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“A doctor,” he echoes, each syllable filled with bemusement. “No. He wasn’t important enough to bother.”
My stomach fills with acid. “He was just lucky enough to make it through the reaction then?”
Those blue eyes return. They’re full of one emotion now—anger. “Lucky?”
“Not lucky that it happened, but yes, lucky that he survived without help.”
“He had help,” the young man says defensively. As much as I dislike his anger toward me, I have to admit that I like this version of him a hell of a lot better than the scared one. “We helped him. We’re a family. We always help each other.”
Realizing I’ve definitely crossed a line, I backpedal. “Then he was very lucky he had you.”
When he just looks away, jaw working, I add, “We’ll get him an EpiPen. There’s one in each med kit around the house, but he should have one on him as well.”
The young man completely softens, his eyes nothing but tired this time when he looks back at me. “R-really?”
“Of course. We can get you one too, if it’ll make you feel better to have one nearby for him.”
His blue eyes shimmer, tears welling in them. “Really?” he asks again, his voice catching.
“Really,” I promise him. “This place is meant to help you guys heal. It’s meant to keep you safe. It’s meant to provide you all with the care and support you need. I’m meant to provide you all with the care and support you need. Anything like that? All you have to do is ask.”
“That’s scary,” he admits in a whisper.
“I know. But it’s true. You may not trust me yet, but you’ll see. I’m going to make sure you’re all taken care of.” My throat feels a little tight when I add, “I’m going to make sure you’re taken care of.”
He blushes, dipping his chin a little. His voice is quiet again, a little uncertain, when he asks, “You’re Carter’s brother, right?”
“Yes. Maison.” I rack my brain for the name Travis had used for him at the party. “You’re… Nolan, right?”
“Yeah. I guess.” He looks away, eyes surveying the mess on the floor. “Feels weird to be Nolan, though.”
“I can’t even imagine. It supposedly gets easier. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”
He looks at me again. I don’t know why, but it feels like a prize somehow. Like something he doesn’t give to many people. It’s a little terrifying to have bestowed on me. I don’t want to ruin it. I ruin everything.
“Is this the only… whatever this is, that you’ve done?” he asks.
“Yeah. I’ve been the team commander for this operation for just under a decade. But I’ve spoken with other commanders whose operations ended before mine and they told me what to expect. Well, to a point, at least. Everyone handles things differently.”
“What’d they tell you?”
I hesitate, realizing this is probably a dangerous line of conversation, but I won’t lie to him. “To expect a lot of fear. A lot of hiding. To not be hurt if a survivor cries or runs away or screams at me. Their advice was to just give everyone their space, but be here if they need anything.”
Nolan tilts his head a little, eyes calculating. “Is that why you aren’t with Carter right now?”
My stomach sours. No. I’m not with Carter because he doesn’t want to be with me.
I look away from him, my body suddenly restless. I press a hand to my chest with the hope of relieving the ache there, but the movement sends a zap of pain through me instead. It’s so unexpected and violent that I don’t manage to suppress the sharp hiss that escapes.
He quickly sits up, alert now. His eyes rake over my body as if seeing it for the first time. “You’re hurt.”
If it was anyone else, I’d say something sarcastic like no shit, but I don’t want to be mean to him. I don’t want anyone to ever be mean to him. “I’ll be okay. What about you? Are you hurting anywhere?”
He shakes his head, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion again. I explained that I want him safe and taken care of, but he clearly doesn’t understand that yet. Doesn’t trust it. Trust me.
That’s fine. I’ll wait.
“I should clean this up,” he whispers, eyes back on the mess between us. “I’m sorry, sir.”
