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"No."
"Yes."
"Fuck no."
Eric returns to normal by dinner time. Considering he had been sleeping peacefully, I had decided not to clank around in the kitchen and risk waking him. Now, desperate to prove that something as trivial as a gunshot wound couldn't slow him down, he insisted that not only I stay and continue working on a few things with him, but that the two of us walk down to pick up dinner together.
"Quinten said he'll deliver it. You probably shouldn't be walking through the faction without eating. You said all you've had in the past few days is toast," I point out. My logic is wasted on him, because despite having taken a nap and waking up crankier than ever, Eric does not believe he's truly injured. "Eric –"
"I'm fine. I'll walk with you."
"It'll take me five minutes. Why don't you…change your shirt?" I try to distract him like I might have done with Zander. Back in Amity, my little brother often threw tantrums if he didn't get his way, and changing the subject was the best way to stop him. "Or put on some pajamas."
"I know what you're doing, Amity. I'm not a child," Eric hisses, ironically looking just as mad as when my mother told Zander he couldn't have cake for dinner. "If I want to go for a walk, then I will. I can't lay around all day. I'm going back to work in the morning. I need –"
"You can't work tomorrow!" I bravely interrupt him, but it's because I'm too stunned to realize he won't like that.
He doesn't.
His eyebrows raise, and the piercing above one is so taught I'm surprised the skin doesn't rip apart.
"You were shot, Eric. Take a few days to let it heal," I start, feeling like I might be overstepping my bounds. He towers over me, in the same dark shirt from before, but his pants long discarded, and my gaze is stuck to the middle of his chest. "I promise, no one will think poorly of you. You might heal even faster if you don't force yourself into action."
"I don't care what they think of me," he retorts, and I'm reminded of the day I first met him. His stare is mean, angry at being hurt, furious over how he was treated, and annoyed that I don't think walking down to the lower levels to pick up a bag from the kitchens is a bright idea. "I need some fresh air. You can come with me. Unless you need to be elsewhere."
"Eric…" When I meet his stare, his expression changes. It's now slick and conniving, like he's about to start a fight, somehow without looking like the instigator.
"Is Michael waiting for you?"
For a man who is my boss, and not my fiancé, he's awfully nosy.
"No, he is not. But you know what? Why don't you come with me? I think it's a great idea, though you might want to put your pants back on," I smile sweetly. The look on his face isn't reassuring at all, and I wonder if this is going to bite me in the ass.
"Oh, sure." His eyes narrow, knowing he's won. "Aren't you going to help me?"
He's fine.
I watched him take them off earlier, and I have no doubt he's fully capable of pulling them back on. I shake my head no, and his smirk tells me he's definitely feeling better.
Our walk to the kitchens is pleasant.
As his assistant, I've often made this trek with him. It's not uncommon to accompany him wherever he goes, documenting things that need to be followed up on, or noting things that displease him. I have a tendency to pick up on comments or situations that he's overlooked; Eric intimidates the members to the point of blatant fear, and in turn, he only gets part of the story. He strikes a nerve with most, and they will scatter as soon as they see him.
Tonight, our walk is the same.
The hallways are dark and quiet, and only a few members are out once we reach the level the kitchens are on. The members we run into avert their stares immediately, after a brief and respectful hello. Most of Dauntless is presumably away or at work; the bars are likely crowded, with members unwinding after their day, and the others are out on patrol. Dauntless sways wildly from feeling like the compound itself is alive –crawling with members and people spilling out from every free inch – to feeling like it's abandoned, with nothing left but its ghosts.
Tonight is the latter.
Eric and I reach the mess hall without much interruption, and had I not seen the stitches on his chest, I'd be hard pressed to believe he really did get shot.
"What did you order?" Eric asks, bumping my arm with his. He walks purposely close under the guise of keeping my pace, but the space is wide enough for him to walk elsewhere. "You didn't want something from Clyde's?"
"I ordered us both burgers. I thought you might want something more substantial than chicken nuggets," I smile up at him. The last time we ate at Clyde's, he'd mockingly asked what I was ordering, because he knew otherwise. "Unless you would prefer those. I think Rylan put in a request for dinosaur shaped nuggets and Quinten agreed to try."
"No thanks."
His answer is cool and even, and his posture shifts. His shoulders pull back, his pace is easy, but unhurried, and he looks arrogant. For once, we don't have a meeting to get to, or someone demanding Eric tend to an issue that needed his urgent attention. We pass through the empty tables and chairs, around a wilting salad bar, and toward the pickup counter. There's a very small crew working, and a girl a few years older than me greets us.
"Hey! Do you have a pick-up order?"
"Yes. It's under Coulter."
I had called this in less than an hour ago, and ironically, using Eric's last name meant they would make it a priority. Even though I saw Quinten frequently, had spoken to him numerous times, attended the meeting he hosted on how much food the faction consumed, and spent a decent amount of time picking up lunch or dinner for Eric from him directly, my own last name did not hold as much power as Eric's.
"Oh, right. One second. They're putting it together now." The girl eyes Eric curiously, but nothing past that. She's used to Leaders filtering in and out, with requests for different lunches being one of the perks of overseeing the faction. "Are you two in a hurry?"
"No, we aren't." Eric answers for both of us, smirking when I shake my head. "Whenever is fine."
"Great. Let me check. I saw the order come in and they started on it right away." She whirls around, her red hair pulled up into two buns, then yells for the staff to see if they're almost done. "The Coulters are here. Is that order up? It's two hamburgers, one plain, one with –"
Her words make me freeze.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Eric's expression, and rather than the insult I would expect, he looks pleased.
Smug, in fact.
"I didn't tell them my last name was yours," I try not to sound defensive, but I know he doesn't like anyone taking advantage of him. People occasionally liked to name drop him after brief, trivial interactions, like they'll get special treatment merely by being associated with him, and Eric always corrected them. "I told them –"
"You told them what?" He turns to say something, but the girl returns her attention to us.
"Sorry to interrupt. Do you two need drinks? We have a special on lemonade today. Amity sent us too many lemons. I can add them if you want."
"Sure," Eric answers. "Whatever is fine."
"Got it. Anything else?" She looks at me, then behind me. "Oh, hello, Sir. Are you here for your order?"
"I am. It's under Harrison. Though I bet the Coulters will pay for it."
I'm not at all surprised to hear the voice of Harrison, and I'm even less surprised to see him struggling not to laugh. He's still dressed in his uniform, and his hair is a wild, rumpled mess. He winks as he steps closer, evoking a glare from Eric.
"Welcome back, Coulter. I heard you didn't enjoy your stay in your former faction," Harrison cuts between us, reaching for Eric's elbow. "Since I have you down here, I need to ask you a few questions."
"We're about to eat," Eric dryly informs him, but Harrison is undeterred.
"Two minutes. Your order isn't even up. I specifically asked for mine to be made before yours," Harrison grins. His tone is amused and he all but drags Eric away from the counter. "You look good. From what Jason told me, I was expecting worse."
"Thanks," Eric retorts. "How kind of him. And I'm fine. Barely injured."
Their conversation becomes impossible to hear as Harrison keeps pushing him further and further away, and when I look back at the counter, the girl's smile is sympathetic. "Your husband got shot, right? I heard about it during my last shift. It's all anyone can talk about."
Her words make me blink, and she takes my surprise as upset.
"I'm sorry to bring it up. I've heard he's like, invincible. My boyfriend works for Peter and everyone was panicking. If Eric can get shot, anyone can." She takes two large bags from the kitchen staff, then reaches below the counter and pulls out to go silverware. "One second. I'll give you something that'll cheer him up. How long have you guys been married?"
"We're not married. I'm his –"
She's not listening to me.
The girl disappears into the kitchen, and I'm left standing at the counter alone. In the distance, Eric and Harrison are discussing something, but it looks like more of an argument. Eric keeps tilting his head like he does when he's pissed off, and Harrison keeps tilting his like he does when he knows Eric is pissed off and it's bringing him great joy. Eventually, Eric catches my eye, and his stare is unhappy.
His lips press together into a fine line, and he looks like he's counting to a very high number.
"Here you go! I put two slices of cake in there. Quinten and the rest of us wish Eric a speedy recovery!" She beams, and when I take the bag, her smile intensifies. "Oh, and Everly?"
"Yes?"
She doesn't let go of the bag, and I struggle not to yank it away so I can retreat upstairs with Eric.
"We also make anniversary cakes. I don't know when you and Eric got married but keep us in mind if you need a cake to celebrate with. I've been practicing. Quinten says if I get really good, I can leave the to-go counter and start in the bakery." She flashes me the biggest smile, and in this moment, I don't have the heart to tell her I'm not married to Eric, and it's unlikely Eric's future wife will eat anything from here.
Ever.
"Thank you. I'll uh, let Eric know. Have a good night." I smile back, and she finally lets go of the bag.
"You too!"
I make it a single step before I realize the name on the bag says Everly Coulter, and my sigh rivals Eric's, still off to the side, furiously defending himself against whatever Harrison is saying.
Can you meet me tonight? Maybe around eight? On the roof just off the sixth floor? Harrison said I'll be done by then. I'm helping fix a few of the trucks before my squad goes out next.
Michael's text dings the second I return to Eric's apartment.
I read it a few times, trying to ignore the strange sinking sensation in my stomach. It's not that I don't want to meet him. He's perfectly fine. Super polite, incredibly helpful, and almost too understanding. I waver between telling him that I can't meet him, and saying yes, because he's been willing to wait for me numerous times now.
As Eric cheerfully unpacks dinner, I eventually tell Michael yes, but it doesn't feel right.
By the time seven thirty rolls around, Eric is half asleep.
The side effects from the peace serum are almost completely gone. He had a headache after we ate dinner, but it went away once he took something. He seemed to feel better now that he was home, and once he put the plates in the trash, I knew he was going to sleep. His stare was tired, no matter how he tried to downplay it, and his eyes were weary. I brightly told him I'd pick up his prescription in the morning, since I hadn't had the chance to run down there, and he agreed without complaint. He didn't make me stick around and do any of the work he'd hinted at, but he doesn't let me leave without question.
"Are you going somewhere?" He looks at me from the kitchen, his stare intense. "Did you get called in?"
I don't know if he expects me to stay, because I've never once spent the night, and it should be Ashley here, not me.
"I'm going to head home. I have a few things to do, but I'll pick up your stuff tomorrow and drop it off. Do you want to text me when you wake up? Or if you need anything during the night, you can call. I'll leave my phone on." I stare back, and his gaze is funny.
He looks oddly disappointed, like he was expecting a different offer.
"That's fine." Eric's tone becomes curt, sharper once again. "You can turn it off. I won't need you."
"I'm sure you won't," I answer evenly, doing my best not to be bothered by the change in his attitude. "Do you need help with anything else before I go?"
"No." He chews on his cheek, presumably conjuring up something for me to do. I half expect him to order me into his office, or demand I stay so he can review the security footage. He eventually shakes his head, and his mouth turns downward. "You can go."
"Have a good night, Eric."
I don't wait for a thank you. I don't need one, because I know he's grateful for what I've done. I don't expect him to fall over for ordering his dinner or picking up his medicine, nor do I think he's going to treat me any differently.
Despite his appreciation for our time together, our relationship remains the same: one intense, slightly injured Leader, and his maybe too dedicated assistant.
"You look really pretty."
Michael is the polar opposite of Eric, and a bad liar. I smile brightly because my hair is a mess. My dress is wrinkled from the long day, and the last few hours are starting to catch up to me. I stopped at home to grab a different sweater and attempted to brush my hair. Though minimal, my efforts were to make it look like I haven't come from running Eric's errands, and they've paid off.
"Thank you. You look really nice, too. Much better than the last time I saw you." I scoot over closer, more out of fear of falling off the roof than anything. The deck he's chosen is a large expanse of flat roof that people use to hang out on. There are couches and chairs, and for the bravest of members, an elevated section with a risky looking railing where one can stare out over the faction. "Are you feeling better?"
"So much better. I had a really long talk with Harrison about the patrol, and it really put things in perspective. He has a ton of knowledge." Michael inches closer, and his foot bumps mine. "A lot of people write him off as being a wacko. But he's really cool. Did you know he goes to Amity all the time? He's got a great relationship with all the other leaders. He even had some dirt on Jeanine that I never would have guessed."
"What did he tell you?" I stare into his blue eyes, half wishing Michael worked elsewhere. I dealt with these sorts of things daily, and I'm having déjà vu of a time when Eric ranted about Harrison knowing something before he did. "You know, I never saw him when I lived in Amity. Now I'm wondering if I ever walked right by him."
"Did you like Amity?" Michael asks, genuinely curious. "My dad told me he almost picked there. He said his dream was to live in the woods, in a cabin away from everyone. I couldn't imagine him not working in the labs, but he said it's really nice there. My mom is from Amity. She always said she missed it and would go back if she could."
"Your mom's from Amity?"
It's shocking to hear someone speak kindly of my former faction, and even more shocking that he seems interested. No one ever asked me about myself or my life before here, and if they did, it was with a stifled laugh, like someone dared them to ask if I really came from Amity.
"Yeah. She said everyone is cool. Very…laid back for the most part."
"Most of the people are very nice. I did like it there, but it's hard work. You're expected to help run the faction, and everyone contributes. But there's no pressure. You just do what you can. There's a lot of brilliant farmers there, and they have some decent food," I pause when he smiles widely, knowing the food here is nothing compared to what my family would cook. "And not everyone is high on peace serum. A lot of people don't take it. Or they take a small dose and it's not enough to do much."
"Would you ever go back? Or run away there?" His thigh hits mine, and much like Eric, he towers over me. "Do you have a big family? My mom said everyone has a bunch of kids."
"I'm going back once Eric gets married," I confess. "I'm taking the week off to go visit my parents. I don't know if I'd go back permanently. It's nothing like here. There's plenty of excitement, but…"
"It's not you?" Michael stares intently, so unlike what I'm used to. It's like he's trying to learn everything about me, and what I tell him will never be enough. Eric has never really asked anything about me, other than if I'm on my way to work, or if I purposely deactivated my email. "That's how I felt in Erudite. I tried to picture myself in the labs, working on serums or testing out new projects. I couldn't do it. I felt trapped."
I nod. "It's a lot like that. Every time I thought about working the farm, or running a greenhouse, or watching the kids for the neighbors, I felt like I was being held prisoner. It gets to you after a while."
"Can I ask you something? And you can be honest. Do you think Eric is really getting married?" Michael asks. "I know he's engaged to Ashley. But he seems…not really interested in her. Every time I've seen them together, they're fighting."
"Well…" I chew on my lip. My world returns to Eric, and just like he knows I'm talking about him, my phone vibrates. I glance down quickly, and I'm right. His message pops up on the screen, and I would swear he's watching the security cameras from his apartment just to ruin my night.
Thanks for dinner, Amity. I shouldn't need anything tonight, but we'll have breakfast tomorrow. Goodnight.
Before I can swipe it away, another message appears on the screen, but this time, from Rylan.
Hey, don't go near the railing. Jason almost fell off it last week. I also almost fell, but my reflexes are quicker than most. As romantic as your date seems, when you can, will you call Daniel? I want to see if he'll send me the bullets from Eric's body. Jason told me he said he'd mail them here. The sooner the better. But take your time. Just not too much time. I have to go to bed at some point.
I swipe both away and look over at Michael.
"I think he will. They grew up together, and according to Jason and Rylan, it's a political move. It'll solidify our relationship with Erudite and unite the factions. Or some bullshit like that," I scrunch my nose, like the idea is as ridiculous as it sounds. "I'll be honest with you, she's a horrible person. I don't think her living here is going to go over well."
"Yeah. There are some rumors that she's coming here to keep an eye on what the soldiers do. I'm not sure where it started, but every so often, someone asks if Erudite ever has any interest in our army. Or if they'd have any power over us if she were here." He pauses, and his shrug matches mine. "Peter said no, but since we back Erudite, they might try to pull the soldiers whenever they need them. It doesn't sound very copacetic to me."
"Me either. I wouldn't doubt they want an army. Jeanine is always really interested in whatever Eric is doing, but not the actual dirty work. I doubt she'd get involved on your level, but you never know." I say, then my eyes widen when he leans back. "Sorry, that sounded so rude. I don't mean you're some low ranking nobody. I just meant, you don't answer to her directly."
"But Eric does?" Michael sounds curious, and in a moment of horror, I wonder if I've made a mistake. I have no doubts Eric doesn't want his work broadcast to the faction, no matter what it is. Admitting Jeanine often sent him projects to look over won't sit well with him, no matter how I spin it. "Everly, does he –"
"No, I'm sorry. I'm…I'm really tired. I think Jeanine would like an army. She thinks very highly of the labs and the scientists, and my guess is, she thinks they deserve security more than say…Abnegation." I try to cover my previous statement, and by some miracle, Michael believes me.
"Oh, I didn't even think of that. You're right. She does. She's always touring the facilities and checking things out. I'm sure she thinks they need more security." Michael nods, and my phone vibrates again. "It's okay. You can get it. Is it work?"
I read the message with a frown, and I have a feeling tonight will get cut short no matter what I do. "It is. I'm sorry. It's um, a request from one of the Leaders. I can't ignore it."
"Hey, I get it. Trust me, Peter calls all night long needing help. I'm not sure how the guy even got into his position." Michael stares, so earnestly that I feel bad. "Do you work with him a lot?"
Rylan's message vibrates again, this time, with a second text.
Nice one, Everly. I like your cover up, but Eric will lose his shit the minute anyone knows he takes orders from anyone but himself. We'll keep this moment between us. Also, aren't you getting cold? It's freezing out here.
I type back quickly, Rylan, are you out here? and his answer of yes sounds guilty, even through the phone.
"I don't work with Peter a ton. I do sometimes read his reports. They're…" I pause, searching for the right word. "Creative. We'll just say that."
My phone vibrates again, and Rylan's messages flash.
They aren't creative. They're stupid. I've seen his reports, and last time, he spelled Abnegation wrong.
Everly, has Eric apologized yet? I just realized I defended him, but he has yet to send anything my way that admits he was wrong.
By the way, I've been meaning to ask, have you ever eaten duck? Jason says duck ravioli is good, but I can't imagine trying it.
Hey, do you have any real pants? Just curious, for research purposes. Or just your uniform?
"Um, unfortunately, I have to go. I don't think this is going to stop unless I take care of it." I throw Michael a very apologetic frown, but he's unphased. "I feel really bad. Every time I talk to you, it gets interrupted."
"It's no biggie. I always assume it's Eric," Michael looks out at the faction, and in front of us, the darkness stretches almost everywhere. There's a small section lit up by the gates, then nothing but a few security lights. "He seems to always know where you are or what you're doing."
"He's not that invested, I promise." The guilt I feel is like I've jumped headfirst into the freezing Amity lakes. "He has a lot of work to do. So, that means I do, too. I'm sorry if it's annoying."
"It's not annoying. It's like…" Michael stops, searching the stars for something. "When he talks to you, the rest of the world disappears. His only focus is you, and your only focus is him. I know he's your boss, but I don't look at Peter that way."
My stomach turns over sharply.
The mood changes because he's not wrong.
Eric has a way of staring into one's eyes, or at least mine, and not looking away. He captures my full attention because I don't want to disappoint him. More often than not, I find myself stuck in his stare, purely to make sure I don't mess up. But it's nothing like Michael is saying. I've never once caught him gazing at me, and if he is looking in my direction, it means he wants something.
"Does anyone look at Peter that way?" I joke, and when my phone vibrates again, I know it's not fixing the situation.
No, no one looks at Peter in any way. It's his haircut, if I'm being honest.
"Eric looks at Ashley like that, too. I think it's his way of making sure he's in charge. There's a lot to be said about staring until someone blinks first or intimidating them into doing what you want. Eric does it to show you who's in charge. I don't think it's anything else." I turn my phone over, but not before it flashes again.
He does NOT look at Ashley that way. He looks at her more like he'd like to kill her.
"If you say so," Michael smiles. "Hey, enough about Eric. If you ever want someone to take you to Amity, even just for a few hours, I'd be more than happy to. Harrison said I can go with him anytime, and he wouldn't care if I brought you. It might be nice to get out of here for a few hours. No pressure, you just let me know."
"Really? You'd want to visit Amity?"
For a fleeting moment, I wonder if he's doing this as some sort of joke. I can't think of a single person in the Dauntless faction who would willing want to visit Amity, let alone offer to bring me there. I glance around, half expecting to find his friends behind us, laughing, but there's no one anywhere near us.
"Why?" I stare into his eyes, and stupidly expecting them to be grey. I shake my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts, and when I look back, Michael looks nervous. "What would you do there? I don't know anyone here who likes Amity."
My phone buzzes, and I decide the second I leave, I will block Rylan's number.
I know someone who likes Amity.
I read it before Michael can, then I turn off my phone completely.
"I don't know. Hang out with you. Maybe…see the sights. Someone said there's lots of lakes, a duck farm, tons of livestock. It might be cool. And I thought…maybe you'd like to go with me. If not, it's not a big deal." He looks embarrassed, like he's messed up, but he hasn't.
His offer is very kind, especially knowing his squad could give him major shit for it.
"I'd like that. I'll definitely take you up on the offer." I beam, and I swear my phone vibrates even though it's off. It's the ghost of Rylan, asking about the ducks or if he can bring one back, to keep as a pet. "I do have to go, though. I need to make a call to Erudite. Do you still want to go to that restaurant?"
"I would love to!"
His enthusiasm is vibrant, even when Rylan stops in front of us, dressed in his official uniform. For once, it's on properly. The jacket is buttoned all the way to the collar, his boots are tied correctly, and his hair is in a bun. He surveys us with mild interest, as though he hasn't been hiding in the shadows, eavesdropping this entire time.
"Michael, Everly. Good evening," Rylan's oddly formal greeting tells me he's up to something. "How is your night going?"
"Good. Are you working?" Michael asks. "I swore Peter said it was Jeremy for the overnight."
"I'm always working, Michael." Rylan manages to remain serious, though I know his idea of work is a few minutes of checking his email, then several hours of seeing what everyone else is doing. "Which is why I must, unfortunately, interrupt to have Everly accompany me upstairs. I need her assistance with a few things."
"Oh, sure. She said she had to go in," Michael looks at me, understanding all over his face. "Thanks for meeting me tonight. I'll call you tomorrow and we'll make plans?"
"Sounds good."
"Sounds not good," Rylan mutters, lowly, but not lowly enough that Michael doesn't hear him.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Oh, you know, it's likely she'll get called in tomorrow, too. I wouldn't make any plans. Hell, you'll probably get called in." Rylan rocks back on his heels and clasps his arms behind his back. "Everly, whenever you're ready. I'll walk you to the control room."
"Sure." I slide off the seat with a tight smile, and promise Michael I'll see him soon. "I'm excited for tomorrow."
"Me too."
"I'm not." Rylan nudges my arm, then points to the staircase. "Follow me. I have a few things to go over while we walk."
"Are you actually working?" I ask. I keep up as he heads toward the door, then we walk into darkness. "Rylan?"
"I was. I had to cover for someone and Max made me wear my uniform because he claims it looks better. So, here I am. Watch your step," Rylan calls out. The stairs are steep, especially in the dark. "Oh, also, I changed my mind about Michael. I think he's fine, if not a bit boring, but I'm pushing ahead on the agenda for you to marry Eric before Ashley gets here."
"He's not boring, and I can't marry Eric. He's not interested in me, no matter what your texts say." I take a step too fast, and nearly fall to my death. "Shit!"
"Oh, so you got them? I assumed your phone was dead since you quit responding," Rylan glares pointedly, as well as one can in the dark. The security lights here flicker, like the faction isn't running at full power. "And you can marry Eric. I bet if you threw yourself at him, he'd be all for it."
"I'm pretty sure he wouldn't," I regain my balance, but nearly lose it trying not to laugh. "In fact, it sounds like a great way to get fired right after he throws me into the chasm."
"You're fine if you know how to swim. And don't worry. He wouldn't fire you. He'd be miserable without his favorite assistant," Rylan answers, distracted once we near the bottom of the stairs. There's a commotion on the third floor, and his attention is piqued. "Hey, I gotta run. You go home and call Daniel. He won't answer, but he'll listen to your message. I promise."
"Do you want the bullets sent to you?" I start my final descent, right as Rylan nods. "Okay, I'll keep you posted. Bye!"
"Bye!"
The roar of whatever is going on becomes loud, but I decide to ignore it.
I continue on my way home, fully ready to collapse into bed and call it a night.
Rylan is right.
Daniel doesn't answer.
I listen to his voicemail greeting, impressed with how professional he sounds, then I leave a message. When I listen to it back, I loathe the sound of my voice. It sounds young and quiet, like someone who should not be calling a brain surgeon. Too tired to rerecord it, I push send, and I hope he'll call me sooner rather than later.
He doesn't.
In a way, I understand why Eric keeps distance between them. Daniel doesn't call back in the morning, nor that evening. On the second day, someone leaves me a message, saying the materials are on their way to Dauntless, and if they aren't there by Friday to call Daniel's office.
There's a heavy wave of disappointment, and though I barely know Daniel, I imagine this is what Eric feels anytime he reaches out.
Three days later, my world is mostly normal.
I sit on the exam table in one of the clinic rooms, waiting for Arlene. Beside me, with his nose buried in his tablet, is Eric. Every so often, he'll let out a huff of annoyance, or mutter something that sounds a lot like the word fuck. We've been in here for ten minutes, on a quest to have him cleared to return to work, and unfortunately, it's busy.
Despite having an appointment, we'd walked down here to mass chaos. It seemed like the entire faction was in here, with varying levels of injury or illness. There was blood on the floor, a few people sniffling in the corner, and a myriad of complaints about how long they'd been waiting. Eric had glanced around in sheer loathing, but luckily, we were called back after two minutes.
They led us to the wrong room, but I understood the nurse's groan when she realized they were overbooked.
I've spent the past two days off my own routine but trying to help Eric get back into his. We ate breakfast together, picked up a prescription from Arlene that he never took, and watched a very boring fight in the Pit. While everyone was glad to see Eric alive and well, most of the members steered clear past nodding if they crossed his path. We spent the night eating a very quiet dinner that I made, though he didn't seem thrilled to be having spaghetti, and each night that I left, he looked irritated.
I stopped myself from asking if Ashley had called because she hadn't.
I knew this for a fact.
An injured Eric proved to be a clingy Eric, but not like one would think. He didn't particularly want me witnessing him in such a state, but he didn't want to be alone. Despite a life of solitude and privacy, he insisted I stay with him, while he did things like sit on his couch and search up how long a gunshot wound took to heal. While I went through his emails, he watched a documentary about a cult that married off its children at the age of twelve, and while I called in his lunch, he took a shower and then emerged in nothing but his boxers.
The line between us wasn't exactly blurry, but it had turned fuzzy.
He'd narrow his eyes anytime my phone beeped, and when Michael did call, I was unsurprised to find he'd been assigned to work nights for the next few weeks. Since our schedules were now opposite, I told him we'd put our plans for dinner on hold, unless he was available on his days off.
I had the feeling Eric had something to do with this, but no actual proof. He didn't say anything, nor did I expect him to. My time with him was pleasant, but different than working in the office. It was personal in a way that felt too personal. I know a lot about Eric, and because he is aware of this, he let me handle whatever came up. The third morning felt like I'd woken up in a strange world where I could be married to him, because he kept looking at me with his lips parted and his stare was on my mouth.
It was driving me nuts.
More often than not, he looked like he was on the verge of saying something, but he never did. He would press his lips together, or he'd chew on the inside of his cheek, then ask for something ridiculous, like a second coffee even though he hadn't even finished the first. Once, he stood directly behind me to reach over my head for a cup. Another time, his chest bumped my head while I read about the medicine he was prescribed, and he rudely informed me he wasn't taking it no matter what the papers said. He insisted I walk with him to pick up his laundry from Christian, and that I stay while he picked out new pants and several pairs of non-work boots.
His actions were strange but entitled, like it was unfathomable that I wouldn't be with him the entire time.
I didn't remind him he had a fiancée.
I should remind him, especially when Arlene finally shows up, and her stare is as sharp as the array of shots she's carrying.
"Coulter, are you trying to give your father a heart attack? He said two weeks off, two weeks of physical therapy, followed by a checkup in Erudite. It's been…" Arlene pauses to purse her lips, then sets down the shots on the counter. "Barely a week since you had surgery. Daniel is not happy."
"Daniel doesn't work here," Eric reminds her, barely looking up. He's reading an email from Jeanine, and when I glance at it, I've read it before. It's one about Eric meeting with her once he's returned to work, sent several times, like I wasn't going to tell him. "I need to get back to work. I'm sure you can write that I'm fine."
"I can't just write that. You'll have to be examined." Her stare skirts to me, and when I smile, she doesn't smile back. "Is your emergency contact staying in here?"
"Yes."
"No."
We answer at the same time, and Arlene's dislike of me intensifies. It's not my fault, but I can't help but think she blames me for not wanting to come down here more than I have to. When I first became Eric's assistant, I had to catch up to what everyone else had for medical care. I was given what felt like a hundred vaccines, several rounds of bloodwork, and enrolled in a plan to keep up with my birth control. I'd elected to start it, having zero desire to end up with a child to carry through the cavernous faction, but when I got the second shot, Arlene's aid gave me mine, along with someone else's. I spent a few days feeling ill, and Eric's annoyance that I had to skip work was hard to miss.
"Amity stays. She has to sign off on my paperwork," Eric smirks. He glances in my direction out of the corner of his eye, then types something to Jeanine. "How long will this take? I'm in a hurry."
"Oh good. That was my next question." Arlene looks at me again, and this time, I don't smile. "Do you plan on updating your paperwork while you're here? I know it took a bit to get it done the first time."
"No, I'm not." Eric still doesn't look up. "Everly's name is fine on there."
"You should change it. Ashley threw a fit over my name being your emergency contact," I remind him. He doesn't answer me, but Arlene cocks her head, suddenly interested in what I have to say. "You could do it now."
"No thanks," he says, petulant as ever. "Next time."
"When is Ashley coming here? I'm assuming she's being held to the same standards as all the other members. Routine checkups, a full immunity panel, everything to make sure she's a suitable soldier?" Arlene's tone is dark, and for once, I like her. "Or does she get special treatment?"
"She's not coming here as a soldier. Don't be stupid," Eric snaps, finally looking up. "Do me a favor and finish the exam. I'm returning to work tomorrow, whether you think it's okay or not."
"Fine." Arlene snaps on a pair of gloves, then roughly informs Eric to remove his shirt. "I have to see the stitches."
"Fine."
His answer is barked at her. He grabs his shirt by the collar, yanks it over his head and tosses it to me. He glowers while Arlene's name is paged over the intercom, and in a lot of ways, I'm reminded of the hospital in Erudite.
Arlene isn't a brain surgeon, but I bet she'd be more than willing to try.
"Are you experiencing any pain? Any redness or swelling?" She approaches him like she would a rabid raccoon, and I don't blame her. "Any nausea or headaches."
"The only headache I have is from being made to wait for you," Eric snaps. "Amity and I have places to be."
"Mmm." Arlene doesn't care, but it might be the million other patients who are waiting, and probably won't argue with her. "Everly, have you noticed anything concerning about Eric that I should know about? Any issues sleeping, or increased irritability?"
They both look over at me.
Eric's glare is ferocious, while Arlene's stare is questionable as to why I'm even in here.
"No more than usual," I shrug, pulling my feet up beside me. I only sat up here so I could look at what Eric was doing, and it feels strange to be put on the spot. "He's fine. He's recovering well. He hasn't needed any painkillers, and I think he'll be alright to go back to his office."
Arlene doesn't like my answer.
"Well, I suppose I'll sign off on it, but I'm going to suggest you refrain from hitting the gym for the next two weeks. I'd like to see you back, and I can have someone work with you to make sure –"
"No."
Eric reaches for his shirt, and my fingers graze his as I hand it back. Arlene huffs when he pulls it over his head, and the exam is over. Eric hops down off the table, then gestures for me to follow him. "Come on, Amity."
"Do you need me to sign his paperwork?" I ask, scooting forward.
"Yes. If anything changes, bring him back down here." Arlene hands me a few forms, and I neatly sign my name at the bottom. Eric walks over to the door, impatiently waiting for me to join him. "Everly, do you have an emergency contact? I haven't seen your paperwork in a while."
I hand her back the papers with a tight smile, and out of the corner of my eye, Eric's head tilts.
He waits for me to answer, though he doesn't need to.
"It's Eric."
My confession is all she needs. She nods, then shoos us out of the exam room without another word, but one interesting look on her face.
"Harder."
"No."
"I said harder, Amity. What's wrong?" Eric stares me down, and it takes everything in me not to bolt off the mat. "Are you afraid?"
"Yeah, kind of." I stall by fixing my ponytail and ignore the way his stare drops to my collarbone. He'd looked surprised when I showed up, but it was because he wasn't my trainer during initiation. He never saw me dressed like everyone else, and the tank top and leggings I have on aren't anything I'd normally wear. "What if you get hurt?"
"I won't get hurt. You'd have to hit me in order for me to get hurt." He scoffs. "Did Four even teach you to fight?"
"No," I lie, but not completely. He did teach us some basic techniques, but his attention was never really on me. I spent most of my time with Bear, and while he could fight, he didn't really try to fight against me. "Okay, he kind of did. But he never watched what I was doing. He just knew I wasn't dead, so that meant I passed."
"Oh good," Eric raises both eyebrows, and he looks even more intimidating than normal. "Tell me more about number boy."
"Sometimes, he'd stare out the windows for long periods of time while looking really sad," I try to distract Eric, but he's too smart. "I think he was pretending he was in prison."
"He should be."
With that, he attacks as though I am the one who shot him. I hit his chest with a thud, and I'm knocked backward onto the mat before I can gasp. My head smacks into the ground, and with zero effort, Eric pins me beneath him.
His smirk is triumphant, like I'm not half his size and fairly new to the faction.
"How on Earth did you pass initiation?" He snickers, and his cheek grazes mine. He rears back to stare down at me, and I struggle to rest on my elbows. "Did Four close his eyes and pick random scores for everyone?"
"I fought against Bear," I protest. I use his distracted glee to wrap my arms around his neck and wrench myself free. "You two are the same size. He might be bigger."
"Doubtful," Eric snickers. He graciously lets me pull him down, then knocks my hands away. "I've seen the kid. He's average at best."
"He is not!" I give up fighting, because even recovering from a gunshot, Eric is much stronger. "Eric, will you –"
He stops.
Eric hovers over me, his hips against mine and his upper body covering my own, and there is absolutely no one around us. We'd met down here after lunch, and Eric promised he wanted to ease back into working out. He promised it wouldn't be too intense; he started on the punching bags, and when he grew bored, he turned his attention to me. Ten minutes later, our sparring lesson was underway, and I had a healthy fear when I realized that if he really wanted to, Eric could rip my head off.
"Will I what?"
My arms are still about his neck, and he stares down intently. The skin above his eyebrow is pulled taut, and his eyes are dark. He's not even remotely sweaty, and if anything, he looks more alive than I've seen him look in weeks.
"What, Amity? You have to finish your question…" his head drops closer to mine, and my fingers tighten at the base of his neck. He's impressive in size, but he's especially intimidating without his uniform on. My heartbeat turns painful, like it's struggling to pump blood, and his nose touches mine. "What do you want?"
I want a lot of things.
I want him to tell off Ashley. I want things to go back to normal, where he isn't hurt and he doesn't have a fiancée lurking in another faction. I want my days to be happily spent assisting him, and the two of us head home after a long day at the office. I want him calling me to pick up his dinner, but making sure I've eaten, too, and afterwards, smugly insisting we share dessert even though he isn't going to eat it.
In this moment, I stupidly want him to bend his head down lower, so his lips will touch mine.
"What the fuck are you two doing?"
None of that happens.
From somewhere off to the side, the angry voice of Four interrupts whatever Eric was about to do. Eric pulls away in a purposefully slow manner, and there's not an ounce of unease in his posture.
"I'm teaching your former initiate how to fight. Judging by her poor skills, I guess it's time we take an active interest in your instruction again," Eric smiles. He's on his feet before I can blink, and when he strolls toward Four, I'm nervous for him. "Explain to me how she barely knows how to throw a punch. You've gotten lax, Four."
I scramble to my feet, just in time to catch the look of sheer agony flash across Four's face.
"I trained her how to fight. It's not my fault she's gotten complacent in your office." Four glances at me, and it's quick and full of disdain. "Maybe take her out for some fresh air. It would be good for both of you. I think we all learned what happens when you prefer paperwork over doing your actual job."
The first punch is Eric's.
After a week of pent-up aggression over being shot, being held hostage in Erudite, and a tense visit with Arlene, Four has said just the right thing to set Eric off. There is a crack of something that sounds like bone, and a muffled groan as Four attempts to block Eric's next punch. His next groan is loud and painful, and by the time I make it over there, Eric has him by the throat.
"Eric! No!"
I try to get in between them, not because I care if he winds up breaking Four's face, but because I don't want Eric to kill Four before his stitches heal. This isn't even a fair fight. If Four could get the upper hand, he might land a lucky shot since Eric has spent the week in bed. I know this won't feel good once the adrenaline wears off, so I reach for Eric's arm, and his stare flies to me.
"Get back, Amity."
"He's not worth it, Eric. You know that." I grab him by the arm, and a second later, he lets go of Four.
He almost knocks me over when he steps back, and his stare is lethal. He turns to Four with a sneer, and Four wisely takes a step back.
"Go to the infirmary, and when you're done, you can go explain to Max why we'll be overseeing the rest of your initiation," Eric snarls. "And if you aren't up there by the time Max goes home, I'll make sure you don't live to see the next week."
"Fuck you," Four counters, pressing his palm to his bloody nose. He attempts to stop it from dripping down his face, but his efforts are futile. "You attacked me, unprovoked."
"You insulted my assistant," Eric seethes. "I've told you before, she's not your business."
"Funny, because the whole faction is in your business," Four says darkly. "It's all anyone can talk about. How on Earth Everly chooses to work for you is beyond me."
"I like working for Eric," I answer hotly. I don't need to defend myself to him, but I've had enough of people speaking about me, rather than to me. "And he's not wrong. You didn't even know if I could fight or not. I left your class knowing about as much as I did when I came here."
Eric smirks at my words. My defense of him is pleasing, but so is my agreement that Four is a lousy trainer.
"Go." Eric waves him off, and Flour sulks away.
He shoots a withering stare in my direction, but I'm not about to help him.
"I'm not complacent," I face Eric, and his nod is immediate. "I wouldn't win in a fight against you, but that has nothing to do with how I was trained."
"I know." Eric closes the distance between us. He takes my hands and examines them, as though I'm the one who punched Four. When he's satisfied that I'm uninjured from our own match, his grip tightens. "He's needed some reminding of his place here for a while now."
"Are you alright? Did he hit you?" I examine his face, but there's not a single scratch on him. The one on his throat has vanished, and he looks absolutely fine. "I didn't think he did, but I couldn't see."
"He didn't have time to hit me."
Eric's penchant for violence is something I'm well aware of, but in this moment, it's well deserved. Four's been subtly goading him for some time, and unluckily for him, he pushed it too far today.
"Come on. We can go home. I think that's enough training for today," Eric lets go with a pleased, haughty grin, and it's hard to miss the change in his attitude.
His arrogance isn't surprising, and neither is it when he walks alongside me, his arm casually bumping against my own.
On Monday, a girl shows up with flowers.
I sit beside Eric, typing an email to Jack about Marcus. Upon his return, Eric found it suspicious that Marcus would use his assigned email to reach out. He told me Marcus never used current technology, and quite frequently refused to participate in anything that required it. The most logical conclusion is that Marcus is creating a paper trail, especially when Johanna has been reluctant to increase Abnegation's food quantities. He wanted Jack's thoughts on this, since Jack recently mentioned Amity had sent him less for the week than his faction had ordered, and when he reached out, Johanna acted confused.
I listen carefully, typing as fast as I can, while Harrison sits in the visitors' chairs. He appears to be listening, at least somewhat. He has his own laptop out, and every so often, he mutters about the price of commercial real estate. The knock on the half-opened door makes everyone look up, and a girl dressed in all black bounces in before Eric can tell her to go away.
"Hi! Sorry to interrupt. I'm supposed to drop these off before noon." The girl is extremely enthusiastic, and very tall. She happily skips by Harrison, and in her arms, are dozens of pink flowers. "This is Eric Coulter's office, right?"
Eric cocks his head. He stops what he's doing to blink at her, and his expression tenses, like she's brought actual garbage into his office. "Yes, this is my office."
"Oh good! These aren't for you," she pauses when Harrison lets out a snort of laughter. "They're for…Everly…well, it says Everly in Eric Coulter's office. I'm assuming you're Everly."
"They're for me?" I stare in confusion, having zero clue who would send me flowers. "Are you sure?"
"I don't think there's another Everly in the faction. Plus, it said to deliver them to this office." The girl walks toward me, and without asking, plunks the flowers on Eric's desk. "They're from Michael. He says to tell you he hopes you have a great Monday."
"Really?" I sit up straighter, and my notes are long forgotten. "He sent me those?"
"What a thoughtful gesture," Harrison comments, casually leaning back in his chair. "There's so many I can barely see you back there, Eric."
"They can't stay here." Eric's tone is acidic, but understandably so. The girl sprints out of his office, then returns with another vase full of flowers, along with a smaller bouquet. "I have work to do."
"These are also for Everly. I couldn't carry everything in here all at once, so Linda helped." The delivery girl beams, then steps back to examine her work. "They're pretty. He ordered them from the market. There's a card. I think it says something about Amity on it."
I reach for the flowers, and when my fingers touch the card, Eric's stare is so heated I can feel my skin burning. I find it tucked beneath a thick cluster of rose blossoms, and when I read it, it's very sweet.
I hope this makes your week wonderful. I was thinking about our talk, when I saw these at the market, and the girls selling them were from Amity. Karl said you like pink, so I thought I'd send you something in your favorite color. I'll see you once my nightshifts are over –Michael.
"Romantic, right? Where did you find him?" The delivery girl misses the look of utter annoyance Eric throws her, and instead, trips over Harrison as she swoons her way out the door. "I have more deliveries to make, so you guys have a great day! If you don't end up marrying him, please give him my number."
She leaves with a wave, and Harrison nods.
"What a darling girl," he cheerfully announces. "Eric, are you alright over there?"
"Just fine." Eric snaps, and he looks the exact opposite of fine. He looks murderous as he nudges the vase away from him. Our stares meet as it teeters near the edge, and I half expect him to push it right off like a cat. "Amity, get these out of here. Now."
"They're really pretty."
For once, I don't jump at his orders.
The flowers are beautiful; they are lush and numerous, and stunning shades of pink, light pink, and dusty pink. I know what the girls from Amity sell them for, and Michael has spent quite a bit to have them delivered. It hits me that, once again, I should feel a rush of warm, dizzied happiness over them, but I don't. I try to untangle why I would feel happier over the iced coffee Eric purchased for me on his way in, even though we got the same thing every day and he wordlessly handed it to me with a very bored look on his face.
"Should I take them home?" I look over at Harrison, also examining the flowers. He smiles, but it's miles away. "I don't think I can carry them all."
"I'll help you," Harrison offers, while Eric remains silent. "Give me a second. I have to send an email."
"Sure."
"They're hideous. And full of bugs," Eric says, his tone snide. "You really want these in your apartment? Does Amity not have pest control?"
"They're not full of bugs, and even if there is a bug, it's because they came from someone's garden," I stare at him around the flowers, and his expression sours. "You really don't like them?"
"No."
"Did you get those for me?"
In my haste to make it into work on time, I've forgotten that it was likely Ashley would return to Dauntless. It's been a while since she's been here, and her stunt in the hospital was enough interaction for a lifetime. I figured she'd wait until Eric was completely healed to return, but my luck has run out. She stands in his office, dressed in a dark blue dress with gold buttons. Her hair is pinned up, and she looks strikingly mean.
"What?" Eric demands, leaning back in his chair. "Is what for you?"
"The flowers. They're gorgeous. They're expensive, too." Ashley's posture changes. Her eyes are glued to the blossoms with a lovesick expression, and I know right then and there that she knows how much they cost. I wonder if Eric has ever bought her any and the idea makes my stomach turn over. "Eric, they're beautiful."
I notice the shift in Eric's posture; his jaw tenses, and spine straightens. He looks at Ashley down his nose, exhaling sharply, but she doesn't notice.
"How did you get them here? And why is she holding my card?" In Ashley's world, I imagine everyone catered to her. I have the feeling she's used to endless gifts and praise, and she greedily lapped it up only to demand more. "Give me that."
"Wait!"
She snatches the card out of my hand before I can explain, and when she reads it, her eyes narrow. "Is this some sort of joke?"
"They're not for you," I pull the card away from her, and for once, she's too stunned to move. "They're for me. I'm glad you think they're pretty. And you're right, they were expensive."
She doesn't say anything.
I can see her mind whirling as she silently stares me down like I am an insect that's crawled into Eric's office.
"Why does she have these?" Her voice rises, slicing through the air while Harrison resumes typing. "Eric, explain to me why your office is full of flowers for your assistant?"
"Because they just delivered them," Eric's voice drips with acidity, and his stare matches. "She's taking them home. Now."
Ashley turns, her normally pretty face scrunched with anger, and it's a good look on her. "Do you know how much these cost? They only have these in Amity, and they charge like they're made of gold. Who the fuck would waste their points on you?"
The room is silent.
The tension is palpable, but rather than let it overwhelm me, I stand up and smile sweetly. Harrison's expression is interesting as he lets the scene unfold, while Eric's head tilts.
"Obviously, someone. I don't see you with any flowers." I reach for the first vase and Harrison stands to help. "Would you like a few? You could take them back to Erudite when you leave."
Her reaction is instant.
Her lips purse, and her whole body is primed toward me. Anger radiates from her sneer, and when she finally smiles, I suddenly see why she and Eric have gotten along. She's powerful in a way I am not; I do not have the backing of Erudite's leader, nor do I have the entitlement that she does. They are very alike in the way they think and act –intimidation goes a long way for them, and so does pure, clear violence.
She reaches for the vase closest to Eric. He must know what she's about to do, because he shoves his chair back to stand, right as she launches it at the wall. It shatters with a bang, knocking down several of the plaques Eric has earned. The flowers fly in every direction, and the pink blossoms look defeated when they land near the filing cabinet.
"No!"
My gasp comes when she launches the second one, and it nearly hits Harrison in the head. The water goes everywhere; it splashes him, drenches his laptop, and the glass explodes. The third one is knocked out of her hands by Harrison, and before Eric can get around the desk, he's got her against the wall, with her arm twisted behind her back.
"I've had enough of this behavior. Until you can learn how to act in the office of a Leader and his assistant, you are not welcome in this faction. I'm enacting a ban, withstanding until I speak with Jeanine. Under no circumstances are you to return here until this is handled. Do you understand me?" Harrison shoves her harder than necessary, and her protest is shrieked as her head hits the wall.
"Get your hands off me! I'll have you reported for assaulting me. I'll have you. –"
"STOP."
The roar of Eric makes me jump. When I turn to him, he's so furious that he looks like he might stab someone. I've never seen him so livid, not even when he spoke about Four accusing him of murdering someone a few years ago.
"Harrison, let go of her. I'll handle this. I'll –"
"You have failed to handle this. Have I not made myself clear with you, Coulter?" Harrison is just as angry, but he looks fed up. "If you think this is going to unite the factions, then you're in for a big surprise. The actions of your fiancée are not tolerated here. If you wish to keep this peace that Jeanine speaks of, then you and Ashley have a lot to learn."
He looks over at me, and I hate that my eyes are burning.
It's not that she's destroyed the gift from Michael, even though his actions were lovely and sweet. It's not that she's entertained by the thought that someone would want to send me flowers, or that she's bold enough to scoff at the idea that I am worth someone's points.
It's that Eric seems powerless to stop her.
The most feared Leader in Dauntless, the bravest of our members, and the one most unwilling to take shit from anyone, is being forced to watch this situation spiral out of his control. He might be able to control the other members here, and he might be able to lash out at Four or hiss at Max to leave him alone, but this isn't in his hands. This is bigger than Eric, and whatever Jeanine is planning on doing has left Ashley a complete, untouchable monster.
"You can pay for the flowers you just destroyed," I swallow thickly, forcing myself to speak evenly. I refuse to crack in front of either of them. I don't look at Eric, only at Ashley, rubbing her arm and glaring at Harrison. "Both of you."
When I can see Eric, just a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, his jaw is slack. He's staring at me incredulously, and only Harrison nods.
"I'd like to request that she stay away from me from here on out. Even after she's here. It's obvious my safety is at risk, and as an assistant to a Leader, I know I have the right to ask this." I grab everything I can that's mine: the flowers, my laptop, and my phone. "I'm going home. Once it's in place, I'll return."
"Oh, is she leaving? What a shame," Ashley goads, but she snaps her mouth shut when Harrison takes hold of her arm, again, and his grip is painful enough that she yelps.
"One more word out of you, and the only way you'll return to Dauntless is as part of a missing person's case," he threatens. "Everly, go home. Eric will replace the flowers and Ashley will pay for them." He shoves her back none too gently, and her protest dies on her lips. "I'm personally going to drive you back to Erudite. A single word of protest and I'll have you arrested."
"Harrison," Eric starts, but even he stops when Harrison shakes his head. "Fine, Everly, I'll –"
I don't say anything to him.
The disappointment of the situation hits a whole new low. I don't care if she doesn't like me but destroying something someone else has done is making me nauseous. Eric's reaction is making me nauseous, and I can't fathom how we will come back from this. He's proving that in a way, he's accepting of her behavior, and I have to live with it.
I leave without looking at him, not even when he says my name again, and Harrison tells him to shut up.
Her apology arrives six hours later.
After Ashley ruined Michael's flowers, I went home. I made myself lunch, ate it, and fell asleep on the couch. When I woke up, Eric had called six times, and I knew something was wrong. He rarely called multiple times, and even as his assistant, if I didn't answer, I'd get a text. He never called more than once, always preferring to prove how little he needed others.
I blinked at the phone in surprise, then listened to his messages.
The first one was short and curt: Amity, pick up the fucking phone. I know you're upset and…I understand. You didn't have to leave. We have a meeting at three and I expect you back in the office by two forty-five at the latest.
The second was sharper: The meeting starts in two minutes. I'll excuse you this one time, but this won't happen again.
The third told me someone, probably Harrison, had called to yell at him: I'll send you the notes from the meeting. Ashley won't bother you again. I spoke with Jeanine, and she's agreed that Ashley is to stay in Erudite for the time being.
The fourth sounded a lot like Four, on a day when Eric laughed in his face and told him to get back in the control room: Are you home? I should be there in a few hours.
The fifth is noisy, telling me he's at the market: Amity, answer your phone. Did you leave the faction? I wouldn't expect this from you.
The sixth is quiet and heavy with defeat: I'll be by before eight.
I deleted all of them without responding.
I didn't have anything to say to him, even as my boss. The store I worked at had a zero-tolerance policy when it came to violence toward others. While our faction was made up of soldiers, you were expected to act accordingly while at work. You could settle disagreements with your fists outside working hours, but not during your shift. I would expect the same when it came to working with Eric, though I knew what I was signing up for.
With a sigh, I tossed the phone aside and went to make dinner. I ate by myself, then took a shower, toweled off my hair, and threw on the nightgown I'd bought to celebrate making it through initiation. I found it in the store where I worked, heavily discounted since no one here was buying them. It was intricately made, and I could feel Christian's disappointment that it was left to be marked down.
Feeling defeated, I sit down on my bed, and call Forrest.
My older brother won't have any valuable insight into what happened, but he might have a funny story for me.
Unfortunately, he doesn't answer.
It goes to voicemail, and before I can leave a message, the text from Ashley pops up. I should have blocked her number ages ago, but I left it, since it would cause more drama.
I am extending my deepest apologies for my earlier behavior. I acted out of control and let the insurmountable stress I am under get to me. I do hope you will accept my regret over the situation, and I look forward to your understanding. I am dedicated to learning from each experience, and I know you are, too.
Ashley
I read it a few times, not believing she even wrote it herself. It sounds nothing like her, though the arrogance hidden between the lines makes me think she approved it.
I don't respond to her, either.
I sit on the bed, debating if I should call Harrison and ask if she really won't be back for a while, when someone knocks on my door. I've completely forgotten Eric said he was coming by, and I figured he wouldn't. He doesn't take being ignored well, and when I didn't respond to him, I assumed he'd send someone else to come by. The knocking only grows louder, more impatient than before.
I leave my phone on the bed and walk into the living room, not even sure I should answer it.
Eric has never been to my apartment.
He knows where I live, because I had to put it on my application, but he's never once come here. Compared to his own apartment, it is nothing impressive. It's small, with one bedroom, a living room and a kitchen. A bathroom half the size of his, and absolutely nothing modern.
I love it.
After growing up sharing everything I owned, this is the first place I've had to myself. There is no one rifling through my clothes, taking whatever they wanted because I wouldn't get mad, or stealing things off my dresser. There is no younger brother hiding under the bed, or insisting he store his toys in my room. I have privacy and silence, and enough space just for me.
I almost don't want Eric to have access to this part of me, not after today.
I walk slowly, trying to think of what to say. There's a chance he will be furious over what happened, even if he doesn't blame me. When I get the door open, I'm not expecting to see him standing there with an armful of flowers. He looks anywhere but me, so uncomfortable I can feel it.
The flowers aren't all pink. They're bold, vibrant shades of red and crimson, like he refused to pick out anything soft and these are a better choice. When I open the door completely, his stare goes to me, scraping over my bare shoulders and damp hair with interest. He hides it well, though; his shoulders are high and taut, and his posture is that of any Leader on a routine patrol through the faction.
"I called but you didn't answer. I assume your phone died," Eric announces, his gaze unreadable. "I uh, wanted to tell you the situation has been handled."
Neither of us move.
I stay in the doorway, and his mouth becomes a fine line of annoyance when I don't answer him. He chews on his cheek, then drags out the next words.
"These are for you."
I don't take them.
I stare at the petals, lush and numerous, until my vision blurs.
"Eric, how long are you going to let her act like that?" I ask, a bravery in my words I wasn't aware I was capable of. "Are you really going to marry her?"
"What do you suggest I do?" Eric demands, and his tone is tense. He cocks his eyebrow at me, shaking his head when I don't answer. "Marry you? Is that what you want? Do you have a better plan?"
My eyes widen.
"No." I'm thrown off by his question, unsure of how to really answer him. "I don't think you should marry me. I'm sorry if I gave off that impression. I just…I've worked really hard for my position here, and you know this. I don't know why it's okay for her to act like that. I would never throw her things at your wall. I'm not mean or rude. I was working."
"I know. Her behavior isn't acceptable. It was made very clear today, that what she's doing won't be tolerated." He sounds almost as nasty as he did when he was speaking to Ashley, but he's not looking at me. He's looking above me, like he's right back in his office when she threw the flowers. "I spoke with her and Jeanine at length. They agreed what happened today will not be tolerated. As my assistant, you're entitled to the same respect I am. They both understand."
"You already said that," I remind him, crossing my arms over my chest. Eric doesn't scare me, but we've never been in this situation before. He might trust me, but he could easily remind me of my place in his life. This is pushing the limits because we both know he'll ultimately choose his fiancée over me. "She doesn't have to like me, but what she did wasn't okay."
"No, it wasn't." He exhales wearily, and I realize he's still in his uniform. "Everly…"
"Yes?" I crane my head up to him when he stops, and the way he says my real name is too personal. "I'll forgive her, but I don't want to be treated like that. I won't. I've never done anything to her. You know that."
"I do. Can I…can I put these away. I had to carry them up here and the smell is giving me a headache." He looks at me, and my anger toward the situation softens. In this moment, Eric is human. He looks tired, and the way his hair is not absolutely perfect tells me he's not enjoyed his day. "I'll put them on your table."
"Sure. Did you eat anything?"
I mentally scold myself for caring, but it's routine to share meals with him.
"No." Eric walks past me quietly, then stops to look around. He's an odd sight in my apartment, too large and hulking for the small space, and a stark contrast to the light colors. While his apartment is dark, mine is not. Everything in it is lighter, including the pink couch that was here when I was assigned this particular space. "This is your apartment?"
"It is," I watch while he surveys the area like he'll be quizzed on it. "Is Ashley's apartment nice?"
I ask the question before I can stop myself, and immediately regret it. When he looks at me, irritation is all over his stare. He then looks to the side of me before heading toward the small dining table to put the flowers down.
"She lives in a high rise near the labs. It's very…pretentious." His answer makes my heart sink because he's obviously been there. "She wouldn't live anywhere else."
"I'm sure." The anger comes right back, fresh and painful. "I bet it's…lovely. Hey, do you want me to make you something? I have a salad that I made earlier and some chicken."
For a second, Eric stares. He stands by my table dressed in his full uniform; he looks out of place, but maybe not. Maybe he could exist here, if he really wanted to. He looks at me with such a funny expression, one bordering on strange relief, that my heart clenches painfully. I should thank him for replacing the flowers and tell him to get lost, but I can't.
"Eric?"
"Yes. That sounds great."
I nod, and he returns to shoving the flowers further onto the table. The idea of him going to buy them is comical, especially him returning to Dauntless with a truck full of red roses. Soothed by the thought that he did keep his word, I head into the kitchen to grab him a plate, and things shift back to normal.
I sit beside him while he eats, and he very dryly tells me that they found someone to oversee Four's class, and thankfully, it's not him. Our night stretches on and the stress of today lessens. By the time he leaves, he's much more relaxed, until I walk him to the door.
He looks over my head, toward my bedroom door, and his goodbye sounds awfully reluctant.
In the morning, I feel a million times better.
Eric's first message came at six thirty in the morning, dinging loudly as I dried my hair.
I got your coffee. Don't be late.
My heartbeat turns painful, and interestingly enough, this makes me happier than the million flowers Michael sent. The ones Eric has purchased take up half of my kitchen table, boldly filling the space as though they have always been here, and Michael's never stood a chance. I responded with a quick 'thank you' and told him I was heading out now. He responded by sending 'ok' and he sometimes reminded me of messaging with Harrison.
I've had to text him a few times, and his responses were always that of someone who didn't want to be answering me at all. He'd regularly respond with a thumbs down, a single 'k' or 'absolutely not', split into two messages.
This morning, Harrison sends an email, which he prefers because he can respond at his leisure. I read it while I wait for the elevator, and I'm relieved to see that Jeanine has agreed with Harrison. It seems Ashley's latest stunt isn't appropriate by Jeanine's standards, and once Harrison told her that her own assistant was throwing things around Eric's office, Jeanine quickly put a stop to it.
According to his email, Ashley is required to stay away from me for the next three weeks. If she attempts to contact me, there will be repercussions, and this is signed off by all the Leaders: Jeanine in Erudite, Max, Tori, Jason, Rylan, Harrison and Eric, in Dauntless.
I step into the empty elevator, shivering when the doors close. I've skipped wearing pants in favor of a dress and a sweater, knowing we are in the office all day. By the time I reach the main floor, I regret my decision. The faction appears to be running in conservation mode, and even though it's not that cold yet, it's freezing in here.
I make it to the office in record time, and I crash right into Eric as he storms out the door to ruin someone's life.
"Shit!"
"What are you doing, Amity?!" He hisses the words as my head collides with the rough fabric of his jacket, and he steadies me with his hands. "Why are you running?"
"You said not to be late!" I step back, looking at his jacket longingly. "And I didn't want the coffee to melt."
"I put it on the desk," he mutters, throwing me a pointed glare. "Why are you staring at my jacket? What's wrong with it?"
"I forgot mine," I wrap my arms around myself, and he looks like he doesn't believe me. "And it's getting cold in here."
"Yeah, something went out last night. It's expected to last all day." Eric rolls his eyes, then steps closer. "Are you really that cold? You wouldn't be if you wore your uniform. Like you're supposed to."
"I was in a hurry," I smile up at him, and he must remember that I made him dinner after his fiancée threw my flowers everywhere. "Besides, it's very…heavy."
"Which is why it's warm," Eric points out. With a sigh, he unzips his jacket and yanks it off. "Here. We have to walk down to see the training class. Today is the first day with someone assisting Four."
"Who is it?" I graciously take his jacket like he's offered me a million points and slip it on. It's oversized enough that I'm drowning in it, but it smells like him. He watches while I fix the sleeves, and then grouchily tells me he hopes I'm happy.
"You're lucky I have another one in here." he mutters. "Let me grab it."
"Who is helping Four?" I fix the collar, and I'm well aware of the strange feeling that comes with putting on his jacket. It's a powerful sensation, like no one can dare get close to me, and it demands a certain level of respect. "Do I know them?"
"I am."
The voice of Rylan makes me turn, and the look on his face has me terrified for the initiates. He's dressed…. interestingly, and I have a sudden glimpse into his own initiation here.
"Yeah, that's right, the one who was deemed too powerful to be in charge of the initiates is now leading the class. It's about time we get someone in here who can show them a thing or two." He reclines against the doorframe, smirking when Eric closes his eyes. "I heard you don't know how to fight, so now Four is in trouble. Or was Eric merely trying to show you how strong he is?"
Rylan's smug grin intensifies when he realizes I have on Eric's jacket.
"Everly, you look nice today. Especially that jacket. It looks a lot like the one Eric normally wears. How fascinating."
"Rylan, aren't you supposed to be down there?" Eric asks, unimpressed when Rylan rolls his eyes. "The class is about to start."
"Yeah, well they can wait for me, since thanks to you, I now have to spend the next eight hours of my life with Four." Rylan's smile drops away completely, but it returns a second later. "I guess that's fair, since your fiancée got herself banned from the faction. By the way, how are you doing, Everly? She didn't hurt you, did she?"
"Rylan, knock it off." Eric's jaw snaps shut. "It's been taken care of."
"Thank you, Rylan, but I'm fine. Do you want us to walk you down there?" I try to change the subject, because even though Ashley acted absolutely insane, I sort of won. Eric went to the market to buy new flowers, she can't come back here for a few weeks, and I ate dinner with Eric, and he most certainly didn't look at his phone even once. "We're just about to leave."
Rylan's stare flicks to Eric, glowering from his desk, and it's wildly unimpressed. "No thanks. I'm still waiting on an apology, so until then, I walk alone."
"Rylan…" Eric starts, frustrated as ever. "I told you –"
"Bye, Everly."
He leaves before Eric can finish his sentence, and I feel a fleeting speck of sympathy for Eric. I had always found their friendship to be unshakable, but Ashley seems to be a permanent disagreement between them. Eric finally shakes his head, then grabs his phone and keycard before zipping up his jacket.
"Are you ready?" He tilts his head, waiting for me to nod. "We don't have to stay long. We're meeting with Marcus this afternoon, and it's expected to take a while."
"That's fine."
I have no other plans, and I'm curious to see what Marcus has to say.
"Has anyone else gone missing?" I walk toward the door, and Eric joins me. His arm brushes against mine, then he cups my elbow and walks beside me. "Or has it been quiet?"
"Two more as of this morning." Eric's answer is tight. So is his grip on me, especially as we head past Max. He smiles when we walk by, but it's questioning. "Harrison predicts a few more will be reported by the end of the week."
"Weird."
We stop at the elevators, and I catch sight of us in the reflection of an office window. Eric towers over me, closer and comfortable as he makes sure there is no space between us, and his body is angled toward mine. When the doors open, he ushers me in first, then steps inside, returning to stand next to me.
Our fingers touch when the doors shut, and he hands me my coffee. I look up to thank him, and I'm caught off guard by the look on his face.
His lips are parted, and his eyes are full of a warm, burning longing. He licks his lips when I ask him if he's okay, and before he can answer me, the elevator doors open to the furious stare of Eric's mother.