“Well,” I say, when Grimstad is gone and it is only the two of us left in the room. “What do you make of my opponent?”
“Asking my opinion twice in one night?” To my surprise, Elliot sinks into the chair on my right and runs a hand through his hair. I have not seen him this casual since we left the palace outside Invem, and it makes him look more tired than he did before. I must have really taken a lot out of him today, though I do not think Grimstad helped the matter. “You shouldn’t underestimate him.”
“Believe me, I had no plans to do so.”
“Good, because he all but admitted he’s nervous about the election, and there’s no telling what he might do going forward.”
“Do you think him dangerous?”
Elliot considers that question for a minute, his gaze distant, and then his expression hardens as he growls, “I don’t know.” The uncertainty seems to pain him to admit. “I’m no expert on people, but he seemed…”
“Sincere?” I offer. When he nods, I sigh. “I thought so too. But why would he chooseto help me?”
“Either it’s a strange play for leverage, or he’s a decent guy.” He wrinkles his nose. “It’ll be harder to hate him if he’s decent.”
Snickering, I lean back in my chair and try to slouch like he does. My poor attempt is almost laughable after a lifetime of proper posture, and I sit up again. “I’m sorry.”
His eyebrows rise. “For what?”
“For being the reason you are tired. I added a good deal of stress to your day, and then I did this.”
He lifts his shoulders in a limp shrug. “I would have talked to Grimstad if you hadn’t. But I probably wouldn’t have been so polite. Your good manners have their uses after all.” He grins at me, and something seems to shift between us. The moment feels much like whenever I am with Cole or Derek late at night, when the world is quiet and we have no reason to keep our shields up.
“We are friends, you and I,” I murmur as I realize why the air between us is warm and calm.
Elliot’s eyebrows rise again. “Are we?” He does not seem to be arguing. Simply asking.
“Well, by Grimstad’s logic, we have been friends since the day I began calling you Elliot.”
“I like that you call me that.”
It is my turn to be surprised. I did not think he minded the familiarity, but I did not expect him tolikeit. “You do?”
Nodding, he rests his tattooed arm on the table and runs a finger along one of the Celtic knots weaving across his skin. “My old ODA always called me Reid.”
“ODA?”
“Operational Detachment Alpha. My unit in the Forces. No matter our names, we found the shortest route to save time. Reid. Bax. Griff.” His voice strains on that last one, right before he moves his hand tomassage his shoulder above the tattoos. “Even in school, my few friends called me Reid, so only my dad called me Elliot until he…”
My heart aches; he must have had a lonely childhood with only his father as his family. “Do you miss him?”
“Sometimes. But we were apart for a long time, so I was already used to being on my own.”
“Why did you join the military if it took you away from him?”
“Because I wanted to make a difference in the world. And I liked the rush.” He smirks at me when he says that last bit. “Dad was always worried about me, but he understood my need to find my place in the world because I was never going to find it at home.”
I did not expect him to answer any of these questions, and though I am tired from an adventurous day, I want him to keep talking. For some reason, I want to learn more about him almost as much as I want to learn about my people. “Your tattoos,” I say and lean forward so I can see them better. “Are they related to your old team?”
“Yeah. One for each of them.”
I can see ten banded knots, and I am guessing two more sit under the sleeve of his shirt with how evenly they are spaced. “You were close?”
“We had to be. In the Special Forces, you have to trust that the guy next to you has your back. We were brothers in everything but blood.”
The urge to touch his skin and trace the ink that holds his comrades immortalized hits me with a force so strong that I almost do it, my fingers twitching in my lap. But it is a miracle he has spoken this much, and I will not break whatever spell he is under by shifting our dynamic away from how it should be.
“Why did you leave?” I ask, clasping my hands together to keep from making physical contact. I have touched him twice today, and each time left a strange, unsettled sensation in my chest.
