That spring was rainy, which was perfect. It matched Po’s mood. It made for wet stalking though. It was impossible to stay dry all the time when he followed Rebel everywhere she went.
He’d been in more uncomfortable situations in his life, and for what he’d done to Rebel, he deserved to be a little soggy.
He’d installed the tracker app on his phone, but he couldn’t just watch her remotely. It made his insides jittery to not be near her. Po knew, realistically, that was his problem, not hers, but he couldn’t get her out from under his skin.
Everything hurt when he couldn’t see her. And it wasn’t the type of pain he enjoyed.
It was a raw, visceral pain, unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Emotional. Feral. It was a wild thing that took hold of his insides and clawed its way out, like a creature with razors to slice his chest open.
So that’s why he watched her from the alcove outside the ancient brownstone she was working in now.
Instead of her old job at the emergency room, Rebel had opted for skilled nursing, end-of-life care for an old woman. It was probably easier, but wasn’t what he’d imagined her doing at all.
He’d peeked in the windows.
She cooked broth and shit, cleaned up diapers on this woman, and fed her morphine like candy. The woman’s family came on weekends, and another nurse spent the night, which was Rebel’s time off, but other than that, she lived there.
With a dying woman.
This was the opposite of saving lives. Not at all what he’d expected when he’d found out she had a new job.
It was like she’d given up. It sliced him deeper than almost anything else.
Everyone had defining moments in their lives. Those moments that fundamentally changed who a person was. Po’s first one had been as a child, when one of his mother’s “boyfriends” had tried to rape him. That’s when he learned his home, wherever that may be at the time, wasn’t safe for him and Daisy. That was when he’d taken to the streets. When he’d learned to not trust words.
So, of course, the night at the club had been a defining moment for Rebel. But how it defined things, he was still unclear. Sure, he’d made the wrong choice, and that had cut him out of her life. But what had made her choose end-of-life care, instead of life-saving emergency care? He’d thought she would want to bring joy to her life, and she’d gotten joy from saving people, hadn’t she? Wasn’t that the whole reason behind her not wanting him to kill Pedigrew?
He gripped his chest with his fist, trying to dispel the pain of the proverbial knife slicing into him.
It faded briefly as he saw her emerge from the building.
He started, straightening from the wall he leaned against.
This was off schedule.
She didn’t usually leave her ward alone in the middle of the day.
Rebel walked around the corner of the house, pulling her phone out as she did.
Okay, so a private phone call.
Interesting.
He pulled his own phone out and pressed a couple of buttons, holding it to his ear.
“SEPs. Liam speaking.” She was calling his boss?
“Hey. It’s Rebel. You said I could call if I had any troubles.” He stiffened. She was in trouble? His feet started moving across the street, head on a swivel as he scanned their surroundings. He didn’t see any trouble.
“I did.”
“Well, I can’t find Po, and I was wondering if you’d heard from him? I just wanted to make sure he was okay.”
Po relaxed, going back into his shadowy perch.
“Yeah. He took a leave of absence. Said he’d be gone a couple of months. You tried his place?” This was what Liam was supposed to say. Po didn’t exactly tell him his plans because he himself didn’t realize how far this obsession would go. But Liam undoubtedly knew he was listening and knew everything about her.
“I did. He’s gone.” She sounded heartbroken at that, and it actually gave him hope. A hope he didn’t dare count on. He’d seen her in his space, the entire thing wired with cameras and microphones. But she hadn’t done anything there, aside from wander aimlessly around, then leave.
“Well, I’d wager he’s still around somewhere.” Liam sounded encouraging, and Po saw the corner of her lips lift, even if it was meager.
“That’s what I’m afraid of. Would he— Is he— I mean, I think he’s following me. I feel like I’ve seen him around corners and stuff, and I can’t tell if I’m going crazy.” He wished he could see her because she sounded like she was going to cry. “I feel like I’m being watched.” Her voice warbled over the phone line, watery and thin.
Over him.
She was about to lose it. He’d never heard her like this before, and it ripped him to shreds.
He’d done this.
He’d seen her in so many desperate situations, but not being able to find him was killing her. He put himself in her place. If he didn’t know where she was, he’d lose his fucking mind.
He could fix this, he hoped.