Fifteen
Gage Bronson and Dax Janner
Restoration Resistance Headquarters Science and Medical Building
August 18, 4010
9:00 pm
I am afraid.
It is not something I would admit to a lot of people and if anyone asks, I’d rather die than let them know the truth. I’ve been afraid since the day I arrived at Restoration Resistance Headquarters. I am afraid that the secrets I’ve kept will get me in hot water with the people I think are beginning to trust and accept me. I am afraid for Agata, and I worry that she will someday come to resent me for the decisions I’ve had to make for her. Will she ever understand that I’m only acting in my sister’s stead; doing the things for her that Trista could never do?
More than anything, I am afraid of being exposed for hiding the truth about my past to the only person whose trust I care about keeping. She’s watching me as I pull the MPs armor on over a black flight suit provided by Jenica. The armor is a perfect fit and all that is left to put on is the helmet. Blythe approaches from where she’s been leaning against the wall, the helmet clutched between her slender fingers. Her eyes are filled with fear, the same fear that I feel. I am grateful for her presence. It calms me, but also reminds me that it’s okay to be afraid. We have every reason to be.
“I don’t like this,” she says as I take the helmet from her and drop it on the cot beside me. The pristine, white exam room where I was escorted for changing is right up the hall from my final stop before boarding a craft headed for Washington D.C. “You could be killed—you and Dax—if they find out who you really are.”
“If the Professor is willing to risk his life to save those people at Stonehead, then I’m willing to risk mine too,” I answer, realizing that it’s the truth. I have never felt right about the way our government treats the people that were saved from the results of the nuclear fallout by their own inventions. “I kind of wish you would listen to me and just stay behind on this one,” I add as I step forward to cup her face in my hands. Her skin is so incredibly smooth at my fingertips, and all I want to do is trail my hands lower to explore more of the same. “I don’t want what’s happened to Olivia to happen to you.”
“I’m going,” she says firmly, and I know there’s no arguing with her.
Fortunately, Jenica put Blythe’s assertion that she pose as one of the MPs to rest. Even with the DNA altering serum that will be injected into my and Dax’s blood in a few moments, Blythe cannot be transformed into a male and we need two men to pose as officers. We were able to talk her into posing as a prisoner along with Jenica, Professor Hinkley, Laura Rosenberg, and Sayer Strom. While the Professor and Jenica are the big prizes, Blythe and Sayer are an added treat for the enemy.
“Then we’ll just have to promise to look out for each other, won’t we?” I tease, tweaking her nose playfully. “I won’t let anything happen to you, as long as I live. Do you understand?”
Through the glass behind her I see Dax walking by, suited up in the same armor I am wearing. I can feel his dark eyes boring through me with intense dislike, but I ignore him. This moment is about me and Blythe, and I won’t allow it to be cut short because of some prick’s jealous tendencies. She submits to my kiss, and for a few seconds I experience heaven. Her lips are soft and she tastes like vanilla and cinnamon…or perhaps it’s her scent invading my senses and influencing my sense of taste. Surely, no woman could taste this sweet. Somehow, Blythe does, and her pliant lips urge me to take more. She doesn’t resist when I wrap my arms around her and hold her close, savoring the moment for as long as she’ll let me. When it’s over, I find confusion in her eyes—the same confusion I know she feels over Dax.
“I’m sorry,” I lie. I am not the least bit sorry for stealing a kiss with the girl who’s slowly stealing my heart.
“It’s okay, I think,” she says, her eyes lowered. “I’m sorry, Gage, I just—”
“Hey,” I interject, raising her chin so that she’ll look at me. “I understand. There’s so much going on right now and you and I barely know each other. Then there’s Dax …”
I trail off and she rolls her eyes. “He can be such a jerk sometimes.”
I laugh. “Yeah, but he’s your jerk. If I were him, I would be protective of you too. I wouldn’t be too fond of the new guy making eyes at you from across the cafeteria, or kissing you in the middle of the night in your bedroom. He has every reason not to like me. Can’t say I’m all that fond of him either.”
Blythe laughs too, a sound she hardly makes but when she does, it’s musical. “Thank you for understanding.”
How could I not understand? She’s just as mixed up as I am, as everyone else is here. These are pivotal times, for both our lives and the history of our country, and tensions are high. Nothing is simple and nothing is cut and dry. How can I, in good conscience, ask Blythe to give me her heart, when I can’t even tell her the truth about me? The last thing I want is to see those dark, velvety eyes of hers filled with disgust and disappointment. Both are probably inevitable and that hurts me more than the thought of possibly dying tonight.
At some point, I vow to tell her the truth, but now is not that time.