KEEP (Men of the ESRB Book 2)

by Shiloh, Hollis

  "Usually I can't tell people things. They don't believe me, or they take it wrong, or it makes things worse somehow. But I have to trust you if we're going to stay together, don't I?"

  I said nothing, just held him, loosely and gently. If he wanted to get free, he could. He could leave any time.

  "Oh," he said, anguish in his voice, as he closed his eyes. A couple of tears leaked out. "Oh, I can't lose you." It was such a raw exclamation, from deep inside his soul, that I was startled.

  "I don't want to lose you, either, believe me. You're my last chance, but . . . more than that, too." I felt confused, not sure how to put it into words, not sure where we stood even now.

  He looked at me, his soft blue eyes anguished, and gulped. "I have to try. I have to trust you, if nobody else," he said. "All . . . all right." He closed his eyes again for a moment, gathering strength. He clung to me tightly.

  "I — I had visions about you. That first day I met you — I'd seen you before, but only in visions. Then you were real, giving me the surprise of my life, just walking up like that and saying hello. To me, it was a settled thing already. That we'd be together. I knew I couldn't say that. I didn't want to, either. It would've interrupted the natural flow of our relationship." He took a gulping, shuddery breath.

  He closed his eyes, a tear trickling down from one corner. I reached up and wiped it away automatically. "Take your time." I didn't want to make him tell me now. "You can stop whenever you want."

  He wiped at his eyes shamefacedly and met my gaze nervously. "That night . . . when we watched the movie, and it was so comfortable?"

  "You were so happy," I remembered, smiling, sliding a strand of his hair back. "It was nice."

  "It got me through some bad days, that one." He smiled, shy and cheeky, his dimple showing, his eyes warm and sweet with remembered happiness and comfort. "Of course I thought we were already together in it, and that turned out to be wrong — just how close we were, how happy I felt — but the rest of it was right there. The movie, the feelings, the perfect day, the comfort of it — even the chocolate. I knew it was in the future, because the movie hadn't been released yet when I had the vision. I scoured the internet and newspapers for that movie, every year. I couldn't wait. I hoped it was there, because obviously I couldn't have that evening with you before the movie was out."

  We stared at each other; I blinked, realizing just how much he had known about us, and how much it had affected him. His calm confidence about our relationship had some pretty firm roots in reality, if he'd known all of that.

  He continued, "I was pretty close to giving up. Everything had gone wrong in my life for a long enough time that I was pretty close to the end when I had the first vision of you. You saved me. Just knowing there would be you, that it would be worth it someday, if I stayed alive, if I waited. You'd find me, and we'd be together. You'd love me." He said the words simply, and meant them from the bottom of his heart.

  Great. I was going to start crying in a minute. "Well, I — I do." I hoped it was true, would stay true, that he wouldn't get fed up with me. "Do we, uh, have a future together?" I asked, as cautiously as I could, yet desperate to know. To have this to look forward to — someone wanting to keep me . . .

  He looked down at my chest, his face sober. "Yes. I don't know how much I should tell you, but . . . yes. I've seen you and me together, when we're old. We're happy together. We belong together. We just . . . work." He looked up, giving me a twisted, pained smile, his eyes full of tears he wasn't letting fall.

  "But?" I faced him, squeezing his shoulder encouragingly, trying to comfort him, let him know I was still here and listening, still believing him. There was a big weight on him that he didn't want to share.

  "But . . . I also have a time when . . . when we're not together. When I'm looking for you and can't find you. My heart is broken," he said simply. "And I'm afraid . . . I'm afraid it's going to be now, that you'll leave me and be fed up with my stupid visions and . . . and always thinking I know things. I'm not trying to drive you away, but . . . I just couldn't keep quiet about it. Something is wrong."

  "I don't have anywhere to go, and I'm not leaving you. C'mere."

  He huddle closer, a hiccupping, trembling wreck. He'd shared his secrets and dark fears. I thought they were a lot more manageable than he seemed to. Our flight being his decision weighed on him terribly. I felt much calmer about that part.

  "My life has had a lot of upheaval for most of it," I informed him. "I'm pretty used to it. If we're on the lam for six months — or longer — I don't think I'll be that bothered. We have a lot more resources than I've had in the past, ever. Money, your power and my power combined, and . . . and each other. Even if we don't have any friends to help us — and I highly doubt that's going to be the case — and it drags out, my life is still a huge improvement here, with you, from where I was in the past."

  I thought of the men I'd been with, trying to change myself for, wondering when they'd leave me and how I'd wreck it this time. The great, soul-tearing weight of loneliness, wanting someone to love me, to want me, to keep me — to not laugh at me or look down on me or be disgusted by me, turned off by my annoying ability to know if they were lying, by my restless nature, and my loud mouth and short body.

  "I'm here," I told him simply. "And there's nowhere I'd rather be."

  "I want it to last," he said. "I love you. I don't want that vision to come true — the one where my heart is broken and you're not there — but no vision has failed to come true for me yet. I don't know what happens or when. But please . . . please come back to me." He stared at me hard, as if trying to communicate and plead with my future self. "I'll try harder. I'll try never to let you down. We can figure it out, or else we wouldn't have that future of being old men, happy together. And I know that part is true, too. I . . . I'm sorry for being such a wreck about this. I don't usually talk about my visions." He sniffed and wiped at his dripping nose.

  "Here." I got him some tissues, and we sat up. He blew his nose and wiped his eyes. His fingers were still trembling, but he already seemed calmer, relieved he'd shared with me. "I'll come back," I promised him. "And I'm not leaving anytime soon. Anyway, it might not be quite like you think, just the way watching the movie with me wasn't."

  He nodded slowly, his brow still troubled. "But I don't want you to be in danger, either — to be away from me because you have no choice."

  He'd clearly given this a lot of thought, and it had caused him untold anxiety. He really didn't want to lose me. It was strangely touching for someone to feel that way about me. It was a very new experience for me.

  We sat sprawled on the bed, an elegant arrangement of slender bare limbs, two handsome young men in the prime of their lives. It was hard to imagine us as old. Hard to imagine being with one man for the rest of my life.

  But not because it seemed like it would chafe; I really cared for Ellery, and I was growing fonder of him every day. But there had never been anyone in my life who wanted to put up with me for any remotely long period of time. I was the fuckboy, or the boyfriend who got old really fast, or the one-night stand, the amusement carnival ride, a fun distraction but nothing to go home to.

  I stared down at our bare legs, the way they looked next to each other. There was only the faintest of pale peach fuzz on his legs, visible when the light hit it like a tiny halo, but not otherwise. It was very appealing. I used to prefer a hairier man; not anymore. His knobby knees, so vulnerable, and the curve of his arm and shoulder next to me. I put an arm around him again and kissed him on the neck.

  "I'm here," I said simply.

  The comfort of his warm body, real and here, was something I didn't think I would ever get tired of. On impulse, I asked, "Do we get married?"

  Ellery blushed scarlet and turned his head away, trying to hide from me, so embarrassed he could've combusted. He certainly couldn't answer. But that didn't matter; I'd already caught the knowledge, pure and simple in his head, like a shout of truth. Ye
s. He was absolutely convinced of it.

  I laughed aloud in sheer pleasure. "Oh, good." I gave him a little shake to show it was all right, and kissed him again. This time, he kissed me back — even though he couldn't stop blushing.

  Chapter eleven

  It turns out that being on the lam makes a couple of boyfriends pretty darn hungry. We ate a huge breakfast at the nearest diner, packing away food with a single-minded zeal that alarmed our waitress.

  As we ate, I had some deep thoughts.

  Boyfriends, husbands, meant to be? I trusted Ell, I liked Ell, and I knew he wasn't lying to me. He truly believed his visions. And I was glad they'd helped him through some rough days. I was glad I could be here for him now.

  But if he liked me only because of the visions, or if we got married only because of what he'd seen, it would feel . . . wrong. I didn't want to live a future dictated by visions. He could clearly interpret them wrong sometimes anyway. Even if he was absolutely right, I didn't want to mess up what he'd seen by rushing ahead, skipping vital steps, ending up living the wrong life.

  Still, it wouldn't have killed me to have had some clue about the future before. Maybe I'd have done better at not falling for all the wrong guys.

  He watched me closely, as if he was trying to see if anything had changed for me. I tried to show him it hadn't.

  "Right," I said as soon as we were out on the street, alone in the crowd. "I think we should call Kevin or Erin. We need to find out what's going on." I looked at him, waiting for his input.

  His brow furrowed as he thought. "I — I can't tell either way," he said, referring to his talent. "But personally, I think we need to call them. They must be so worried. People at the resort might be in trouble because of our disappearance. Oh." He pressed one of his slim hands against his mouth, trembling. "I've made so much trouble for everyone!"

  "You can't help that. If they can't take the good with the bad, they should never have hired a clair." I put an arm around him, trying to ease him out of his panic. "Come on. We'll find a pay phone — I think there are still a few around — and call right away. If there's trouble, we can always move on again. We can at least let them know we're all right."

  We found a phone and made our call. It was tense — I was sweating bullets, and Ellery's anxiety shot across my bow pretty hard. He was jittery and terrified, wanting to cling to me, but very much not wanting to be clingy. I nudged him with my hip, trying to calm him down a little and remind him I was here, we were at least facing things together.

  Would shit hit the fan now? Had there truly been a danger? If so, we hadn't seen anything about it in the news. Then again, we hadn't sought out a lot of news sources since we'd fled. Maybe it had scrolled across the bottom of some broadcast on the little ribbon, and we hadn't seen it.

  But what had the danger been? He'd said it was only for us. I trusted him; that meant it probably wasn't the whole resort getting blown up or something. But what if he was wrong? It was easy to believe his visions when I wasn't about to get a dressing down for it. Still, I tried to keep my sudden nerves and sense of doubt hidden from Ell. He needed me to believe in him. He'd be crushed if I didn't.

  The phone seemed to ring for a very long time. Even though I knew Kevin's number by heart, I was getting intensely nervous, wondering if I'd misdialed, or he'd changed numbers.

  It rang and rang, but there was no answer. We looked at each other, both afraid. "Try Erin," said Ell, gripping my side with anxious hands.

  For once, I found it annoying that he wanted to lean on me to feel safer. I wanted someone to make me feel safe, too. And it clearly couldn't be Kevin right now.

  What if he's in trouble, and it's because of us?

  Erin picked up on the third ring. "The Shardwell Group. This is Erin Comely." She didn't sound quite like herself, like she was distracted, or had a cold or something.

  "Erin? It's me, Pete. Ellery's here too. Can you tell us what's going on?"

  "Pete? Ellery?" The words were a startled explosion and for the first time, I realized she didn't have a cold; she was incredibly stressed and upset, even close to tears. "Are you all right? Are you safe?"

  "Uh — yes." Discomfort prickled up and down my spine, and I exchanged an alarmed look with Ellery.

  "Where have you two been? Everything's . . ." She took a gulping breath to contain herself, then said in a calmer voice, "There's been some kind of upset, and your disappearance is the catalyst. I'm sorry, but you need to contact the police right away and inform them you're alive. Kevin's been taken into custody. You're both missing — and they're saying he arranged for you to be kidnapped or killed."

  "What?" I stared at the phone, and then at Ellery. He was bug-eyed, frightened.

  He gripped my elbow. "What's she saying?"

  I'd forgotten he couldn't hear. When I repeated what she'd said, stumbling over the words, he reeled, looking like he might faint. All color had sheeted from his face, and he staggered, clinging to my arm to keep from falling.

  "What the hell is going on?" I asked him.

  "I — I don't—" He looked as though he was going to be sick.

  "Okay. Let's calm down. There's clearly something going on." My mind raced. "Someone wants to frame him," I said slowly. "Our disappearing wouldn't be cause for so much alarm otherwise — certainly not for someone being questioned about a supposed crime. I mean, we're not captives. If we sneak off for some private time during our vacation, it's nobody's business. It's certainly not time to tar and feather the boss."

  "Well, that's what they're doing," said Erin. "There's talk of dismissing him — or at least moving him to a less prominent position — for being questioned by the police, making the company look bad, and losing track of you two. Incompetence if not criminal activity, but it's an excuse to get rid of him, that's what." She sounded deeply indignant, and I couldn't blame her. She was at the least as committed to Kevin as I was, and they'd known one another longer.

  "That's bullshit. He's the most honest man—" I stopped. He was, indeed. And that could be enough to earn a target painted on his back in the corporate world.

  Erin took a breath, becoming brisk. "You're both all right? You left of your own accord and you're not in any danger?"

  "Ell got a vision that we'd be in terrible danger if we stayed, so we went away to lie low for a bit. But we can call the cops . . ."

  "I think you'll have to see them, so they can identify you for themselves. I think . . . maybe the ESRB will have to confirm your identities."

  "What? Can't they just look at us?"

  "Some . . ." She hesitated, clearly not wanting to say more. "The ESRB said they couldn't confirm your identity if they didn't see you in person. Like they think you could be . . . fake. Even enough to look like yourself but be someone else."

  My head spun. That was . . . too much. I didn't want to know that. I looked at Ell in alarm. There were actually people the ESRB knew about who could impersonate others convincingly — even to people who knew them? It would be some kind of mental power, but rather than reading thoughts, maybe it changed them, making someone think they looked like someone else. Or was it an actual shape-shifting ability, to alter how you looked, like in a creepy old sci-fi movie?

  Both possibilities were both pretty scary. I could understand why such abilities weren't broadcasted. You'd have every other mildly disturbed to deeply deranged person shooting someone they knew because they'd 'acted funny' and weren't real.

  "Why is the ESRB so worried? Because we disappeared, or because they're railroading Kev?"

  "I'm not sure, but let me read some numbers off to you. Then hang up. I'll make some calls myself, and you follow up with these people, assuring them you're alive, safe, and can meet up with them somewhere in a safe place — assuming Ellery doesn't have more insights to the contrary."

  To give her credit, she didn't say it mockingly. But Ellery, who was by this point nudged so close to me that we were cheek to cheek so he could catch the words over the pho
ne, flushed deeply.

  "We'll make the calls right now," I said, and hung up.

  The rest of the afternoon was a nightmare of questions, answers, alarms, red tape, bureaucracy, and logistics. But we got things worked out. The ESRB would take care of us, flying us to a safe house to stay until everything could be worked out so that we were for certain safe to return to our jobs. They would also, apparently, confirm our identities. I didn't know how I felt about that, but apparently it was important. I just wished it didn't freak me out so much.

  Would I know an imposter? I was pretty sure I would. But then again, maybe not. If the power meant altering someone else's perception, it might affect my talent just as well as it did eyesight and other ordinary senses. After all, what was empath talent but another sense? No wonder I was prone to mess up; other people only had to juggle five. I had an extra one crammed in there to figure out.

  When we got a minute to talk, I tried to talk Ellery down. He felt terribly guilty about Kevin.

  "Look," I told him. "Clearly someone planned this. Our disappearance was just what someone up the chain — someone not as honest as Kev — wanted, probably for some really unpleasant and corrupt reason. Someone doesn't want us or Kevin keeping them honest. If we hadn't disappeared, they'd have disappeared us. That's why we were in danger."

  He nodded like he really wanted to believe me. But he was still pale and jittery. I managed to eat something for lunch, just before the ESRB agents arrived, but Ell couldn't. He looked like he'd be sick if he tried.

  I was tired, cranky, and impatient. I didn't want to have to take care of him; I wanted us both to be okay, equal. But he felt it so heavily, that this was all his fault. He was close to the end of his rope.

  By the time we boarded the private plane and were flying to a safe house (our identities confirmed by sleek, unnervingly calm ESRB agents who barely flickered with emotions at all), he was so exhausted he fell asleep like a light that had been switched off. I watched him for a moment, feeling ugly inside. He looked so small and pathetic, so little against the world's evils, so scrawny compared to the burdens on his shoulders. Was I going to be tasked with protecting and comforting him for the rest of my life? Was this my assigned task?