Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [112]
I admire his commitment, of course. I just don’t share it. This child isn’t blood of my blood, bone of my bone. Mary forfend. I’ve no doubt I’d be a worse mother than Ramona. Some females should not breed, and I am one of them.
“Why?” The kid’s voice rises with pure fear. “She doesn’t work for Psi-Corp, does she? I’m not allowed to leave Nicuan. I’m not fully trained.”
That’s not a logical question, but kids aren’t. I sure wasn’t, as I recall.
Before March can respond, our table quakes in response to Sasha’s state of mind. This isn’t just an ordinary, run-of- the-mill scared child. He’s a TK 8, a powerful telekinetic, and his emotions have significant consequences. Those tremors fling me out of my chair, and I slam my head on the side of the table going down. It’s a solid hit; blood trickles from my temple. I lie there a minute, listening to the breaking dishes while March tries to calm Sasha down. Other patrons scream in terror because Gehenna does not suffer earthquakes, at least not inside the dome, where everything is artificially stabilized. Eventually I climb to my feet.
Amber eyes frantic, March signals for the bill, his hand fast in his nephew’s. “I have to get him off world before they figure out who did this. They’ll detain him if we stay. He’s not supposed to be away from the Psi academy right now.”
I grab his hand, keeping him a moment longer. “Come with me,” I say on impulse. “If you expect trouble, wait for me in orbit . . . I won’t be on Gehenna that long. You can train Sasha yourself, right? Teach him not to lose control. And then, once I finish on La’heng, I can do whatever you’d like. We can see the galaxy. That’d be a great education for a kid.” My tone turns coaxing, and I hate myself for it.
“I wanna go home,” Sasha whispers, his tone thick with tears. “Please take me home, Dad.”
The word eviscerates me. It represents a bond I can’t touch, nor would I want to. It’s immutable. Forever.
His expression tight with regret, March shakes his head. “He needs stability, Jax. I can’t.” He pauses, assessing the wound on my head. “Are you all right, though? Do you need me to take you to the clinic?”
Since Sasha’s only here because March couldn’t wait to see me, this knock on the head is practically my fault. I don’t blame him, or the kid. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“Are you sure?” He’ll do it, I know. Put this child in danger to get medical care for me.
I won’t let him make that choice. Psi-Corp is run by Farwan personnel, and I know what they do to people who break their rules. March and Sasha need to scramble off world before they get caught.
So I nod. “I’m fine. You’re leaving, then?”
It’s too soon. Things aren’t supposed to be like this. I want to believe we can take up where we left off, but I don’t know if it’s that simple, and my heart aches.
Our love consists of stolen moments, but maybe I should cherish them instead of fighting for the impossible. We’ve ever been out of step, a beat ahead or a beat behind; I long for the day when our lives synchronize as our hearts and minds did long ago. March leans over and kisses me soundly, passionately even, but I can’t focus on pleasure with a child crying silently beside me. Even I’m not that selfish.
With obvious reluctance, I pull back, searching for a napkin. Head wounds bleed like a bitch. A spreading red stain covers the white cloth, and March regards me with quiet despair. I know just how he feels that it’s come to this. Sometimes, love isn’t enough, even when it’s all you have.
“I’m sorry.” He drops a credit spike on the table and takes Sasha’s hand. “I hope to see you soon, Jax.”
“You will.” As if I could stay away.
I just don’t know whether I can stay for good. By his bittersweet smile as he leads his nephew out of the café and onto the sidewalk, March knows that. He doesn’t look back, but I watch them go, a tall, strong, dark-haired man with a slight blond boy