He ran toward the huts, the woman behind him, an earthquake in his soul. “When I got there...” His throat closed, the memory of the devastation choking him. Most structures were damaged, many destroyed. Some were buried.
The space inside him, where his thoughts lived, had been suddenly empty and blank.
Micah navigated around the rocks, trying to orientate himself. “It was hard to tell where I was in the village. Nothing looked the same.”
There were wailing and cries for help, but he couldn’t see anything through the dust. Some villagers had survived, and that gave him hope as he crawled over boulders and rubble, threw them out of the way looking for his people.
“I’d pulled several from the rubble, some alive, some not, before I thought of Tokoni.”
His powers manifested the day before, on his fourteenth birthday, and Micah had drained him. The boy had still been sleeping off the effects when Micah left the village that morning.
Please let Tokoni be safe.
The Chief’s hut, it should have been this way. He turned in that direction, checking under debris as he went for people.
Please let him be in the coconut grove, or out tending the animals. Please let him be netting fish, or swimming in the cove. Please let him be anywhere but in his hut.
When he got close, it was like the rocks seemed to suck at his bare feet, to stop him from seeing what he was about to see. Somehow, he knew Tokoni was in trouble.
And he was right.
“There he lay under on a pile of rocks; pale, gray. Great dark bruises blooming over his body. I lifted the rocks off of him and took him in my arms.” He’d cradled the limp boy among the rubble and tried to fix his bones, to manipulate the minerals to fuse them back together. And he could, for a while. Until it was clear it would make no difference.
There were more than bones broken inside him, and he could do nothing about those softer things that bled.
Micah looked further down into the village, half of it buried under tons of rock and dirt.
“I needed to go help them, to move the stones and look for survivors, see who I could help. But I couldn’t leave Tokoni alone while he still drew breath.” He’d settled back against a rock, the boy in his arms, and began to sing. “I sang to him. It was all I could do to let him know that he was not alone as he passed into the afterlife.” But he hadn’t had a suitable song, a song for the feeling that had sat upon his heart with the weight of a mountain.
Voice and spirit raw, he sang until he felt Tokoni’s spirit depart, his life force drain. His last breath was like a spear through Micah’s chest. The ground under him shifted, shook, with his grief.
Micah stood with Tokoni's body in his arms, and then used his powers to part the soil. He stepped down into the hole and laid the boy gently on the softest soil. Crossing Tokoni's arms over his chest, Micah held them both for a second while everything in his field of vision blurred.
He staggered to his feet, heart heavy, and then struggled to step up onto the surface. He turned toward the rest of the village and made his way down to it. He kept his eyes ahead even as he used his powers behind him, returning the dirt to the hole he had made, unable to watch Tokoni being buried in his grave.
Jade put her hand over his, bringing him back to the present, and he turned his over to grip hers for strength. The memory, as distant as it was, still tore at him.
“I’m sorry.” Jade laid her other hand on his as well. “I know that was really tough. Losing someone you care about always is.”
She understood, and yet she didn’t.
“I lost many people that day. Many since then.” So many. Tokoni was the face of all the losses, just because he’d been closest to him, but he was certain he could remember each one if he tried. Jade turned and he felt her gaze, but he couldn’t meet her eyes.
Later, he would find out that the enemy attacked the Chieftain, caused him to self-destruct and destroy his own island, kill his own people. His own son. It was probably best he died rather than face being responsible for that.
Micah, on the other hand... had to live with his guilt.
“Maybe if I’d been there, I could have saved them. Could have saved him.”
Instead, he’d considered his job done, his mission complete, and had been unwinding with a willing woman.
Jade put her arm around his shoulder. “You couldn’t be there every moment,” she said, voice thick, “It’s not your fault.”
Oh, but it was. He was Elemental, he was Warrior. He was strength and protection for human Erratics.
And he’d failed at all of it.
Micah closed his eyes and shook his head, guilt crushing him. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t watch Tokoni day and night, it only mattered that he wasn’t watching him better at that precise moment. It only mattered that his mishandling of his duties resulted in the boy’s death. Micah had drained him and then abandoned him. Maybe the loss of the village wasn’t entirely his fault, but Tokoni’s death was.
“Did you talk to anyone after that? Maybe that would help.”
Micah shook his head. “When I got back to my then-commander, I tried... But he only wanted mission-relevant details, nothing else.” He hadn’t wanted to know how it felt to lose the boy, to lose the mortals he’d spent so much time with. Who he’d lived among since he’d come to Earth. His tribe. His family.
His commander had told him to take a breath and move on, which it seemed like all the other Warriors did much more easily than him, at least until recently.
Shortly after, a new commander needed Warriors, and he was reassigned to Walker. He’d left behind his island and his people and Tokoni, forever.
But they had not left him. They showed up in his dreams, rare as they were, and randomly in his thoughts.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, eyes shiny in the firelight, “about all of it.”
He was sorry, too.
Jade leaned against him, head on his biceps, her hand still in his. It was such a small gesture, but abruptly he felt his own eyes burning, his chest tightening. She couldn’t know what her understanding and comfort meant to him. And he couldn’t tell her, didn’t have the words, but that hidden, raw part of him he’d kept inside felt just a little lighter. The deaths of his people had been painful, but his life among them hadn’t been, and it helped to remember those times.
Suddenly, Tokoni and the others felt closer, more real, than they had in decades. So too, did the peace that had long eluded him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
JADE LISTENED TO MICAH’S story, her heart breaking for him. He’d lost so much, so many people. It was no wonder, really, that he’d withdrawn so far inside himself. Pain could make a person do that.
And he’d never learned to get past it.
She’d thought she learned from the sting of her ex’s betrayal... Don’t trust men and don’t trust mining partners. Don’t trust anyone with what was important to her, what could hurt her. But maybe she was wrong, maybe that wasn’t what she was supposed to learn.
Thinking about it without all the high emotions blinding her, it was a little bit clearer that she’d been pushing Tony away before he left her. He didn’t understand her grief over losing her father, the relentless grief and sorrow from losing her mother in phases. He still had both of his parents, and she’d lost both of hers. He’d repeatedly said he didn’t know what to do for her, even asked her how he could help, at first. But she’d shut him out. Not intentionally, but she’d resented that he didn’t understand her pain, why she couldn’t just move on.
Maybe she was supposed to share the pain.
She’d shared it with Micah, and he’d shared his with her. They were inexorably bound together by firelight and the shared pain of losing loved ones.
Micah had loved that boy, loved those people. She saw it on his face, heard it in his words. And as bad as losing her parents was—and would be—it was still a few degrees of agony off of losing an entire family, an entire community in
a natural disaster. And then to have no emotional support? For how long?
She studied his unsmiling, thoughtful face again. How long had Micah been mourning alone?
A long time. Too long.
Jade scooted closer until their sides were touching and picked up his large hand in both of hers. Neither spoke, but she stroked her thumb across his hand as they both stared into the fire. She didn't want to leave his side, for his sake and for hers, the two of them raw and bereft.
But at least neither of them were alone, now.
She sat there in silence, trying to transmit healing and comfort through their hands into him. And taking a little bit for herself.
Micah singing to her had been a balm, shopping a welcome distraction. listening to Micah’s pain had put hers into better perspective, but her visit with her mom still hurt. The kind of hurt that would sting for years to come.
And it would only get worse, wouldn’t it?
It was a sign of the disease progressing. And the guilt she had for leaving, for just walking out the door without telling her mother goodbye... even if her mom didn’t understand she had, it was a sign of Jade pulling away.
She’d been bracing for this for at least a year now. Bracing for the moment she realized she’d really and truly lost her mother. She’d thought it would be at her funeral, but now it was obvious her mother would be long gone before that came.
And what kind of monster did that make Jade? For emotionally pulling away from her just because she didn’t want to hurt?
What if her mom did realize it, in her lucid moments? How painful that would be for her on top of everything else? To realize her only remaining family was pulling away while she fought her illness alone.
God.
Jade held her head up with her elbows on her knees and her fingers tightly in her hair, a prayer she couldn’t put words to going up with the sparks into the dark sky above.
“How do you be happy if you know things will likely end badly?”
She was still trying to think of a good answer to his question when Micah turned and asked her another.
“If you knew things would end up with your parents the way they have, would cause you so much pain, would you change it?”
“Yes, I would change it.” Though her answer was instant, her throat then closed and she could barely breathe. “I would have loved them more.”
He tipped his head, and she could tell he didn’t really understand.
She took a deep breath to make it easier to talk. “I would have loved them more because I would have known how limited my time with them would be. Losing them... sucks—” understatement of her life, “—but the time I had with them is worth the pain. I’m lucky to have a family I miss so much.” Even if some days she felt like the sorrow would crush her. “Maybe lucky isn’t the word,” Jade continued, the damn tears welling up again. “Blessed, maybe. I was blessed to have them as my family.” And apparently, blessed and lucky weren’t always the same thing. Blessed meant she had wonderful, loving parents.
Lucky would have been getting to keep them for longer than she had.
Jade wiped her wet face with her sleeve, trying to keep the pain and tears inside.
“So if you knew loving someone would hurt you, you would do it anyway.”
She wrestled with that question for a minute because she couldn’t give him a simple answer. For her parents, yes, but in general?
If she’d known her ex would betray her so spectacularly, would she have stayed with him, for the good times that came before?
Hell no.
“I guess... you have to take the risk that some of them are worth trusting with your emotions,” Jade answered, wiping her eyes and nose. Micah was seeking some kind of answer to the loss of his people, and she was trying hard to help him find it. Especially since she was the first person he’d talked to about it since it happened. She was no therapist, but she couldn’t leave him looking for answers alone.
“As a human, how do you know which people are worth trusting and which aren’t?”
“Asking all the easy questions tonight, aren’t you?” She smiled at him and then sighed. Something about the way he worded it was odd, but the answer felt more important than the question.
“You don’t. You don’t know. You can usually trust people who really care about you in return, but there are no guarantees.” If there were, Tony wouldn’t have chosen minerals over her. “You take the chance, take a risk, and then you hope you didn’t choose the wrong person. And if you end up hurt, you hope it doesn’t keep you from sharing your heart when the right one comes along.”
Micah nodded, that deep pinch behind his brows. He was staring off into space, arms crossed, the fire highlighting all those strong muscles that hid such a tender heart.
Jade looked away, a strange feeling inside her. What she’d said seemed to be echoing around the campsite. The trees, the air, the ground, repeating back her own words.
You hope it doesn’t keep you from sharing your heart when the right one comes along.
With a sudden burst of anger, Jade popped to her feet and walked to the edge of the firelight to look out over the moonlit valley.
Son of a bitch.
That was exactly what her ex had done to her. He’d made her afraid to trust, afraid to share. Afraid to risk her heart again. Afraid to love.
So much so that she’d backed away from her friends and never bothered to make new ones. Losing her parents might’ve started the job, but he’d finished it. She’d been struggling with her mother’s illness, her care, all alone, with no one by her side. Because of his betrayal.
Hands fisted, Jade turned back to the fire. Micah was out of his introspection, watching her, forearms on his knees.
“You okay?” His deep voice carried his concern for her.
Jade took a deep breath and relaxed her hands. “Yes. I’m fine.”
He nodded and didn’t press her further. He reached down into his pack and grabbed one of his bars, peeled the wrapper back and started eating it, gaze again on the flames.
You hope it doesn’t keep you from sharing your heart with the right person.
Jade drifted back to her log and sat down by Micah again. They both looked at the fire in silence.
Was Micah the right person?
The question alone made her heart pound.
There was no way to know for sure. There was only hope, and trust. Maybe he wasn’t ‘the one’, but her heart said he’d never hurt her on purpose. He was the epitome of the gentle giant. He cared about her, cared about the things she valued.
What if he was the one by some chance? Would she let her ridiculous rule of never mixing business and pleasure, put into place because of her bastard ex, keep her from Micah? Keep her from possible happiness? Would she let Tony steal that from her, too?
She’d have to think about that one, hard. Because just the thought of taking the risk with Micah was as scary as standing on an unstable cliff. And as exciting as being the first person to see millennia-old gemstones from the depths of the earth.
She risked life and limb for the chance to do that last one. Could she risk her heart again for a chance at happiness? At not being lonely anymore? There really was only one answer.
She already was.
MICAH WATCHED JADE pace around the fire, shoulders tense and fists clenched. He hadn’t meant to upset her with his questions, but seemed to have somehow. It wasn’t him, he knew, but rather some ghost in her past.
He was wrestling with ghosts, too.
To care too much meant to suffer too much. He didn’t want to care, wasn’t prepared for it. Wasn’t prepared for what he would feel when those people he cared about were ripped away, whether it was by war or nature, or simply by time. The only way to hurt less was to care less. But that was something he couldn’t control, he cared regardless.
So he kept to himself as much as possible.
Walker was the only one Micah had really talked to in years. Makin
g reports to him, some of which were long and complicated, were the only real conversations they’d had despite Walker’s best efforts.
And he was so lonely.
He stayed away from base a lot because seeing the other Warriors with their families gutted him. He wanted that for himself so bad. But it also reminded him of what he’d lost, reminded him what he could lose again.
He wanted to sit around the table at dinnertime and be a part of the group, of the conversation. He wanted to pull Jade close, tell her his secrets, let her into his world, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Why?
It was all the ghosts.
Look at Jade, so hurt and lost on the inside, driven to mine crystals out of the earth that could not bring either parent back.
But all of that pain, and yet she said she would have loved them more. Knowing she would have hurt more when losing them.
Again, why?
Levi and Brooke, and Ajax, and Emory, and Jackson... They all seemed so happy together, so in love.
What would happen to any of them if they were to lose the other?
Levi would self-destruct from pain. He’d been on the verge of that before, but somehow being with Brooke helped him control it. And Ajax? Everyone had seen what a bitter, unhappy person he’d been without Emory. Were he to lose her and Jackson, Ajax would no doubt be ten times worse.
Why risk it?
A vision of Levi and Brooke walking down the hallway slowly, fingers entwined, flashed across his mind. It was a scene he’d witnessed many times since she’d come to the base.
On the heels of that memory came another. Hard-ass Ajax snuggling the baby in his arms, smiling at Emory over his head.
Could love be so great that it was worth the risk of the pain?
Micah then thought of Walker, the painting placed with such care on his wall. If Micah asked Walker if he thought it was worth it, would he say yes?
Maybe he would ask him.
For now, there was Jade; gnawing on her lip as she stared into the flames silently, the way he had been before. There was no way to know if caring was worth the risk.
Crush (Elemental Hearts, #3) Page 12