Page 51 of Twisted Shadows
He’d left the bunny ears in the truck—a crying shame—and apparently hadn’t bothered with a coat or hat that night. He came up to around Grayson’s shoulder, so it was easy to see the flecks of frozen rain that caught in his dark brown hair, the real smile that transformed his face when he looked up at Grayson, the wiry build that was the perfect size for Grayson to lift onto any convenient surface or wall and—
He cut the thought right off, but his body remembered too much: the fun two people of different sizes and strengths could have; the way dry wit used to make him laugh; the care that kind people took with your body and heart.
His body remembered the things and people that had made it happy, even if Grayson never felt happiness anymore. And now that they were in person again, his body couldn’t stop noticing that Reece seemed to be made entirely of things that had once made him happy.
They reached the entrance, and Grayson got the door for Reece, who looked at him suspiciously. “So where do the manners come from if you don’tfeellike it’s the polite thing to do?” he asked, as he walked through the doorway.
A memory started to form: Grayson’s dad holding doors for his mom, teaching Grayson and Alex to do the same; the way his mom would tease his dad and smile. He didn’t look closer, and it disappeared. “Reflexes are a funny thing.”
There were a few other diners scattered about, a couple with matching salads at a table, a group of thirtysomethings eating club sandwiches at the counter. He waited as Reece slid into a booth and then took the other padded bench, his knees grazing the underside of the table as he twisted his legs to avoid any contact with Reece’s. He hadn’t ever conducted the testing needed to find the limits of his knockout ability. They might have been okay with two layers of denim between them, but they also might have ended up with Reece face down and out cold on top of the condiments.
The menus were laminated plastic, a mix of traditional diner food like corned beef hash and burgers alongside things like tofu scramble and avocado toast. Good, Reece could actually eat. “And you heard me say this is on me?”
Last thing he wanted was Reece to skimp on food because of his budget. He’d never met an empath who became corrupted because they were hangry, but Reece marched to the beat of his own drum. Drove in the lanes of his own highway, maybe. At exactly the speed limit.
A waitress came by with waters, silverware, and a coffee—for Grayson, obviously; the world wasn’t ready for a caffeinated Reece. He ordered steak and eggs while Reece asked for a stack of the vegan pancake of the day with extra syrup.
As she left, Grayson leaned forward. “I think we ought to finish our conversation.”
Reece winced. “I’m sorry,” he said, and it sounded genuine. “I didn’t mean to project my fear on all those people, but if I’m not safe—”
“Not that part,” Grayson said, which made Reece furrow his brow. “Someone backed you into a corner, pulled a gun on you, and made you relive an empath nightmare. Whatever you did next, I’d never blame you for it.”
“Oh.” Reece looked a little lost. “Then what do we need to talk about?”
“Why didn’t you tell anybody that someone was watching you?”
Reece’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
He had giant brown eyes, a deeper shade than Grayson’s hazel, framed with long black lashes. Very cute. Perfect for wide-eyed innocence, even if it was definitely bullshit.
“You didn’t even tell your sister on the phone just now. She’s a detective; don’t you think she would’ve wanted to know?” Grayson said, and Reece winced again. “This seems like more than an empath’s reluctance to talk to a so-called empath hunter. What’s going on?”
Reece looked down into his water like it held some kind of atonement for a guilty conscience. He didn’t speak for a minute, and then finally, he said tensely, “It wouldn’t have been fair of me to tell Jamey. And it’s not fair of me to tell you either.”
“Reece, I made you vomit with my voice. I can knock you out with my touch,” Grayson said. “What could you possibly tell me that’s less fair than that?”
Reece blew out a long breath. “What your brother and I did to you both when we were all kids.”
Oh.
“Jamey told me about it. How we manipulated you like Cora did her thralls,” said Reece, “so you’d be stronger and faster than humans were ever meant to be. We changed you both, when you were just children, and that is so much more unfair than anything the Dead Man can do.”
Grayson considered him. “Did your sister tell you the theory she believes?”
“That baby empaths do it accidentally, out of love?” Reece scoffed. “Yeah. But Cora didn’t make thralls until she became corrupted and wanted them to protect her or do her bidding. What better way for the corruption to make sure it’s protected when it’s young than creating a permanent thrall?”
Grayson raised his eyebrow. “I’ve watched Detective St. James tell you no without flinching. She’s in love with Mr. Lee, moved in with him, might marry him. She has her own mind, and her own feelings, and her own life. She’s her own person. She is not your thrall. Not even a little.”
Reece bit his lip. “But if some corrupted part of me was trying to turn her into a bodyguard—if that’s what your empath brother did to you too—it’s fucked up, Evan. It’s fucked up what we did to you.”
“Do you have a single memory of consciously doing it?”
“Of course not, but that doesn’t matter,” Reece said impatiently. “We changed your bodies—how do you know we didn’t change your minds? Your instincts?” He swallowed. “So I’m not going to ask either of you for protection. Never again.”
He looked crushed. And he probably was—there wasn’t anyone in the world Reece loved more than his sister, and there probably wasn’t anything that could have hurt him more than believing he’d hurt her.
Grayson leaned forward. “My empath brother was three years younger than me. My earliest memory of him is when he was two and crawled into my bed during a storm.”
