the bathroom floor in a rush. “What? But the contracts were signed.”
Chloe's voice broke. She cleared her throat. “I know. I’m sorry. We’ll find you something else.”
They’d voided his contract because of what he was. “I killed my career.”
“No... not really. More like your rep, but we'll get you through this.”
John nodded, though Chloe couldn't see him. They finished talking details, then John ended the call with a vast emptiness filling his mind.
Fuck. He'd really done it. Thrown his dreams and career away to keep the Ferly safe. He'd sacrificed Emerson and Licia. Gotten Azami exposed. They might push him to lead, but couldn't they see he was wretched at this?
He was lost and crushed and absolutely ruined. But... at the same time, it was a little freeing to let go of the him he'd once been. He'd done it before, years ago when Jayden Benson needed to be buried under John Beechum. It hadn’t felt like this, though. Nothing had ever felt like this. But it was over. He was over, and all he could do was begin again.
An idea sparked in the back of his mind, building into a sensation that jolted through his body and cleared his headache, but his thoughts didn't make sense. Reputation. Why was his ruined reputation getting him excited? It took a full minute to process even the fringes of the idea, to hold it into one place and let it shape into something usable.
“You're lucky you've found someone who puts up with your rep.” Prisha had said. Because reputations were everything to public perception. He bolted upright. UHP had a reputation too—a really fucking good one, but he'd just been given a great lesson in how to ruin those.
All he'd have to do—ouch. His headache returned with double the force, pressing against his eyes until it felt like they'd pop out of his head. Then the tile in the bathroom seemed to zoom up to John's face at the same time the counter seemed to shrink away. The dimensions flattened and then the white tile grew even whiter, until his body stilled, and his vision scattered to a distant memory.
He recognized the exhaustion from the night of Aubrey's arrest. The hours of questioning, of watching her slowly sober after the emotional injection. He'd returned to Glen's looking for Licia. His mind sank in, becoming one with the vision just like in a dream.
“Licia?” The house was dark, but he found her borrowed bedroom and cracked the door, calling again. She bolted up in a rush, making incoherent, startled sounds. “Hey, easy, it's me.” He let himself in and shut the door behind him. His eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the dark and he stretched out his hands to find the bed. His shin found it first.
“What's happening? You were gone all night.” Licia cleared her throat.
“It's done. Aubrey's in custody. There will be a trial. It will be a while before this is all over.” He rubbed his eyes. The dim light was finally enough to see Licia by, as well as Azami stretched out beside her, asleep. “I'm going to bury this as much as I can. I don't want others to get the idea that we're lab rats in the making.”
Licia's silhouette in the dark was all angles as she fidgeted. “I don't think anyone should know what we are, what we can do.”
“But there are others of us out there. We need to warn them, protect them. If Azami had known, then maybe she could have—”
“No, I think kids will always suffer the most with this.” Licia was quiet, then said, “She's finally asleep. She wouldn't let go of me for a long time.”
“Poor thing is terrified. Who knows when she last felt safe?”
“Exactly. We're
going to do whatever we have to, to keep our kind safe. We can't let this go public; we have to keep them—us—hidden. Otherwise, we'll be hunted.”
John rested his hand on her thigh, the connection dulled through what felt like sweatpants.
“Deal.” He'd live a secret life if it meant never letting another child endure the torment Azami did. Even if it meant burying pieces of himself forever.
They sat in the silence for a long time as a thread of fate seemed to connect between them.
The vision let up and he was momentarily aware of being in the bathroom, but then his sight wiped clean for the second time before he could move.
This time he was with Emerson. They lay in bed, facing each other, naked. John traced Emerson's face with his fingers, feeling an overwhelming rush of attachment to the man before him, and not just because they'd finally had sex. There was something about Emerson that felt right.
“If I'm not careful you're going to steal my heart,” John quoted from his character. John had had to deliver the line twenty times before Emerson's ex, Markus, was satisfied. John had been so frustrated, but now he knew it was because he'd never really felt that sliver of fear at knowing someone held the most fragile piece of him.
“Would that be so bad?” Emerson quoted back. John broke into one of those grins that felt like it was splitting his cheeks in half.
“Can I ask you a question?” He traced over Emerson’s knuckles.
“Anything.”
John had suspected for a while, maybe only convincing himself it was real. He wanted Emerson to be like him, to share the one aspect of his life he couldn't let others into. “Do you remember the day of The Shift?”
Emerson laughed. “Not where I thought this was going, but yeah. I do. I was home with my family, then the lights went out and my dad passed out and mom puked. It freaked us all out.”
“And what did you do?”
“It didn't affect me at all, far as I can tell.”
He waited, hoping that wasn’t all he’d say. Even like this he could push a little vibe into him and get no response, well, other than a soft smile. “Have you heard the rumors about the kids born after it? How they're a little... different?” John's attempts to lead the conversation were going terribly. He should ask him directly, but it left him too open.