“I love how that word association went.” Nick put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands. “You’re like this mad scientist or something.”
I opened my mouth in mock surprised, but our conversation was interrupted by raised voices from a nearby table.
“Are you listening to me?” a man said, the serrated cruelty in his words slicing into a woman sitting tensely in front of him. “I said, stop whining!”
Two small children, around five or six years old, cowered in their seats like they’d seen this too often before. Their facesdrawn tight with fear, and their eyes trained on the juice boxes in their hands.
Nick tense beside me, his hand tightening around his coffee mug. His jaw clenched, and a storm boiled beneath his surface. I watched him teeter on an edge that neither of us could afford.
“Nick,” I murmured softly, cautious. My hand reaching across the table to give his arm a small squeeze. “Let’s not do this here.”
He ignored me like I wasn’t there and practically flew out of the booth. Before I could stop him, he walked toward the table as if everything in his body compelled him to intervene.
I stood, but was too slow to stop him.
“Excuse me.” Nick’s voice was tight, restrained between gritted teeth, but the entire restaurant could feel the tension beneath his words. “Is everything alright here?”
The man—mid-forties, unremarkable except for the scowl plastered on his face—whipped his attention toward Nick. If annoyance had a look, it was etched into the man’s features.
“Who the hell are you?” the man sneered as he looked Nick up and down. “Mind your own goddamn business, buddy or you’re gonna get hurt.”
I quickly positioned myself beside Nick in a not so subtle suggestion that it wasn’t Nick who’d end up hurt. The man instinctively leaned back from my presence. I gently nudged his mind toward fear. Just enough that he’d think twice about whatever words piled up on his tongue.
“You’re making the children uncomfortable,” Nick said, the fire in his voice more controlled than I’d expected, but his hands were clenched tight at his sides. For anyone else, it might have seemed measured or, at best, righteous, but I knew better. I saw the tiny flicker of light in Nick’s irises. A shimmer so faint a non-angel would miss it. To me, it was a warning flare that his emotions were causing power to stir inside him.
The abusive man opened his mouth to retort, but his eyes darted between Nick and me. I didn’t say a word, but our presence sent a clear, unmistakable message: end this or else.
He sank back into his seat like a deflating balloon, grumbling something unintelligible under his breath. His shoulders slouched, his aggression diffusing as he kept glancing nervously between the two of us.
“You need to stop,” Nick said, quieter this time, but his voice rippling with authority that wasn’t entirely his, but would be one day. “No one should have to be this scared over breakfast.”
The woman looked grateful for the intervention, but still had a haunted look of fear. I knew from experience we hadn’t saved her. We’d only stopped the pain for a moment. It wasn’t enough, but it was the most we could do for her.
I guided Nick back to our table and we finish our meal in silence. The croissants we were both so excited to eat tasted like cardboard to me now. Nick’s expression suggested he had the same experience.
Finally, we threw out our trash, took our coffee, and headed for the exit. The family glanced our way when we walked past them. An older couple caught Nick’s arm before we made it to the door.
“You did the right thing, son,” the man said giving Nick an approving nod. “Good on you for standing up like that.”
“Yes,” the woman added. “You’re a good person for helping them.”
Nick offered them a small smile. “Thank you.”
Once outside, I took a slow breath and pulled Nick into a quiet alley. His breathing hadn’t quite steadied yet, and that steel-vise grip he sometimes got around his jaw hadn’t loosened.
“Are you okay?” I asked, searching his face.
“Yes,” he said too quickly. Nick ran a hand through his hair, and still looked distressed. “I couldn’t watch those kids and theirmom without saying something. It was like ...” His voice faltered, and I knew what he left unsaid.
“Like those kids were you.” I grabbed his hand between mine and felt the faint tremble rattle through him.
“Yeah.” Nick closed his eyes and nodded. “I was in that same position and watched helplessly as my mom shrank every time my dad raised his voice. I was powerless back then, but I’m not now.”
His pain gutted me, but what scared me was his burgeoning power. I felt the gentle but unmistakable thrum building inside him. For most angels, an emotional event triggered the first manifestation of their powers. Unlike young angels, Nick didn’t realize what had happened and didn’t release the energy.
“Hey,” I said, careful not to pull him too hard from his thoughts. I needed to defuse this gently. “Like those people said, you did the right thing back there. Standing up for others takes courage, but you need to be careful. This is a crazy world we live in. I know you want to do more, but sometimes what we do emotionally isn’t always the safest thing.”
The tension in his shoulders went away. “I just wish I could have helped them more.”
