He smirked. “Exactly. No one knows, even though approximately twenty percent of the population has it. Most people don’t understand when I say a touch is a curse or a noise is a fucking bomb. People’s misfortune is a damn tragedy to me. Joy is utopia. Love is divine. Failure is ruin. Unhappiness is absolute death.”
I shook my head. “I—I still don’t understand.”
Jethro laughed sadly. “You will. Basically...my senses are heightened. I feel what others do. Ilivetheir pain. I go insane living too close to people who exist in hate or revenge. It consumes me to the point where I can’t breathe without being influenced.”
“What does VEP stand for?”
Jethro sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It stands for Very Empathetic Person.”
My heart ran faster. “And HSP?”
“Highly Sensitive Person.”
“And that means...”
His eyes tore to mine. “Weren’t you listening? It means I’m screwed up. It means I’m more attuned to others’ personalities and emotions than most. Their moods overshadow mine. Their goals steal mine. Their hate corrupts my happiness. Their fear and rage eclipses everything. I can’t control it. Cut’s tried.Jasmine’s tried. Hell, I’ve tried. But every time we think we’ve found something that works...it fails. Not only am I doomed to always feel what others do, but I’m oversensitive to smell, noise, touch. My brain is too damn perceptive, and I suffer every fucking second of every day.”
We sat in silence.
I digested everything he said, slowly piecing together what I knew about him: how he reacted in situations. How cold he was when he first came for me. He was the perfect image of Cut when he collected me—because that was all the influence he had.
Then I came along and made himfeel. Made him live my fear, my lust, my never-ending fight.
It’s true. Ididbreak him.
Jethro muttered, “Whenever I told you to be quiet. Whenever I couldn’t handle it and snapped—it wasn’t your voice I was trying to hush but your emotions. You’re the worst of them, Nila. You project everything you feel. You’re like a damn kaleidoscope with the range of emotions you go through. Falling for you, sleeping with you... Fuck, it was all I could do to stay standing and not cripple beneath the weight of it.”
Tears shot to my eyes. I hated that I’d hurt him. Unintentional or deliberate. How did I miss the warning signs? How did I not see the changes in him—the anger hiding pain and the commands cloaking calls for help?
I pictured Jethro as a young boy going through so much trauma. Of being poked and prodded and called insane. It physically hurt to think about what he’d gone through—surviving a family such as his.
I touched his hand. “Are you sure the doctors got it right? That they diagnosed it correctly and there’s nothing they can do?”
Surely, there must be a cure?
Jethro snorted. “Do you want the hallmark characteristics? Okay, here we go: One, Empaths feel more deeply. Two, we’re emotionally reactive and less able to intellectualize feelings. Three, we need down-time away from everyone if we’re to survive living with others. Four, it takes us longer to make a decision because we’re bombarded with so many scenarios every time we try to decide. Five, I’m more prone to anxiety or depression. Six, I can’t for the life of me watch a horror movie. I relate too much to the character about to die. Kes made me watch one when I was ten. I had to be drugged for two nights just to calm me down.”
He looked away, laughing darkly. “Seven, we cry more easily—it’s the only way we can purge. Eight, we have better manners when we’re in control of ourselves. More cordial to fight the chaos we’re feeling inside. Nine, every criticism slices through my heart until I feel as if I’ll fucking die. Needing my father’s approval is more than a stupid boyhood wish but a goal that rides me into an early grave. Ten, we look for ways to hide. We become chameleons by adopting the habits of those strongest emotionally. And finally eleven, we’re highly intuitive.”
He dwindled off, twisting the sheets. “Does any of that sound familiar?”
Pieces slotted into place, all making perfect sense now I knew.
Jethro was explosive because he felt everything so much more. He rode Wings a lot to outrun the emotional upheaval forced on him by living with men like Cut and Daniel. He kept switching alliances between his father and me, unable to make a decision when faced with two personalities. He turned inwardand festered when everything became too much. He shut down when he’d reached his limit and was so damn cold when we first met as it was the only way he could survive.
“The tablets, they were to—”
“Block the over-sensory perception. To numb me.” He fisted the duvet. “They worked while you weren’t here. In fact, they were the first thing in my life that actually gave me silence.” He smirked. “But then you came back with your screaming feelings and battering ram of ideals and tore that apart.”
My heart beat faster. “So when we slept together at the polo match...when I asked if you knew what I was feeling...”
He sighed. “I told you the truth. I knew. I felt your need, your sadness, your confusion. You’d fallen for me, but you weren’t happy about it. I bore your worry as if it were my own, but I also basked in the love you had.”
Leaning forward, he cupped my cheek. “I’d never felt so much emotion from anyone. You selflessly gave me something warm and safe and so fucking delicious to hide in. There were no conditions or commands—you were fully open, letting me inside.”
His eyes darkened. “It killed me to think you were still unsure. That you could feel such a way but not want it.”
I leaned into his palm. “I’m sorry.”
