“Am I supposed to sit?” I asked, pointing to the cushion beside him. The leather reminded me of a worn baseball glove. “Or did you prefer I wait on the porch?”
He reached up to grab my sleeve and pulled. I landed a little closer to him than I would’ve liked at that moment, but I didn’t move.
“I guess you’re still mad.”
Michael tilted his head to look at me, his lips twisted in disapproval.
“This whole thing is so unfair,” I protested. “You’re keeping secrets. Secrets about me. I know it, you know it—why aren’t we talking about it?”
“Isn’t the information about your ability enough to digest right now?”
“The info is digested, Michael. As a matter of fact, it’s so digested it’s getting ready to come out as a big pile of sh—”
“Don’t get snippy with me.” His eyes flashed a warning.
“I’m not snippy, I’m mad,” I returned through gritted teeth. “And your personal health is in danger if you don’t fess up about what’s going on.”
“I really underestimated you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Michael stared at me for a moment. “You’re too brave for your own damn good. You have no idea what kind of situation you put yourself in tonight.” He stood, pacing back and forth in front of the couch. “Seeing you at that house …”
“What are you talking about? Fill in the blanks,” I snapped.
His wide shoulders slumped over in defeat. In one second, all the anger disappeared. “If something had happened to you tonight, it would’ve been my fault. Kaleb warned me not to treat you like a kid. I did it anyway, and I’m sorry.”
I struggled for words, but none came.
“I can’t take another step without involving you.” He clasped his hands behind his head, closing his eyes. “Tonight, when you overheard Kaleb and me, we were talking about—”
“Michael?” A soft voice called from the entryway.
He dropped his hands and his eyes flew open. “Dr. Rooks?”
A woman stepped into the room. A drop-stinking-dead gorgeous woman. Her bronze skin was flawless, her dark hair cropped close to her head. Probably she didn’t bother with her hair because nothing could compete with her face. I knew I was staring, and I hoped my mouth wasn’t hanging open.
“Emerson, this is Dr. Rooks, the person I wanted you to meet. She’s a theoretical physicist, and she teaches at the college. She’s also kind of like a housemother.”
I doubted seriously there’d ever been a theoretical physicist and housemother in the history of the world who looked like this one. She appeared to be in her late twenties, tall, with delicate features and wide eyes. When she turned her head to smile at me, her tiny nose ring caught the light, taking me by surprise.
“Lovely to meet you, Emerson.” Something about the lilt of her voice made me think of warm rays of sunshine and tropical breezes. “Are you visiting?” she asked, puzzled.
I didn’t know how to answer, so I looked at Michael. He checked the grandfather clock in the corner.
“It’s almost midnight,” he said to me. “You should probably call Thomas.”
I didn’t move.
“Please? I don’t want either one of us in trouble.”
“I’ll call, but we’re not finished here. I’m going to tell him not to expect me until tomorrow morning.” I stood to retrieve my cell phone from my bag, silently daring him to contradict me, at the same time shocked by my own defiance. “Is that a problem?”
“It’s your life.”
Dr. Rooks smiled as I excused myself.
Michael didn’t.
I stepped into the hallway to make the call, my hands shaking as I dialed. Thomas didn’t answer. Relieved, I left him a quick voice mail. Better to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission and all that. Dr. Rooks and Michael were whispering furiously when I reentered the room.
“Um, we were just discussing where you could sleep,” Michael explained as they stepped apart, but the flush creeping up his neck told a different story. “Dr. Rooks is going to set up an air mattress in her room.”
“Upstairs.” She gestured to my bag. “Are you ready now?”
I looked at Michael. I didn’t want to pitch a fit, but I wasn’t above it.
“Go on,” he told her. “I’ll bring her up in a while. We have some things to discuss.”
Chapter 22
Here.” Michael handed me a tall glass of ice water he’d gotten from the kitchen, then sat down on the couch beside me. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?”
“Stop procrastinating. All I want are answers.” I rested the bottom of the glass on my thigh, watching the condensation drip down the sides to form a cold, wet ring on my jeans. “You were getting ready to tell me something about Kaleb.”
“Yes, Kaleb.” He blew out a deep breath. “His last name is Ballard. He’s Liam Ballard’s son.”
It took me a second to connect the dots. When I did, my jaw dropped. “The same Liam Ballard who founded the Hourglass?”
“The same. Liam Ballard was my mentor. He’s the one who died six months ago.”
“Michael,” I breathed out. I didn’t tell him I was sorry. It never helped when people apologized for something they had no control over.
His eyes tightened, and the same mix of sadness and anger I’d seen on his face when he’d first told me about losing Liam reappeared.
Dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling, he fed me facts instead of feelings. “Years before Bennett shut down their parapsychology department, an offshoot formed.”
“I read about the Bennett lab closing down.” I ran the tip of my middle finger around the rim of my glass. “Not enough funding or respect.”
“Liam opened the Hourglass to serve the private sector. For a moral purpose.” He raised his head but didn’t meet my eyes. “It had one until he died. You know what it’s like to have an ability with no idea what it is or how to use it. Liam wanted a safe place for people like us to get help. A place where we could figure out a way to make a difference in the world instead of doing damage to it.”
“You left. You aren’t part of the Hourglass anymore,” I realized.
“When Liam died, Jonathan Landers took over.” Even Michael’s profile displayed anger. “As much as I want to be loyal to the Hourglass and Liam’s memory, I refuse to be part of it with Landers in charge.”
“Why?”
“For starters, he’s obsessed with getting to Liam’s research. Kaleb’s been keeping it under lock and key, trying to smuggle it out of the house when he can, but Landers or his minions are always in the way. There’s something specific he wants. He has an agenda. I can feel it.”
“Why didn’t you stay at the Hourglass house to keep an eye on him?”
“I had other things on my plate.” He looked at me, and I felt remarkably like a hamburger with a side of fries. “Besides, Kaleb has a better reason to be in the house than I do. It’s his.”
“If the two of you are friends, why were you so worried about being seen there tonight?”