Page 30 of Beyond Protection
Eamon carried both mugs to the small kitchen table and set one in front of the chair facing the window. Took the other where he could see both doors.
Professional habits. Even at 3 AM, the man couldn't stop working.
"Your mom made you tea when you couldn't sleep?"
"Every time. She'd... sit there. Never asked what was wrong."
The invitation was clear: I'm sitting. You don't have to talk.
I didn't know what to do with care that showed up without demanding a show.
My brain started calculating immediately. He made me tea—why? What does he need in return? What's the appropriatereciprocation? Should I offer to make breakfast tomorrow? Take a shift watching the house?
The thoughts came automatically, like muscle memory. Every gift had a price, and every kindness required balancing the scales.
Except Eamon wasn't watching me expectantly. Wasn't waiting for gratitude, acknowledgment, or whatever transaction would close the loop. He just sat there, drinking his own tea, shoulders finally dropping from around his ears.
I forced myself to drink. Tried to just... accept it.
It tasted of herbs and honey. My throat was tight with something that wasn't fear.
We sat in silence. Two men were drinking tea at 3 AM because it was better than lying alone in the dark.
"The tea's helping," I said finally. Testing. Waiting for the other shoe.
"Mostly psychological."
"I'll take it." I paused.
"What do I owe you?" The words came out before I could stop them.
Eamon looked at me across the table. "Nothing."
"I mean for—" I gestured at the mug. "You didn't have to—"
"I know." His voice stayed gentle. "That's why I did it."
My hands tightened around the ceramic. I wanted to argue. Wanted to establish the terms of exchange so I'd know how to perform gratitude properly.
Instead, I sat there, holding tea someone made me because he noticed I couldn't sleep. No angle. No expectation. No transaction.
I didn't know how to do this.
"Thank you," I said finally. It came out rough. "For not making me talk about it."
And for not making me earn it first. But I couldn't say that part out loud.
"Some things don't need words." He stood and collected both mugs.
Matter-of-fact. No drama. Just acknowledgment.
I watched him rinse and dry the mugs, then put them back in their exact spots.
"You noticed I take two sugars," I said.
"Professional observation."
"That's not professional."
