Forget Me Not

by Stacey Nash

  “Yes. I heard doors open and close and the sound of agents searching, or so I guessed. I think the light was some sort of alarm. They must have found those guards we beat up and knew someone helped Al and Bertie escape.” She sits back on her haunches, appraising my almost-exposed injury. “I wasn’t hanging around with only myself to defend the three of us, but if I’d known who was waiting in the basement back home… I may have risked the agents.” She shoots me a dirty look. Beau.

  Jax lets out a booming laugh and hands her a small purple bowl with steam rising above it in fingered wisps. She’s talking nonsense—nothing at the farm could have possibly been worse than agents.

  Lilly turns her glare on Jax. “You ought to laugh, Jax Belfry. Just wait till you get home.”

  Jax’s laugh trails off, and I can’t stop the smile creeping onto my lips.

  She dips the cream cloth into the bowl and dabs it onto the bandage fused to my leg with dried blood. It stings, but the warmth of the cloth seeping through the mess soothes my pain.

  Jax slides back into the chair. “What punishment did you cop—a grounding? Extra chores?” He slaps the arm of the chair. “I know. I bet he confiscated your town privileges.”

  She rewards him with a massive pout and slams the wet cloth against my wound. I suck air in through my teeth and pull away, swatting Will’s hand from my forehead. “Argh.”

  “Sorry.” She drops the once clean cloth into the deep bowl’s murky pink water.

  Will’s mouth turns up in a smile which doesn’t quite reach his haunted eyes, and his hands fall into his lap.

  Lilly spins around to face Jax. “He’d been sitting there for hours waiting for you to port back, so I wouldn’t laugh too hard if I were you.” Her eyes glow.

  “Whatever.” He shrugs.

  She peels the bandage back, and the air hitting the wound stings, but I keep my eyes on Lilly so I’m not tempted to look at the open cut. I’ve always been terrible with this kind of thing. I had to turn my head when the nurse gave immunization shots because the first time I didn’t, I passed out. “How’d you get back out again?” I ask to distract myself.

  “I need clean water.” She hands the bowl to Will. “I used my feminine charms to get the spare set of port bands out of Marcus.” She waves her hands in the air with a huge grin, showing off the skin-toned port bands against her slender wrists.

  “I didn’t know we owned a second set,” Jax says.

  Will hands the purple bowl to Lilly. The water is once again clear, and steam rises from it like a hot cup of tea. Jax swings his long legs around and rests his now bootless feet on the table.

  “He said he’s been working on them for a while. Thankfully Dad didn’t know they were ready.” She arches her brows, crooks her head, and her eyes radiate satisfaction.

  Will settles back onto the ground without a word.

  “Marcus was rostered to guard the tech alarm for the next stint,” Lilly continues. “So I snuck down to the basement. Hopefully he’s still covering for me.”

  “That man really has no idea what goes on under his own roof,” Jax says.

  Lilly dabs at the wound with a now-warm cloth, looking at it between dabs. When it finally comes away clean, she sets it aside and pulls an antiseptic wipe out of the first aid box. She tears it opened with her teeth and swipes it over the wound. The coolness makes me jump after the warmth of the cloth. The thought of Beau’s anger and the memory of him appearing right as we left makes me chuckle. She reaches above me and pulls down a hand-knitted blanket. Thick lines of red, green, yellow, blue and black all fit together in a zigzag pattern.

  “You’re going to have to take off your jeans.”

  “Nice.” Jax wriggles his eyebrows.

  “Get out!” Lilly throws a cushion at his face. He sweeps his hand up and catches it from the air, snickering as he heads toward the kitchen to join Will, who left the moment she mentioned removing clothing.

  I grit my teeth against the pain of my jeans scraping over the wound and pulling at the open flesh. Softer fabric would have been so much kinder. A jostle of the blanket positions it over my middle, covering my underwear. The wool prickles on the bare skin of my legs, but it’s so snug and warm I pull it up under my chin like a small child with a blankie.

  “What have they got in here?” Lilly rummages through the box.

  “Is it safe to come back?” Will says from the kitchen.

  “Yep.”

  Both boys walk in and settle back into their recently vacated positions. Jax tosses a plastic packet onto the low lying table, sending it sliding across to a crinkling halt just before the edge. My hollow stomach lets out a loud grumble. I’m so hungry. I snatch at the packet. “Yum, chocolate cookies.”

  “Awesome, this is perfect.” Lilly pulls out a small glass vial filled with violet-colored liquid. She holds it up to the light between her finger and thumb. “This will take the pain away.”

  “What is it?” I ask.

  She clamps her teeth around the cork stopper and pulls it out. “An elixir of lurve. It will fix all of your boy troubles,” she says with a wicked wink.

  “Seriously, Lilly.” Jax shoves a cookie in his mouth and saunters into the kitchen like he’s above the joke. A small smile touches my lips. Huh, he’s got nothing smart to say?

  “Told you.” Her gaze follows him out of the room, then meets mine and undoes us both. We erupt into giggles.

  “It’s a Collective rejuvenation potion. It’ll numb the area and speed up the healing process if applied directly to your wound.” She waves the vial under my nose.

  My head spins like I’ve stood up too fast. It’s a strong, unfamiliar odor, sharp like chemicals but mixed with the sweetness of honey. The harsh vapors make my eyes water. I pull away from the assault on my sense of smell. “Ew.”

  Lilly places a cotton ball over the end of the vial, turning it upside down, and the cotton turns as violet as the liquid. She rubs it over my thigh. A soft tingle, like tiny drops of water in a hot shower, takes the place of my pain before fading to nothing, leaving that part of my leg numb.

  Muscles I didn’t even realize were tense let go and relax, letting me melt into the couch. The unmistakable smell of bread toasting wafts through the air, and my tummy grumbles in complaint despite the lingering taste of chocolate cookie. Will’s hand continues to move across my head, stroking my hair. I push myself up to face him. “What happened to you?”

  The strokes stop. He drops his gaze, and his head shakes. “I’m so sorry,” he says, keeping his face turned down. “I stunned the agent with a shock right to his chest. It threw him back into the wall.” He raises his eyes to meet mine, and they’re wide with excitement, but fall quickly with no sign of his smile. “He slumped to the ground, so I looked around to see if Jax needed help.”

  A snort comes from the kitchen. Will ignores Jax and continues to talk. “He was fighting like a crazy man. You know Wolverine’s berserk.”

  “What?” Lilly scrunches up her face.

  “It’s a video game. Anyway, it was like he was consumed in a fearless rage, and I thought if I got in there, well, he’d probably take me out by accident. It was exactly like X-men versus Street Fighter.”

  “I’m flattered you think I’m awesome.” Jax walks into the room with a toast-filled plate and cans of spaghetti tucked under his arm. Smirking at Will, he sets them down on the table.

  “What?” Will says, playing dumb, his face deadpan.

  Jax winks at me, and I wonder why Will bothers. Replying only encourages Jax’s private jokes. Private in that they’re just for him. He’s the only one who ever laughs.

  Will pauses in his story while he, Jax, and I grab food and scarf like we’ve never eaten. Lip twitching, brows arched, Lilly stares at us devouring the toast. She must have eaten when she went home, but for me, it’s been forever. She shoves things back into the first aid kit and pulls the zipper closed.

  Jax looks over my legs, which are bare to the wound high on
my thigh, with a slow, combing gaze. His shining eyes meet mine, and he brings his hand to his mouth, stroking his bottom lip. Our eyes locked, his lips turn up in a growing smile which warms his whole face.

  “You look better. There’s more color in your cheeks,” Will says.

  I hold Jax’s gaze.

  Will clears his throat. “Mae, are you listening?”

  Jax’s smile morphs from warm to cheeky. A smile, the twin to his, sneaks onto my lips.

  “Mae!”

  Breaking eye contact almost physically tugs as my gaze moves to Will. His eyes bore into me, and my head falls, my gaze dropping to the floor. A hot flush darts up my neck, heating my chest, face, and ears to near boiling.

  “While I was watching them fight like guys in a bar brawl, something hit me from behind. Hurt like hell. I turned around, and an agent at the far end of the hall shot at me with a gun.” Will stuffs toast into his mouth and swallows in one gulp. “Lucky for me, these suits are gold.”

  “Yeah?”

  He reaches for a can of spaghetti and shoves his thick finger through the ring pull. “They just bounced right off. I was totally hyped, so I ran down the hall and charged at him. Seconds later, everything went red, like looking at the world through tinted glasses. I stunned him with the mace and it threw him back around the corner into a horde of them. They scared the life out of me.”

  “I bet,” Jax says.

  Will pulls the metal lid of the can back, curling it open, either ignoring or not noticing Jax’s comment. “I turned and high-tailed it out of there. It wasn’t long after I found a dark staircase like the one we took down to the dungeon. I hid in it until they’d all passed. When I got back to the hall, Jax was gone, and I couldn’t see either of you. You weren’t even inside the room.”

  He stops to draw a big breath. Spots of color flush his cheeks, adding a pink highlight to his sun-kissed complexion. I raise my eyes to his, but he stares at the tin of spaghetti, digging a fork into it. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m sorry I left you.”

  “It’s not your fault, Will. Fights like that are totally unpredictable. Besides, I can look after myself.” I place my hand on his arm, but his face still twists in a pained stare.

  “When I finally managed to sneak out of the building,” he continues, “I went straight to the meeting place in the park, and that’s where I found Lilly trying to decipher your message.”

  “Yeah, I thought it said Crazy Asshat,” Lilly says.

  Jax bursts into loud chuckling laughter, and I shoot him a glare.

  Will reaches for the last slice of toast. “I knew right away what it meant, so we came here.”

  “He went crazy when you weren’t here,” Lilly adds. “He couldn’t sit still. He kept looking over the balcony every few minutes, until I reminded him you didn’t have transport, and then he finally relaxed.”

  “Yeah, thanks, we really enjoyed the train ride.” Sarcasm drips off Jax’s words.

  Neither Will nor Lilly answer him. Maybe Will’s learning. I glance his way, and his fingers tug a rogue strand of hair, his eyes glazed, seemingly looking at nothing.

  “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m exhausted. It must be after midnight.” Lilly yawns. “Dibs on the bed.” She runs through a small door by the kitchen, and there’s a soft thwoosh as she jumps on the bed.

  “I need a shower,” I say. Despite the cold air, I’m covered in a layer of dried sweat, and the awful smoke and food smell of the subway clings to my hair.

  Jax opens his mouth to speak, but snaps it shut when Lilly pokes her head out of the bedroom and shoots him a glare. I couldn’t be bothered figuring it out. I’m sure when I wake up I’ll understand their exchanged look, but right now I’m too tired to think straight.

  I walk into the small bedroom. It smells like my Nan’s house used to: of lavender, moth balls, and old people. There’s also a lingering scent of abandonment, like dust and stale air. I glance around, shaking my head. The small apartment’s so empty, yet there’s so much clutter in the store below. I always imagined Al’s home would be the same jumbled mess of junk. A large bed hogs all the space in the tiny room, extending almost to the walls. It too is covered in layers of hand-knitted blankets of different shades of purple squares all sewn together. Bertie must knit nonstop. A chest of drawers is squeezed between the bed and the door, and small crystal containers filled with jewelry decorate its top.

  I glance around looking for the bathroom. Despite my close relationship with Al, Dad and I never really came upstairs. A door on the far side of the room catches my eye, and on inspection it leads into a small bathroom. Perfect. I go in and take a long, hot shower.

  I emerge from the bathroom wearing just my shirt and a thick purple towel wrapped around my waist. Carrying the blanket from the couch in my hand, I run my fingers through my damp hair. My newfound warmth feels so pleasant after being cold for so long.

  Silence echoes through the apartment in an eerie way. I glance into the living room, suddenly nervous Will’s not actually here, not actually safe, but his legs poke out from the end of the couch, and Jax lies on a mound of blankets on the floor, between the back of the couch and the bedroom. I close my eyes and take a deep, calming breath. Silly imagination running away in insane thoughts. Jax’s position means he must have drawn the short straw. I can’t imagine him volunteering to sleep in the most uncomfortable spot.

  “Better?” Lilly’s voice jolts my gaze to her. She sits cross-legged on the bed in a pink, frilly singlet, the covers pulled up to form a tent between her knees. A white handkerchief in her hand glides over her dagger. Around and over again, polishing the blade. Bedtime and weapons? In any other situation I’d find this amusing. It’s the stuff of bad action movies. She pats the slim pillow beside her, indicating I should sit.

  “Just a minute.”

  My leg feels fantastic, like I could jump up and down without a hint of pain. I don’t. Instead, I tiptoe out to the couch to grab my jeans.

  Will’s flat on his back with his long legs dangling over the armrest of the old couch, his arm hanging over the edge, and his hand brushing the carpeted floor. I lower the blanket in my hands, placing it over him. Eyes closed, face smooth, he looks content.

  He’s too hard on himself; he did really well today. Relief he was here makes me want to hug him all over again. He could have been lost today, but thankfully he wasn’t. Settling for a mere touch, I brush his cheek with my thumb and tuck the blanket in around him. I grab my folded jeans from the low table and head back toward the bedroom.

  My gaze is drawn to Jax on the way past him. I pause. He lays curled up on his side like a small child. His face is smooth, almost peaceful, and a lock of hair has fallen across his closed eyes. The self-confidence which oozes out of him when he’s awake has gone. He looks so young and innocent and hot. I ache to reach out and push his hair back out of his face, run my fingers along his jaw, over his full lips. Instead, I keep my hands pinned to my sides, warm against the soft towel. He wouldn’t want to be touched. The innocence of his sleeping expression makes me think of him as a child, dumped at the resistance farm. I don’t understand how anyone could abandon a child. For safety, yeah, maybe… but did they intend to come back for him? It’s a safe house, so perhaps. Pulling my gaze away from him, I look to Lilly, who watches me from her position on the bed. I walk over to her and pull my jeans on.

  “Why did his parents leave him at the farm?”

  She shuffles her legs and shifts her weight, looking uncomfortable while I lower myself onto the edge of the bed.

  “I’ve asked him a few times, but he avoids answering,” I say.

  “It’s not really my story to tell.” She drops her gaze to the dagger spinning over and around her fingers. “It’s Jax. He doesn’t talk feelings, and that story is full of them.”

  My eyes slide closed, and a sigh winds through my nose. Sympathy weighs me to the bed. “Tell me.” I turn back to him, twisting my fingers into the blanket. It�
�s easy to picture him a few years ago. My heart almost tears at the sad image: a little boy, ruffled chestnut hair, big, lonely green eyes, and a small chiseled face looking so young and alone.

  “I’m guessing he told you he was dumped or abandoned?” she asks, her voice soft and full of emotion.

  “Um, yeah.”

  There’s a long pause, and I almost think she’s not going to tell me.

  “That’s not entirely right. He uses the dumped story as a cover. It’s less painful than the truth.” She takes a deep breath and continues. “Six years ago, Dad was on scanner duty. When the alarm went off, he ported to the location that triggered it—an old, abandoned house by a lake. He found a young boy there wrestling with a Collective agent. The kid was fighting like a rabid dog. There was a woman too. She was lying on the ground with her throat slit. And another child, the poor little soul had been murdered. The woman’s… her… well, her arm was draped over the baby like she’d died protecting it.” She pauses, and both of our gazes linger on Jax.

  The haunted look in his eyes when I asked him about his past is fresh in my memory. It makes me ache with longing to curl up beside him and protect him from all the pain of his past. The soft clatter of Lilly’s now-gleaming dagger falling on an antique bedside table draws my attention back to her. She picks up another blade and rubs the handkerchief over it. When she raises her eyes to mine, a sad smile curls her mouth.

  “Dad defeated the agent and brought Jax back to the farmhouse. Having a kid my age around was exciting. For months I just wanted to make friends with him, but he barely spoke. I never gave up, though; guess I was persistent even back then. Anyway, when he finally did speak, it was only to talk weapons. He wanted to train all the time. I was disappointed, but starved for friendship, so I listened and even took an interest in learning how to use them. He threw himself into the training. He was only eleven, but he impressed everyone with how well he fought. It took years, but eventually we became friends rather than just sparring partners. Sometimes it still feels one-sided, though, because he keeps so much to himself.”