Page 27 of Emeric

He slapped his hand over my mouth. “That’s enough from you. Anyone else, I could talk them down, but my tactics don’t always work on you. So, you get my hand on your mouth until you pull back and realize the priority here.” That was enough to push me where I needed to be. He was right. We weren’t here for me to yell at Emeric and Sylvan. Micah was shot at and could have died.

“Shit,” I mumbled against Sheldon’s hand.

His eyes met mine as he paused for seconds to search them. Whatever he saw must have made him realize I was better now. He removed his hand. “All good?”

I nodded, afraid I’d say something else I shouldn’t.

“Okay.” He faced Sylvan and Emeric once more. “Again, thank you for having us.”

Sylvan’s hands shook as he attempted to keep them still in front of him, but failed. “I have plenty of food and can make you dinner. I have leftovers if you’d like them, or I can make you something else.”

“Leftovers are fine,” Sheldon said. “We appreciate your help, Syl.”

He gave a hesitant smile. “You’re welcome.” Then he was gone, walking quickly to the kitchen.

That was my fault. Sylvan was normally anxious when we showed up needing a safe place to land. Add in me losing my shit on them the moment we were in the door, and he had far more anxiety than he should.

I took two steps to go after him to apologize, but Emeric gripped my bicep, stopping me. It took everything in me not to react. Not because I wanted to hurt Emeric. My anger faded when Sylvan left. But because I was trained to respond when someone held me like that. I could take him down in seconds. He wouldn’t stand a chance. That wasn’t to say Emeric was weak.

“Don’t go in there like this,” Emeric said, but his voice didn’t hold the same tone as before. There was an edge to it now.

“If you think I’d hurt him, then you don’t pay attention at all.”

“I don’t think you’ll intend to do so, but as you saw, he’s not doing okay right now. He was nervous before you got here, then you come in and start running your jealous mouth. It made the situation worse. Knock your shit off, and maybe you’d see that we both want you here, even if the situation isn’t ideal.” I didn’t expect him to say that and was stunned silent for a few beats of my heart.

“You do?”

“We’ll talk about it later. You didn’t earn the right to get information from us tonight. I’m going to release you. If you talk to him, the first words out of your mouth better be a goddamn apology. He did nothing to warrant your attitude. Fix it, or I’ll have Jordan pull your ass out of here, and before you say I can’t or won’t do it, watch me.”

12

SYLVAN

The trembling of my hands didn’t make heating up the leftovers any easier. My mind understood where Oleander’s anger came from, but my heart couldn’t rationalize it. He was feeling left out; however, if he was going to be like this, why not ask me out? Why not make a move? Or maybe I read him wrong.

There wasn’t time for this though. I had guests who needed the safety the home could provide. That meant I was here to help any way I could. Jordan didn’t expect me to be a host. I did. This was my home, and therefore, I could be useful when everything was going to hell for Jordan and the people in his life.

It was only a matter of time before someone entered the kitchen to lend a hand. Usually, when there were people staying here, either they were working on a plan to mitigate whatever the threat was, or they asked if they could help me, sit with me, anything that took their mind off what was happening.

I remembered when Vail and Hartley came, and I got to meet the men Jordan loved. The situation was awful, but being introduced to them and talking to them was great. My nerves got the best of me at first. Eventually, I relaxed and spoke to them as I would a friend. They were both kind people who saw so much in Jordan. I enjoyed watching their relationship thrive.

The sound of footsteps had me tensing only because my anxiety was still riding me. I hated it. The feeling of not being in control of my emotions, of not being able to stop the panic from flooding my system. Anxiety affected me to the point that there were days when all I did was try to calm myself and settle my racing mind. No work could get done. I ate when I calmed enough. The anxiety kept coming back like a bad infection that wouldn’t quit.

“Syl?” Oleander whispered.

My shaking intensified, but not because my anxiety did. It was the way he said my name. It was him in general.

“Yes?” I didn’t fool him with the sound of my voice. It shook slightly. I’d long ago accepted that he saw me as an anxious wreck. There was nothing to be done about it. I was who I was.

I lifted the large bowl of salad from the counter and turned to walk it to the table, keeping Oleander out of my line of sight.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

“I have to get the food ready, but if you’d like to speak, I can do this and listen at the same time.”

“Okay,” he said hesitantly. “I’m sorry about what I said.”

“Are you? Because it sounded like you were angry, and that came from somewhere.” I busied myself pulling containers from the fridge. I made far too much for just Emeric and me.