Switch: Alien Invasion/Violence&S*x-Chapter 152: Trust

"Any chance you want to fool around one last time?" Rose asks.

There is forced humor in her voice, but her eyes search mine carefully.

I grimace at her choice of wording and shake my head.

The parts of my dream where I could not get it up flash through my mind, and I am almost afraid to even try. Fear does strange things to a man.

They help me out of bed, and I say my goodbyes, hoping they are not permanent. Dennis pulls me into a quick, awkward hug. Rose squeezes my hand a little longer than necessary before stepping away.

After they leave, the house feels too quiet.

I jump into the shower and enjoy how refreshing a real shower feels, rather than the Jetsons-style cleansing stations on Vage’s ship. The hot water beats down on my shoulders, washing away the lingering chill of the dream. Steam fills the bathroom, fogging up the mirror.

For a few minutes, I allow myself to just stand there and breathe.

When I get out, I notice I have a missed call on my cell phone. It is from Stephanie.

I have not seen my girlfriend in several days, and I smile as I call her back. The phone rings twice before she answers.

"Are you back on the ship?" I ask as soon as she answers

"No, I don’t want to be in the way. I take it you’re not on the ship then?" Her voice is musical and soothing to my raw nerves, wrapping around me like a warm blanket and easing some of the lingering tension from the nightmare that still clings to the edges of my thoughts.

"No, I came back to my room to get some real rest," I tell her, shuddering as I look at the mess of my bed. The sheets are twisted, half hanging off the mattress, and the pillow is damp with sweat. That dream had been a real nightmare, the kind that sticks with you long after you wake up.

"Do you mind coming over?" she asks next, and I groan inwardly. It is not that I do not want to see her, but that dream... the lingering doubt, the echo of those questions.

No, I need to get over that. I cannot let a stupid dream control me.

"Sure, I’ll be over in a few," I try to say cheerfully, forcing a lightness into my tone that I do not entirely feel.

"Is everything all right?" I guess there is something in my voice I cannot hide, some subtle tremor that gives me away.

"Sure, sure," I reassure her quickly. "You still live over in Detroit, right? It’s been so long..." I trail off, trying to shift the focus away from myself.

"Ha, ha," she fakes a laugh. "Now hurry up and get your ass over here."

"I’ll try not to make a wrong turn in Albuquerque," I say in my best Bugs Bunny voice, leaning into the joke more than necessary.

I finish getting dressed and head out into the cold air. The wind bites at my face, sharp and bracing, helping to clear the last remnants of sleep from my mind. I debate taking Vage’s ship, but decide to drive my car instead. Somehow, the feeling of my hands on the wheel and the road beneath my tires comforts me. The rumble of the engine, the faint vibration through the steering column, the simple mechanical reliability of it all—it grounds me. Maybe it is just another one of those familiarity things. Something human. Something normal.

Popping in a techno CD, I get myself pumped up on the awesome beats. The synthetic rhythms pulse through the cabin, steady and relentless. My sound system is not the best. Well, okay, maybe back in the twenties it would have sounded great, but my speakers cannot faithfully lay down the bass. The low notes buzz more than boom.

Not yet...

A few switches later, I am struggling to keep my car on the road as each low note shakes the entire vehicle. The rearview mirror vibrates so violently I can barely see through it. Maybe I should turn it down a little before something rattles loose.

"Damn," Mary says as she meets me at the door. "Was that your car? We could hear you a mile away!" She greets me with a warm smile, her amusement obvious.

I was not expecting her to be here and, in truth, had completely forgotten about Stephanie’s one-time rival. The last time the two of them were in the same room, there had been enough tension to power a small city.

"Yeah, I should probably turn that down some more," I answer as she leads me inside. The house smells faintly of vanilla and something baking. "I do not need anyone calling the cops on me."

"Oh yeah, I heard they arrested you." Inwardly, I flinch, remembering the situation at the police department after I had taken down the twins. The holding cell. The stares. The questions. "You’re a real bad boy now. That’s so hot!"

"That wasn’t my fault," I defend myself automatically. While I do not mind her thinking I am hot stuff at the moment, I do not want her getting any ideas. Stephanie is my girlfriend, and I do not want to hurt her. The last thing I need right now is more complications.

"Oh, I know," she tells me offhandedly, waving her hand dismissively. "Stephanie explained everything to me. You’re a real badass superhero!"

I stop, stunned by her revelation. The word superhero echoes in my mind. Is there no such thing as a secret identity anymore?

"Sorry," I hear Stephanie’s mellifluous voice, and I turn to see her walking down the hallway. "I had to explain where I’ve been lately."

Had to?

Something inside me tightens, and the air in the room suddenly feels thinner.

For weeks, the weight of my power, the burden of Earth’s safety, and the looming threat of demons have borne down on me. I also feared what might happen—or what people would think—if they knew the truth. Yet, just like that, it has all been revealed over coffee and casual conversation. I feel so shock and betrayed, because that was not her secret to tell.

Looking into Stephanie’s beautiful blue eyes, I cannot help but want to forgive her. But this time... it is harder.

"I take it Stacy knows too?" I ask stiffly.

"Of course I do, you rogue!" Stacy says, entering from the kitchen with a playful grin. If it were not for the switches in my girlfriend, I would never be able to tell the identical twins apart. Well, it helps that Stephanie’s hair is still dyed red, with only the roots showing her natural color. Stacy’s remains its natural shade, framing her face differently.

"Of course," I repeat, running a hand through my hair.

I force a small smile, but my chest feels tight.

Stephanie must have seen it, because she knows me too well.

"We all wanted to talk to you," Stephanie says. I scan the room to find three pairs of serious eyes fixed on me.

This cannot be good, I think.

Stephanie leads me to the couch and has me sit in the middle. The cushions sink slightly under my weight. Mary sits next to me, her leg touching mine in casual contact, while Stacy sits across from me in a matching loveseat. My thoughts are elsewhere, and I barely hear the first part of what Stephanie says. My girlfriend sits on my other side and clasps my hands, looking deep into my eyes as if trying to anchor me.

She told them... and without asking me.

"We’ve been talking," Stephanie says, giving my hands a gentle squeeze. Her fingers are warm. She already knows I am not going to like whatever she is about to say. "We want to help you fight the demons."

Yanking my hands from hers, I almost yell, "What? No! I will not have you getting into any more danger than you already will be just by being on that ship. I would not even let you up there if you hadn’t forced a promise out of me." My voice rises despite myself, edged with fear, anger, and betrayal.

Stephanie looks hurt for a moment before replying, "I did not force it out of you. I just gave you your options, and you chose to be with me." There is quiet strength in her words.

The room grows tense; a pause stretches out between us. Stephanie’s hands, which had been gripping mine earlier, slowly fold into her lap. She looks down for a moment before meeting my eyes again.

"I should have asked you first," she says quietly.

Mary and Stacy both glance at her, surprised. It looks like that was not part of what they rehearsed.

"I was scared," Stephanie continues, her voice softer now. "You have been distant. You have been carrying all of this alone. I didn’t know how to help, and I panicked. They are my sister and my friend—I trust them. But that does not mean I should have spoken for you."

Tears are shimmering in her eyes now, but she refuses to look away.

"I am sorry," Stephanie says sincerely, and the anger that had been simmering in my chest wavers.

"I trusted you with that," I say, my voice lower now.