I gave him a sad smile and pulled my hand away so I could point to my head. “It’s gotten weird up here since the underground. Anson does it too, sometimes.”
“You’re like… Asylum.” He stared at me, lips parted.
I nodded. “I guess. Not as bad as he is. I-I went and got some meds for it because I thought I was going crazy. It dulls a lot of it, and I handle the rest by blocking it out. When I was a kid, I could do it too. My dad would hug me and say it was normal because it was who I was. It got better as I got older. It’s like this weird intuition. I just know without knowing how or why I know. Sometimes I’ll hear… you. But it’s not your thoughts. It’s you. Like your emotions or your energy. It’s so hard to describe. When I asked Asylum about it, he smiled and said he called it The Knowing. So that’s what I’m calling it.”
“Just me?”
I shrugged. “Rosalie and Anson, too. Sometimes Klaus. I-I push it away. It’s not terrible now. When Rosalie was gone, I could feel her. Like her energy. It was scared at first, then frustrated and angry, and then… happy. So it helped keep me sane because her happiness meant she was OK. I’m really not great at understanding any of it, and it frustrates me to try. I’m not good at it, and I definitely don’t want to practice it.” I paused. “Anson can do it too, but it seems to bother him less. My dad said it’s just our family. It’s why Everett was always so interested in Asylum. He is beyond powerful.”
“Well, he’s lost his mind now,” E muttered. “They say he’s on the outs.”
I smiled knowingly. “I’m sure. He’s always been a Mirage… looking like one thing, but being something else entirely.”
E released my hand before he shook his head. “I came in here to bitch you out.”
“I know.”
“Of course you do,” he murmured, giving another slight shake of his head. “Is thisknowingalways on, then? Like, you already know what’s going to happen, like Asylum does?”
I sighed. “No. It’s not like that. I don’t do what he does. I just… know. I feel. He’s more practiced at it than I am. He was trained. I wasn’t. I don’t want to be. I ignore it for the most part.”
“Can you feel Cole and Enzo?” he asked.
“No. I probably could if I tried, but I don’t want to. I want people to have lives without my intrusion. Anson is the same. We both practice shutting it out. Sometimes it creeps in, but that’s all. We don’t seek it out. I just want to be normal,” I admitted softly. “So I push it away. I think the trauma triggered it more in me, and with that in mind, I push harder for it to go away because it’s a constant reminder of that time in my life.”
“I get it,” he said, nodding.
I said nothing as I stared at him. God, he looked good. So healthy and vibrant. For as long as I knew E, he’d always had that energy about him that was like a ghost haunting him. He would smile, but the happiness wouldn’t be behind it. Only Rosalie made the little gold bursts of happiness for him. But now, he didn’t need her. He had found happiness without her, and I knew it was because he was so focused on his son. He loved him deeply. He had a career, a purpose in life now.
“You’re reading me,” E murmured. “I don’t need to be gifted to know it.”
“You look good, E. I’m proud of you.”
He scoffed, a little smile on his face. “I have a good life now. Not that I didn’t before, but I have my shit together. My son needs me. The guys need me. I wouldn’t want to burden themwith my bullshit. A part of me died, and I have no desire to resurrect it, so I moved on. I just… I miss parts of that life.”
“Rosalie,” I murmured.
“Always Rosalie,” he said sadly.
“She loves you, E. She always has. She misses you. We’re right here if you want to join us.”
He shook his head, a sad smile on his face. “I’m not quite there yet. I have some shit I need to work through. If I told Rosalie yes and then she met Laz and couldn’t deal… It would kill me. I can’t do that to her, me, or Laz. He needs a mom, and I know Rosalie would be perfect, but the history of his creation and the pain it created for all of us…” His voice trailed off before he cleared his throat. “He’s a little boy who is rough around the edges after having been raised by the guys and me. His mother was an evil cunt who tried to kill him. He doesn’t want to talk these days because his vocal cords were damaged when she tried to stab and cut him. Kids at school make fun of him for how he sounds. I just… I need to focus on him right now.”
“I understand,” I said gently.
“He’s the best thing that ever happened to me, while simultaneously being the worst.” He shifted on his knees and went to his ass, pulling his knees to his chest, a frown on his lips. “The best part…” He let out a hollow laugh. “And that’s the part that makes me feel sick sometimes.”
A muscle tightened along his jaw.
“People want pain to be this simple thing with clean lines. The bad thing happens, and you hate all of it forever. But that’s not how this works.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “What she did to me was wrong. I didn’t want it. I said no. I was trapped, and if I told anyone, even now, about it, they wouldn’t believe a woman raped me. They’d say I should have enjoyed it. That my dick was hard, so I clearly wanted it. That I came, so I liked it. What was I supposed to do? It’s wrecked me for a long time.”
Silence stretched between us as I watched him drag in several deep breaths. I doubt he’d ever really gotten to talk this openly before. I knew E. He likely tried to hold himself together over the years so he wasn’t putting more stress on the guys. That’s just how he’d always been.
“But then there was him,” he continued softly. “Enzo took care of him in the beginning. Played the part of his dad as he lived with Celeste. I stood back, pretending Laz didn’t exist. I got high to forget he was in the world, but then Enzo called me, begging me to come because Celeste was going to kill him unless I saw her. Something inside of me began to fray. So I went to him.” E wiped his tears.
“The first time I held my son, it was like my soul split open. He didn’t ask to be born from something so fucking ugly. He’s innocent. He’s kind. When he laughs, his eyes light up. He trusts me completely.” His voice cracked. “He calls me Dad like it means safety. Like it means trust and all the fucking things I didn’t have growing up.”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
