Page 38 of Beyond Protection
"Better?" he asked.
I pushed up. Rotated my shoulder. The joint moved clean. No click. No compensation.
"Yeah," I said. "Better." I exhaled.
"Where'd you learn to do that?" I asked. Safe question. Easier than acknowledging something more profound had happened.
"My mother. She was a massage therapist. Made me practice on her when I was fourteen. Said if I was going to be big like my father, I needed to learn how to be gentle."
The image of teenage Eamon learning to use his hands carefully made me smile.
"Thank you," I said.
"It's just stretching."
"It's not, though."
We both knew what had just happened. He'd seen the wound I'd been hiding behind performance and charm. The one that saidI can give, but I can't receive. I can be desired, but I can't be cared for.
Instead of backing away, he'd leaned in and met it with patience. My phone buzzed.
The sound cut through everything. I grabbed it from my bag.
My blood turned to ice.
Unknown number.
A photo loaded slowly as my stomach dropped.
It was us. This morning. Maybe forty minutes ago, based on the light.
Eamon and I are walking from his car to this building. The angle was from across the street—telephoto lens, professional quality. Rain is visible in the frame. Time stamp in the corner: 7:42 AM.
Below the image:
New location documented. Firefighter training facility, Fremont. Arrival time: 7:41 AM. The man accompanying you increases your stress markers by 14%. His proximity is damaging. Removal scheduled.
I couldn't breathe.
"Mac?" Eamon stepped up beside me. "What—"
I handed him the phone.
I watched his face change. Fear, rage, and then his professional mask snapped into place.
"When did this come in?"
"Just now."
He was already moving toward the windows and scanning the street visible through the high openings. Then to the door, checking the lock, the frame, the sight lines.
"They followed us." His voice was flat and tactical. "From Ma's house. I should've—" He cut himself off. "We need to move. Now."
"Eamon—"
"Now, Mac."
I grabbed my bag. He was at the door, checking through the small window before opening it.
