Page 16 of Jarran

The grip was iron. His fingers wrapped around her forearm and locked, and the force of it sent a jolt through her whole body. His hand was enormous, his fingers overlapping, and she could feel his pulse hammering through his skin into hers, but his grip never tightened to the point of pain. It was more like he was using her as a lifeline to ground himself. Or trying to.

“Jarran,” she said, trying to keep the alarm from her voice.

He didn’t hear her. His eyes were wide and unfocused, staring through the screen at something she couldn’t see. His pupils were blown. His nostrils flared. The implant increased to the point where it was audible to her.

She didn’t pull away. Well, she couldn’t have broken his grip if she tried. Instead, she kept her arm still and her voice steady. “Jarran, I’m here. It’s Evie and we’re in the agricultural bay. Can you come back to me?”

His mouth opened. Closed. His throat worked.

The neural readings were unlike anything she’d recorded from him. A full memory was surfacing, dragged through whatever barrier the terti had erected against it. She could see it happening in real time on her scanner: pathways lighting up, connections forming, a whole section of his brain activating for the first time since she’d started treating him.

His grip on her wrist tightened. Then his face crumbled.

“Taron,” he said brokenly. His eyes filled and tears spilled down his face, over the lines of his jaw, dripping onto his shirt. He wasn’t wiping them. He didn’t seem to know they were there.

“Taron. My brother. He was… He followed me.” He pulled in a raspy breath. “Everywhere, he followed me. I can hear him laughing, talking. We were always together.” He choked and his eyes squeezed shut. “I loved him. I still love him.” His whole body shook. The tremors ran through his arm and into her wrist where he held her.

Evie heard boots on the metal floor. Two guards, alerted by the implant’s distress signal, raced down the central aisle with stunners drawn. They stopped ten feet away, assessing.

“Dr. Carr.” The taller guard’s voice was clipped. Professional. “Move aside.”

“No.” She didn’t look at them, but raised a hand, palm out. She kept her eyes on Jarran. “Stand down. He’s not hurting me. This patient is having a major breakthrough.”

“His implant readings are⁠—”

“I know what his readings are,” she snapped. “I’m monitoring them. Please put your weapons away.”

A pause. Evie heard the sound of stunners sliding into holders and let out a shaky breath.

Jarran leaned toward her and she braced herself as his forehead dropped against her shoulder.

The weight of him hit her. Not just physically, though that was noticeable. His head and his shaking body pressed into her, his hand still gripped her wrist, and his breath came in ragged, heaving gulps against her collarbone. He was sobbing. Deep, wrenching sounds that she felt in her own ribs. This enormous, broken male was falling apart against her because he’d remembered that he had a brother whom he loved.

Her free hand went to his hair. She didn’t decide to do it. Her fingers slid into the dark strands and held. His hair was thick and smooth as satin. Virilian body heat radiated off him, almost feverish, soaking through her shirt and sending shocks of awareness over her skin.

She held him while he cried, with wary guards standing nearby. The scanner beeped on the ground beside them, still recording. She ignored it all.

Minutes passed. His breathing slowed. The tremors eased from violent shaking to a fine vibration, then to stillness. The implant’s hum dropped back to its baseline frequency. His grip on her wrist loosened, his fingers uncurling one by one, though he didn’t let go completely. His forehead stayed against her shoulder. Her hand stayed in his hair.

She turned her head and pinned the guards with a hard gaze. “His neurological readings have returned to safe parameters. Give him some space and privacy, please.”

The guards blinked, but nodded and retreated, leaving them alone. What Evie didn’t say was that she needed the space and privacy, too. This was a lot for both of them.

“He looked up to me,” Jarran said. His voice was raw, scraped hollow. “I—I returned for him and… Evie, he trusted me.”

“He did,” she said simply. “He was your younger brother.”

“Yes.” A breath. “I was supposed to protect him. But I didn’t, did I?”

She didn’t say anything to that. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t be a lie or a platitude, and he deserved better than that. She kept her hand in his hair and let the silence hold.

Eventually, he straightened. Pulled back. His face was wrecked. Red eyes, wet cheeks, jaw tight. “What happened to me?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” she replied, sounding just as scratchy as he did.

He looked down at his hand on her wrist and awareness bloomed in his expression. He released her suddenly. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.”