Page 69 of Pieces of Us


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“And you didn’t?”

I don’t answer.

Keats sits forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his thighs. He looks right at me. “I know you’re having a hard time.”

“We all are.”

“Maison.”

I keep my face blank. He can’t know. He doesn’t live in the house, we’ve barely talked since the operation ended, and I don’t think Jake and Travis have any idea of my struggles. He’s fishing. The man is a notorious busybody, much to Travis’s dismay when they went on their first side missions together looking for Mica. I usually indulge him, but not today. Not about this.

He sighs, leaning back in his chair. I watch the monitor showing Travis while I feel him watching me. We sit like that for a few minutes before he tries a new tactic. “I got you that book you asked for.”

Damn him. I fight hard not to perk up too much at that. I’d completely forgotten I asked him to get me a cookbook for Nolan, since he’s out in the real world every day unlike me. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smirks. “I wasn’t aware you were into cooking.”

Fishing again, the bastard.

“There’s probably a lot about me you don’t know.”

“Mm.” He pops a piece of gum in his mouth. Big Red, if the smell is any indication. “Perhaps. You sure it’s not a gift for anyone? A certain survivor who enjoys cooking?”

I drag a hand down my face. “Who told you?”

“I have my sources.”

“You’re a sneaky fucker, you know that?”

“Oh, Maison.” He chuckles, deep and raspy. “You have no fucking idea.”

I laugh. “I have no doubt.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Nolan

No one besides Matt really knows anything is going on between Maison and me, so the focus ends up being mostly on Casey and Carter while their boyfriends are gone, especially when Carter comes to the safehouse because Travis gets paranoid about his safety. I don’t entirely mind, fading into the background, texting Maison when I can, and providing my new friends support.

We even have a night of group bonding full of tequila and junk food, with a side of Netflix and an interesting conversation about daddy kink—Jake and Casey, who the hell would have guessed that?

It’s all going relatively fine, considering. At least until Dr. Singh starts group therapy with, “I’d like to talk about the only shared experience you all have from captivity—the night of the rescue.”

It’s funny how the smallest of reactions can be huge if you know what to look for. Like the way Carter goes perfectly still, the way Casey immediately angles his body as if to shield his friend from the rest of the room, the way Bryce’s hands clench into fists, the way Matt’s eyes cut over to me. I’m so focused on all of them that I don’t notice I’m having a hard time sucking in air until Dr. Singh is crouching in front of me.

“Nolan? Are you with us?” The room spins and swirls. I don’t want to talk about that night. I’ve been doing better, so much better. I’m almost happy. I don’t want to remember how badly I wanted to stay. I don’t want to think about how much I hate this freedom. “Breathe, Nolan. Just breathe.”

My eyes water as I finally snap out of it. I quickly wipe at them, pretending like my hands aren’t shaking as I do. My lungs burn with the sudden oxygen like they have no idea what to do with it. Welcome to my life, I can’t help but think bitterly. I have no fucking idea what I’m doing either.

“What just happened, Nolan?” Dr. Singh asks, his tone annoyingly gentle. “What made you upset?”

I shake my head. He’s usually good about letting us talk on our own time instead of pushing us. That thankfully seems to be his mentality today as well, since he gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze and moves back to his spot at the front of the room. “Does anyone have any initial thoughts or feelings about that night that they’d like to share?”

No one says a word.

“Okay. Let’s do an exercise, then.”

Carter fails at muffling a groan. We all know how Carter feels about therapy. I’m pretty sure he only ever comes for Casey, even though the guy probably needs it just as much as the rest of us. It’s none of my business, but I know it worries Maison. Then again, Maison is kind of one to avoid therapy too, so he doesn’t have much room to talk.

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