Eighty-Sixed [manxman]

XXIII | Facets of Trust |

Oliver crossed the room and sat next to me on the bed. "Why the fuck would your parents hire him? He doesn't seem like the type of person to trust."

I shrugged. "Every time I think about it, I just get angry at them. But, how can I be angry with them? They're my parents."

"It's okay to be angry with your parents, Alec."

"But they aren't even here to defend themselves, to answer any of my questions. That isn't fair."

"Nothing in life is," Oliver said. "And death even less so. It's not fair, and none of it was her fault, but sometimes I get furious with my sister for leaving me. I wasn't ready to take on the responsibility of kids, to become the head of our family, but that's what she left me. None of this was what I wanted for myself when I pictured my life. I wanted to meet someone, marry, maybe think about kids in my thirties or something. But I'm a father now, and even though it's hard some days, I couldn't imagine my life being any different."

"Something good came from yours, though. Where's the silver lining with Garcia and my parents? What makes a monster--what's the difference between me and Garcia when we both kill and take what we want for selfishness? Why did he kill my parents?"

The mattress rose and dipped as Oliver shifted his weight, turning to fully face me. "Alec, all of this brought us together. Garcia brought you into my family, into my life. I don't know about you, but I don't believe in coincidences, and I think with us being betrothed as kids, this was always supposed to happen. Garcia is just a catalyst to begin the lives that were meant for us." Taking my chin in his warm hand, he guided my gaze up to meet his. "And you are absolutely nothing like Daniel Garcia. You are not a monster. Humans are innately selfish, but Alec, ever since I've known you, I haven't seen a selfish bone in your body. You're kind, generous, helpful. Yes, you are an assassin. You have killed people, and so have I. Garcia, all those so-called good guys, have killed too. The only thing separating us is a badge, because I don't know about you, but I don't think either of us have killed someone we thought was genuinely making a good impact on the world."

"Who are we to decide that?"

"Who are the police to decide it?" Oliver searched my face. "We're never going to get answers to some of this shit--not in this life time at least. You're doing the best you can, and I think that's all any of us can do--be us teachers, doctors, assassins, ganglords, soldiers, cops, retailers. Morals aren't black and white, kitten, and we operate in a dark shade of gray. We're not monsters, we're not heroes--"

"We're just human."

Oliver smiled, soft and a tinge sad. "Exactly."

I shivered, shrinking away from Oliver and back into myself.

"Here," Oliver said, standing up to turn down the blankets. "I can get you settled back in. You need some sleep after what happened at the casino."

"Will you stay?"

"Of course."

I slid into the bed and let Oliver tuck me in. Once I was settled, he crawled into the other side of the bed, pulling the blankets up around himself, and pressed his chest to my back, tangling our legs together as he draped an arm across my hips. With his warm breath steady against the back of my neck, I closed my eyes and lost myself in him.

"Oh," I said, my voice already thick with sleep. "I love you too."

Oliver tensed behind me. "What?"

"When we were in the car--you said you loved me."

"I didn't think you heard that... I wanted it to be a little more special."