"And I didn't flinch."
Another silence. Longer this time.
"You didn't flinch," Adler repeated.
"She smelled like vanilla. And my brain just… filed her as safe. Without my permission. Without any of the usual protocols. She just went straight into the category of people who can touch me, and there are four people in that category and they're all blood relatives."
"And now there are five," he said, almost gently, testing the weight of it.
"I didn't say that." Too quickly. Like the words could be taken back if I said them fast enough.
"You didn't have to." I could hear him writing. "Jace, this is significant. You understand that? What you're describing is your nervous system making an exception. That doesn't happen by accident."
"It happened by accident. She fell on me in a farmers market."
"You know what I mean."
I did know. But I didn't want to.
I walked to the window. Looked out at nothing.
"I want to paint her," I said.
The words came out before I could stop them.
"I haven't painted in two years. Haven't wanted to. But I keep seeing her expressions and thinking about how they'd look on canvas." My hand tightened on the phone. "Her face when she's upset. How she looked in the elevator when the lights came back on. The orchid pressed against her chest when I told her to get out."
I paused.
"I want to paint her hands."
Adler was quiet for a beat. "When was the last time you felt inspired to create something?"
"Before the last episode. Before I stopped painting entirely."
"And now?"
"Now I can't stop thinking about the light on her collarbone."
"I'd like you to sit with that," Adler said. "Don't act on it yet. Don't push it away either. Just notice it. If an impulse arrives that isn't rooted in fear, follow it. See what happens and if the revulsion comes. We'll talk on Thursday."
I hung up and sat there thinking about everything that had been happening. The city pulsed below. The cube was solved inmy lap and my hands wanted a brush and I didn’t know what to do with any of it.
The intercom buzzed at the front desk.
"Mr. Hunter, your brother is here."
"Tell him I’m not in."
"He says he can see your lights on from outside, sir."
Of course he could.
Miles appeared at my door in clean shoes, which he held up for inspection before stepping inside. "Fresh pair. Bought them today. Haven’t touched anything except the inside of a shoebox and your elevator."
"That doesn’t mean…" I began.
"I also sanitized my hands in the lobby, and I haven’t eaten anything with my fingers in the last three hours." He walked in and dropped onto my couch. "You’re welcome."
