The second week, Dahlia comes to visit. She smacks me on the head for almost dying so soon, and she tells me about the affairs in Portland. She says looking for new talent is hard but they have a few recruits with limitless potential and it makes my heart lighter.
She gifts me a photo of the Adler Squad. It can’t be any larger than the size of my palm, but even after she’s left I can’t stop looking at it. Max, Mitch, Harvey and Christian have arms around each other's necks, all crouched to smile at the camera. Mitch is caught mid-laugh, there’s a glint of amusement in Max’s eyes and Christian’s expression is relaxed. Happy. They’re all bundled up in heavy scarfs, and snow gathers at their feet and suspends in the air around them.
And right at the corner of the photo, sitting on its back paws and looking at the camera…
Is a small familiar black cat.
This picture was my first Christmas with the Adler Squad.
Everett’s face is torn out in the corner, courtesy of Dahlia, and it’s enough for me… It’s everything.
By the end of the second week, I’ve had enough of the hospital and I’m forcibly checking myself out. The doctors try to convince me to stay, but when they see how easy it is for me to move around there’s not much they can do except hand me a few medications and give me strict orders to stay away from hard labour for the next four weeks.
I’m stepping out in clothes Lucia bought for me, long grey ‘slacks’ she called them, black boots and a white wool sweater with long sleeves. As much as I wanted to reject the brown long coat and the white scarf, Lucia actually looked excited to dress me up, so I had no choice but to oblige. Besides, it’s mid-October, so the days are getting shorter and colder, even if there’s no sign yet of snowfall.
I’m stepping out of the hospital looking like I stepped right out of a magazine and Lucia’s prouder than she should be when she arranges my transport to the Taiga residence.
I don’t bother calling Reuben ahead of time. I want to surprise them a bit. I just hope I can change into something less conspicuous before they realize I’m back. I feel like I won’t hear the end of it.
Lucia promises to visit, and I encourage her to call often. I worry for her. I make her promise to come for me by the end of the week so we can visit Camille together but she only gives me a sad smile.
The drive back leaves me antsy and nervous. By the time I’ve pulled up to the outer gate, I feel ridiculous in Lucia’s lavish clothes and the guards don’t even try to take me seriously. I have no choice but to call Reuben.
“I’m outside.”
There’s a strange pause on the other end. “Outside where?”
“The outer gate, tell the guys to let me in. Lucia dressed me in something ridiculous so they’re not taking me seriously.”
“You’re supposed to be on bed rest for the next four weeks.”
“The doctor was so impressed with my recovery he said I could go home,” It’s only after the words have left my mouth that I realize what I’ve said. Home. It sounds strange on my tongue. I almost can’t believe I said it.
“Anyhow, are you going to let me freeze to death at your gate? Might not be the best for my recovery.”
Reuben mumbles some curses in Spanish that drive a smile to my lips, and within moments, the guards are opening the gates. My nerves are mounting, strangely, through the drive to the second gate. When the driver puts me off by the porch, there’s a strange anticipation in my chest that wasn’t there before. I’m not sure what I’m expecting. Or why I’m nervous.
Maybe I’ve only fooled myself into thinking I’m a part of the team. Maybe their kindness was reserved for me only because I was injured. Maybe everything will go back to how it was before. Distant. Strangers.
I’m mentally prepared for anything the moment I step into the house.
I’mnotprepared for the strange silence in the air.
I’m not prepared for thestares, following me while I walk through the house, or the eyes of the house sentries. Some drinking in the kitchens, some posted in the living room… and two others posted by the stairs which lead up to the second-floor bedrooms.
Their laughter and conversations all mute to a hush when I pass by. When they see my face.
And then the whispers.
‘That’s the guy.’
‘The survivor?’
‘I thought Reuben got rid of him?’
‘What’s he still doing here?’
By the time I reach my room, there are ants beneath my skin. There’s a strange stammer in my pulse and I’ve held my breath for way too long.
