I’m still lying on my bed after a quick dinner with Susie, who’s now on her second date of the week. My room at our condo isa lot smaller than my room at home, but it’s worth it for the independence. To not have my dad breathing down my neck, begging me to man up and join Ocean View already.
I’m debating heading to the gym for the second time today, just to stop wallowing, when my phone starts to ring.
Uncle Benji.
He doesn’t call much—in fact, he keeps to himself most of the time. Working from home, missing various family holidays, and never bothering to marry.
After teaching me a bit about my gift of coercion, he kind of fell off the grid.
“Hello?” I answer, trying to keep my surprise from filtering through my voice.
“Landon,” he greets gruffly. “How are you?”
‘Um, I’m fine.” But my voice is barely audible, all muttery and distant.
“Hm,” he hums, as if to call me a big fat liar. “When do you intend to join Ocean View?”
Good lord! I guess living in the condo can’t save me fromeveryattempt at recruitment.
“Not sure,” I tell him.
“Soonshould be the answer. It’s easier to protect yourself when with family.”
That’s rich, coming from him. After my sixteenth birthday, he all but disappeared. Instead of saying so, I just sigh. There is no point in arguing with the man; he will never back down or compromise.
Uncle Benji’s insistence on my protecting myself isn’t new; he’s always been like this. In fact, while he was showing meabout coercion, he kept repeating what my father had told me a year prior. That the vultures will someday circle, trying to use me or destroy me.
“I can protect myself just fine,” I finally say, sitting up on my bed as I wait for his response.
“In a fight, sure,” he huffs out. “But Landon, you’re getting older. Your gift is very useful, and you have to safeguard it. Surround yourself with people you trust, and steer clear of anyone showing too much interest in the, uh,specialparts of you.”
Uncle Benji isnottalking about my dick, even if he’s making this declaration sound like it’s stemming from some private, obscene thing.
“Have you ever experienced it?” I ask, my voice lowering. “Someone showing too much interest, I mean.”
I think of Nate, of how he grilled me over the abilities of my power and where and why I’ve used it. In how he’s so adamant about the morality around it.
“Yes,” he murmurs. “Not personally, but someone once tracked your great-grandfather down and tried to take his gift from him. You have to be careful, Lan.”
Tried to take his gift? I don’t think that’s Nate’s motive. He has a gift of his own, and not only that, but he isn’t particularly fond of mine.
I think he’s pissed that I used it on him—that he was coerced, and he seems to think asking someone to maketeathe right way is a great offense.
“Got it.” But I’m not really paying much attention to the rest of the conversation after that leaves my mouth.
I’m thinking about Nate’s gift. How beautiful it was—how it made my whole chest tingle and my pleasure notch higher with every second it surrounded me.
“… don’t you think?” Uncle Benji says, and I startle, gripping my phone a bit tighter as I rub at my temple.
“Sorry, what?”
He sighs. “I said, if you’re feeling a bit scattered, shouldn’t you start taking your medicine again?”
Scattered is how my family saysdepressedwhen they don’t want to upset me.
“No,” I insist. “I’m not feelingscattered, Uncle Benji. Plus, those meds make me weird. I’m not taking them again.”
He’s quiet for a long time. Whether he’s thinking of how to persuade me or of something else entirely, I’m uncertain. But I willnottake those depression meds again. They sucked.
