Brady had no idea how much time had passed before his senses began to stir again. They came in as a trickle at first—the intricate texture of the blanket beneath him, the whisper of footsteps on the floor above, the faint smell of broccoli seeping through the cracks around the door. Then as he stirred and opened his eyes, they crashed over him like a flood—the musty scent of car exhaust, pitiful wails from somewhere upstairs, Rachelle in the hall, unmistakable in her pink blouse and skirt. Brady buried his head in his arms and drew a deep breath, pulling his attention with difficulty back to the four walls of his room.
He had just succeeded in gathering up the last of the scattered threads when the latch clicked softly. Brady raised his head just as Rachelle slipped hers noiselessly through the crack. When she saw him awake, she pushed the door open and knelt next to the bed with a smile.
“Hey, Brady. You got a few good hours of sleep in. A lot more than I was hoping for. How are you feeling?”
“Okay, I think.” Brady raised himself a little on one elbow and let out the breath he’d held. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“That’s completely understandable.” Rachelle’s smile softened, and she held a hand out. “You missed lunch, but DeAndre put it aside for you. Want to come try it?”
As much as he would have liked to bury himself under the covers and never come out, that wasn’t really an option. And it wouldn’t be fair to the girl who had gotten him through the worst of his world being turned upside down. He might as well give in to the inevitable.
“Is that the broccoli I smelled?” Brady swung his legs over the side of the bed, and Rachelle moved aside to give him room to get up.
“That’s part of it. Is broccoli on the same level as blueberries?”
“Nah, I don’t have any gripe with broccoli. Carrots on the other hand…” Brady gave an exaggerated shudder as he stood, and Rachelle chuckled.
“You might have to fight Grace on both counts. Come on, your plate’s in the common.”
Brady followed her down the hall and through the open doorway leading to the large room he’d only glanced at before. A round, family-style table sat at one end, facing a corner filled with shelves and cube organizers on the shorter side of the door. The rest of the room was lined with long couches, footstools, and recliners and looked like it had been designed for relaxation and nothing else.
The room’s only occupant was a young man in a wheelchair, who sat with his eyes closed, apparently listening to something on his tablet. He looked up when they entered, but he didn’t say a word while Brady took a seat at the table and Rachelle laid a tempting medley of lightly seasoned broccoli and rice in front of him. Brady was in the middle of a quick, silent blessing when a suddenly cleared throat made him jump, and a raspy voice asked, “So, what’s your name, what’s your shtick, what’s your problem?”
“I—I’m sorry?” Brady opened his eyes to see the guy in the wheelchair now sitting across the table and surveying him with a challenging stare.
“Obviously, but do I get an answer?”
Rachelle sighed as she slipped into the chair next to Brady.
“Dash, be gentle.”
“Ehh, that’s your job.” The guy’s face twisted in what might have been a smirk, although it was hard to tell for sure. “And I’m not prying. We’ll all find out sooner than later. Saves time and trouble this way. You got a name, or you want one assigned?”
Unfortunately, Brady had absentmindedly taken a bite while listening to the exchange, and when the question turned back on him, he couldn’t answer for a few seconds as he tried to swallow.
“Take your time,” Rachelle instructed as the young man she’d called Dash scoffed.
“Aww, come on, let’s not start this.” The rasp deepened into a growl, and he gripped the wheel of his chair and started to turn away before rounding on Brady again with the abrupt command, “Your name, recruit!”
“Brady Ray Owen!” The words snapped out as a reflex, and Brady wanted to kick himself, although he wasn’t sure if it was more because he’d let himself be jerked by the collar or because he’d defaulted to his full name for no good reason. The guy’s mouth twisted into the same almost-smirk again.
“Do they call you Brady Ray back home in Mississippi?” The hoarse rasp in his voice didn’t lessen, but there was no mistaking the fake southern drawl that was clearly meant to mock Brady’s own.
“Georgia.” Brady gritted his teeth as his face burned—almost literally, thanks to the ridiculous sensitivity of his skin. “And no, they don’t, and don’t you start.”
It might not have been the absolute truth, but there were only two people in the world who had ever called him Brady Ray, and he wasn’t going to let those tender memories be tarnished by this brash young man he’d barely met. Unfortunately, the spark that leapt in the guy’s eyes said he knew he’d hit a sore spot and probably wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of it. He opened his mouth, but before a word could escape, Rachelle’s quiet voice cut in.
“Dash, I wouldn’t.”
There was nothing special in the three soft words beyond the vague warning in her tone, but Dash swiveled to face her, and their gazes locked for a moment.
“You wouldn’t.” The defiance in his voice shriveled a little at the end, and Rachelle continued to watch him with a partially raised eyebrow until he raised both hands in surrender. “All right, all right! Names off limits.” He crossed his arms and turned back to Brady with a scowl. “It’s Dash. Just Dash, and nothing else, comprende?”
“Okay?” What on earth was he getting himself into? “Is that…short for something?”
“Short for the fact that I can run five blocks faster than you can say it.” He huffed as Brady’s eyes widened. “On the injection, obviously. I’d suggest staying on my good side because if I attempt payback, you’ll never see me, let alone touch me. Get it?”
“Sure…” What he was getting more than anything was the feeling that this guy could be very difficult to live with. Rachelle squeezed his elbow gently under the table, but when he looked back at her, she didn’t appear especially annoyed. In fact, he could have sworn he saw a little smile playing around her mouth when she answered.
“Don’t you think you should find out what Brady can do before you get too much on his bad side?”
“If you recall, that was one of the questions I asked.” Dash leaned back in his chair, keeping his arms crossed. “Go ahead. Impress me—or try to.”
Man, he wasn’t even used to having these abilities yet, let alone showing them off. But he’d been on his back foot with the guy ever since he walked into the room. Maybe it was time to quit hiding behind Rachelle’s skirts and start sticking up for himself. But what was he supposed to do? Curling up in a ball with his hands over his ears might have been enough to convince Rachelle, but he doubted it would have the same effect on Dash, or whatever his real name was. And how could he prove these weird sensations were more than an easy guess at best or pure imagination at worst?
Brady closed his eyes and drew a long, deep breath, letting the odors of the room, the center, and the world outside swell until they threatened to suffocate him. Then a faint, tart scent closer than the rest caught and held his focus, and Brady felt a tiny grin begin to blossom.
Ahh, so much fun! I just love the gang that's coming together. :)