Red in the Blue

Chapter 53

CW: strong sexual content, brief references to dissociation

No one ever seemed to know what was going on with Lowell or else no one would tell me. Where was Eric these days? Who's to say. What about Browne? Couldn't tell me. Was I still being stalked and photographed through the windows like some poor celebrity who'd just given birth to her first child and wanted to sit in the sun for the first time in days? It was anyone's guess. I didn't believe that James would lie to me, but I also didn't believe she was asking anyone for answers to my questions. She was following orders, and hers was not to reason why. I put in more work on Bowen, but he was lower in rank and had even less of a clue.

It was fine working from the packhouse. It really wasn't that bad. But I felt like I was holding my breath, waiting for something to happen. This wasn't permanent. We were in limbo. What was happening?

I kept myself busy. I sent James back around my house for more supplies and worked furiously on my art projects. I asked for pictures of my plants and gave her detailed watering instructions, which she agreed to pass on to the patrols that still regularly circled my house in case they could catch anyone trying to get to me. Eshe and I kept working hard. She wanted to visit a colleague in New York that she thought would be able to weigh in on the suspected Paulson manuscript, but she wasn't supposed to go anywhere. I video chatted with Liz and Veronica and then later in the week with my parents. I tentatively agreed to visit for Thanksgiving, but I was secretly very doubtful that would happen.

I started bouncing back faster in the mornings, shaking off the nightmares more quickly, developing routines. It was nice to live with someone, to have the option of being in the cafeteria surrounded by shifters first thing when I woke up. But nights were still hard. I pushed my workouts with Bowen later and later before just adding a second late-night workout for myself. I started lying around the lobby late into the night, where the lights were always on and shifters quietly came and went at all hours, though James preferred I stay in the room.

On a Tuesday that felt like a Thursday for some reason, Cade texted me late. We hadn't spoken since our last hook-up.

James will drive you if you want to come over

When did we talk about me coming over?

We're talking about it right now

I felt bristled and wanted to give him a hard time, but I also wanted to fuck him into oblivion, so I just said okay and got ready and texted James in the next room and met her in the living room.

"So you're like my chaperone now."

She was in shorts and a t-shirt, her hair stacked up in a bun, obviously in for the night, and I considered feeling guilty.

"Weren't chaperones supposed to prevent sex from happening?" she asked, locking the door behind us as we stepped out into the hall.

"I guess you're a bad one."

So maybe I did feel gross and guilty about the whole thing, but she seemed characteristically unbothered. It was late, and we didn't put any music on in the car, so it was quiet.

"This feels like when my mom used to pick me up from sleepovers because I got homesick," I mused at the passenger window.

James shot me a sly look as the light turned and we rounded the corner onto Cade's street.

"I guess that makes Cade home."

I ignored that.

"You don't have to like...stay. Right?"