“You have stared down death, in a physicalandemotional sense, and came back stronger, never losing your humanity. That is remarkable. And the fact that you are aware of the callouses you’ve developed, and are afraid that they will hurt Owen, already speaks volumes of your ability to love. Just give it time. You haven’t lost your capacity for love, Ava. It’s just hidden under the callouses. But they can soften. And they will.”
I wiped at the tears with my sleeve, trying to find my voice. “I hope you’re right.”
“Ava, you are a remarkable woman. Few people possess the love and kind-heartedness that you radiate into the world, even when you’ve been hurt so badly. So don’t ever doubt your magic, sweet girl! You will be just fine.”
I chuckled through the tears as Doctor Aspen gave me a quick hug. Hugs were probably not her usual MO.
“Now,” she settled back into the bench, “stop worrying about this nightmare. All it tells me is that you’re worried about hurting Owen, and there’s still some ambiguous feelings towards Grayson we need to resolve. But all of it is quite normal and will be worked out eventually.”
My shoulders slumped as relief flushed through me. “Thank you, Doctor. Thank you for helping me through this.”
Ava
Liamhadbeenoverat Owen’s apartment every night this week. And I was starting to crash out over the lack of sleep. But not Liam. He seemed to run solely on laughter and mischief just fine.
More than once, we had fallen asleep on the living room floor in the witching hours, and I was starting to feel the effects on my body.
I stretched up and lowered to touch my toes, hoping to stretch out my aching back while the old kettle in the FBI breakroom droned on for what felt like hours, without coming to a boil. I was at the point of sponsoring them a new one, just to get my tea at a decent hour.
It was already late afternoon, and all day I’d been meaning to make myself and Owen a cup of herbal tea, to help with our tired, sore muscles.
“Woah, I get enough ass, thank you very much. I don’t need yours in my face too.”
I jumped up at the sound of Liam behind me and couldn’t help but laugh at the look on his face. “That’s such a lie, Taylor. If you were getting so much ass, you wouldn’t be spending all your time with Owen and me.” I frowned as I took him in. He’d been holed up in the lab, and I hadn’t seen much of him all day. “Is that blood on your collar? And are you still wearing yesterday’s clothes?” He’d left the apartment before sunrise, but apparently never made it home to go shower.
“Yeah, I had an errand to run this morning, and it took a little longer than expected. I’ll shower when I get home.” He tried to flip his collar over to hide the blood. At my raised brow, he added, “A nosebleed, is all.”
He poured himself a coffee while I still waited on the darn kettle. “Will you be coming over again tonight?”
“Sick of me already?”
Before I could answer, Owen popped his head into the door. “We have an update. Get your asses in HQ.” He disappeared, but then popped his head back in, looking Liam up and down. “What the fuck is up with you, man? You look like you’ve just stumbled away from a bar fight. You do have a shower at home, don’t you? Go get your shit together. We’ll brief you tomorrow.”
Liam downed his coffee and mumbled, “Aye, aye, Captain,” before jogging out the door.
I grabbed a mug and poured myself a coffee, switching off the kettle to put it out of its misery, before heading to the boardroom.
Everyone was already gathered around the boardroom table, except for Liam.
Emerie rolled her eyes at me. “The queen has arrived. You may proceed, boss.”
“I’ve been upgraded,” I mumbled sarcastically, more to myself, since no one else in the room would understand.
I curtsied while pulling a face, and Emerie turned away from me to hide the slight smile I managed to pull from her. I was slowly but surely getting a glimpse of the real Emerie beneath the mean girl façade.
Owen switched on the large monitor. “Varon’s art informant has a junky son who ended up in jail last night. I got him out in exchange for this.” A screenshot of a text message appeared. Owen was practically pacing back and forth with uncontainable excitement.
“Is that…” Emerie raised out of her chair, squinting at the screen.
“An invitation to the Collector’s auction,” Owen practically beamed.
I glared at it. Could it be?
The energy in the room shifted. A low hum of excitement pulsed through the air, accompanied by a sense of nervousness like you would find in a pre-game locker room.
“We have a date. It’s four months from now.”
“Do we have a location?” Syntax asked, flipping open her laptop, ready to get to work.
