…..CHAPTER 14…..
Gwen gave Jesse a worried look. “Oliver’s already going home? I mean, with the Director?”
“Yeah.”
“But…”
“It’s not a life-threatening wound, and he’s fine otherwise. No reason to keep him here.”
She nodded agreement. “Oh.”
“Why are you worried about him?” he asked, shuffling papers.
“He’s so nice, I just don’t want anything to happen to him.”
“Yeah, Oliver’s a good egg. Have you had a chance to talk with him?”
“Not much, really.”
“You should talk to him. He won’t approach you to chat, you have to go to him. Maybe you two can strike up a friendship and come out of your respective shells.”
Gwen kept nodding. “Yes, sir.”
“Gwen,” he chided. “My name isn’t that hard to say.”
“Yes, Jesse.”
“Good. Now why don’t you run down to Melinda and grab those files? She should have them ready by now.”
“Okay.”
It was late in the day before she finished filing her own report. Jesse had told her to take her time, learn the ins and outs of paperwork, no hurry, and be honest.
So she was as honest as she could be. Somehow, on her very first official paperwork, she’d already lied. Or at least lied by omission. Gwen didn’t mention that she’d told the stranger Oliver’s name. And she especially kept to herself the fact that she’d allowed an unregistered witch to escape.
And guilt whipped her the whole time. Maybe she should tell Jesse?
Or maybe she should tell Oliver? It was Oliver’s name she’d inadvertently given out.
Yeah. That sounded like the best solution. She had to tell someone. She couldn’t leave Oliver vulnerable to someone who might be a threat. Gwen sighed to herself. Already she was getting paranoid. Not everyone was a threat, for heaven’s sake.
“I’ll walk you home,” Jesse said, handing over her coat.
“But it’s upstairs. I won’t be leaving the building. Is this a requirement? I didn’t think I had to have escort inside the building.”
Jesse’s eyes tightened a little. “You don’t. I just thought I’d walk you home.”
“Oh. Okay.”
In the elevator, she wondered if she’d done or said something wrong. Jesse seemed annoyed. In the hall, a pair of witches walked, talking as they headed toward them, mentioning the cafeteria and making bets on what the menu was. They got on the elevator she and Jesse had just vacated, the door closing on a good-natured argument.
At her door, she reached for the knob, not looking at him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Jesse’s hand took her other arm and she looked up at him. His eyes were dark with an emotion she couldn’t name. “Don’t be sorry. You’re new, you’re learning the procedures, but also the culture here, and you’re a rather shy person. Don’t be afraid to speak up for yourself, or ask questions.”
She nodded. “Yes, si…Jesse.”
He smiled, but it didn’t show in his eyes. “Good.” He hesitated. “Would you like to go out for dinner? We can talk and you can ask questions. Get to know me and our office better.”
Gwen blinked, then smiled, nervous. “I would like that. But isn’t that fraternization?”
He chuckled. “Not at all. Handlers and witches eat together all the time. Oliver practically lives at Oscar’s house, after all. And he’s not the only one who goes home often with his Handler. I’ll probably take you to my place at some point. It’s not against the rules. Come on. Ever had Greek before?”
“Greek food? No.”
“Do you like lamb, or hummus?”
“I’ve never had them. The school food was good, but pretty predictable.”
“You’re in for a treat then.”
So instead of going into her apartment, Jesse took her to a sit-down restaurant, asked for a quiet corner where she felt distinctly uncomfortable when she found they were practically secluded. Jesse asked for a beer, she timidly requested water, and then the silence was way past awkward. The waiter arrived with their drinks in ten seconds flat it seemed, then took their orders. She requested what Jesse recommended as her first try with Greek cuisine.
“So, I read that you were born into state custody,” he murmured after a long pull on the bottle of his beer.
“Yes.”
“Mind if I ask why?”
“My mother was incarcerated for corporate larceny, already pregnant with me. I don’t know who my father was.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I was a crack baby,” she whispered, staring down into her water.
“Damn, Gwen. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
She shrugged. “I don’t remember it, obviously, and it’s just a distance that doesn’t hurt or bother. Like the story of someone I don’t know.”
“Still.”
Gwen smiled. “It’s okay. What about you?” And then she saw his left hand…and a golden band on the ring finger. She lost her smile and looked quickly up at him.
Jesse was watching her. “I lost my wife some years ago. I’m not married any more.”
She looked down at her water again. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s alright.”
“What happened, if I may ask?”
“She died from a pulmonary embolism. About five years ago now.”
Jesse obviously still loved and missed her, to wear the ring even now.
“Yeah. I wear it to remember,” he said softly, voice dream-like.
Gwen looked up to see him staring at it, eyes perhaps shinier than normal, full of sorrow, regret…love.
When his gaze rose to hers, she looked away. “Maybe we should go back to the House.”
“Maybe you should relax and let us get to know each other.” His words were sharper than anything she’d yet heard from him, and she flinched. She really didn’t know him, and the ever-present fear of a cruel Handler knocked on her mind.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound…”
She nodded hurriedly. “Of course.”
They were quiet for a tense moment before Jesse resumed their conversation. “Do you know if you had or have siblings?”
“No. I never looked.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t want to know. Still don’t. They’re strangers. And there would be resentment from both sides.”
“From you? You’re the nicest person I’ve met in ages. Why would you resent them?”
Gwen flushed. “Because there was clearly no concern for the well-being of the baby inside, or I wouldn’t have been born addicted. Older siblings wouldn’t likely want a reminder, and younger ones would likely not want someone who they would see as a possible threat, looming over their lives, poking where they’re not wanted.”
Jesse nodded. “I suppose that’s true.”
Their food arrived, again, so fast she was caught off guard. Glancing around, she supposed it was because it was quite late, with few customers to bind up a cook.
Good grief. It was after midnight, if she wasn’t mistaken. Surely one in the morning? How was this place even open?
But they were, and it was delicious. Gwen made a note to explore Greek food more. She made a soft groan of pleasure. “This is amazing,” she said.
Jesse’s mouth twitched with amusement. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Something about the way he said that made her heart speed up. She listened as he talked about his background in criminal psychology and his goal of bringing in those witches that abused their powers for gain or cruelty. He was especially passionate about getting every single witch registered, his dislike of those that skirted the law in hiding their powers coming through in his tone.
Gwen nodded where she should, shook her head where she needed to, but offered little. Mostly because she was obsessed with finding every single smidgen of tzatziki sauce on her fingers and the plate.
When they were done and the plates taken away, she put her hands in her lap. “Thank you, sir.”
He lifted an eyebrow.
“Oh. I mean, Jesse.”
“You’re welcome. What do you think of the Denver office so far?”
“It’s nice. Everyone is really nice.”
“But different.”
“Yes. Very.”
“Think you can live with it?”
“Of course. Everyone is so friendly.”
“Give yourself time to get to know us. It’s only been a week. We both have six months to trial this before I decide to take you permanently. After that, if we settle in some more, give it a few years to learn each other, I can adopt you. You really should talk to Oliver. He can help you with all sorts of information.”
She nodded, her spirits falling. It wasn’t an officially bad thing to be sent back, but it was a quiet mark against a witch, if a Handler determined their witch wasn’t a match. She had to try to be good for Jesse. One mark wasn’t horrible. But the second chance was the last chance to be a reputable witch.
“Hey, don’t worry. Ready?”
She nodded and followed him back to his car.
Once more outside her door, he gave her a little smile, hesitated, then patted her arm. “Don’t worry,” he repeated.
“Thanks, si…Jesse.”
“That a girl,” he said, waved and left her.
Gwen went into her apartment, confused and worried as she shut her door. She didn’t want Jesse to reject her. What could she do to convince him?
“Silly,” she muttered. Jesse had told her not to worry. That comforting statement meant he knew her fears and was hinting he liked her. As she readied for bed, she made herself relax. Her new life here was just getting started. Jesse was a nice Handler. She’d lucked out. She would be fine.
Gwen settled into bed, stared at her ceiling. She was safe. It was hard to let go of the anxieties, but the longer she was here, the easier that would be.
But she would definitely not tell Jesse that she’d already screwed up. And maybe not even Oliver. Would it be awful if she waited until she was permanently Jesse’s witch? What would he do? That might make it worse.
Maybe she should just forget entirely that she’d messed up.
It might be safer that way.