Blank Slate

Chapter 128 - Payton Taylor

When we reached the car in the Whistler parking lot, Christopher got in the driver's seat and I had zero problems letting him drive. I was more focused on what needed to be done next to really care about food but took the bag of fast food that Christopher handed me after he finished paying for both of our meals. I was so lost in thought that I didn't even remember if he asked me what I wanted or if he had just ordered for me, but when I looked inside of my bag I saw that he had gotten me a ham and cheese breakfast croissant. Exactly what I would have ordered if I had been paying attention.

For a second, the idea of him caring enough about me and paying enough attention to me to actually know what to order for me warmed my insides and cleared a hole in the emotional fog still surrounding me. But then I reminded myself not to get distracted. Finding out a way to ensure that Benjamin Cross kept his mouth shut was my one and only priority right now. Or maybe that was wrong - Cross was number one on my list, closely followed by Cole, and then at some point, I needed to figure out what the hell I was going to do about this fucking Whistler team. Because one thing was for sure - I couldn't keep living like this. I didn't think I would be able to stay sane in this environment.

As I methodically ate my breakfast, I directed Christopher to Cross's house and told him to park three doors down and across the street. He had no trouble maneuvering the car into the exact place I would have parked and I reminded myself that he might just be more experienced at spying on someone that I have. I reached into the back seat and retrieved the black backpack that I had placed there earlier. Then I fished out the infrared camera and started messing with the settings so that we would be able to see if Cross was inside of his house and roughly what he was doing.

"And where did that come from?" Christopher asked, sounding impressed instead of judgmental.

"I found and raided Cole's personal stock of gear and supplies while you were in the shower," I admitted without a trace of guilt. The fact that I was having to go after Cross right now was one hundred percent Cole's fault. He had been the one to hire the former CIA analysis to dig up dirt on my past. I figured he more than owed me the use of some of his more expensive and useful gadgets.

Christopher cleared his throat and I looked over to see him looking like he was struggling to keep his face straight. Why would he think any part of this was funny? I connected a telephoto lens and pointed the camera towards Cross's house and started looking for heat signatures. I found one in what I assumed was the kitchen and it looked like he was sitting at his table. There was no additional heat signature to indicate he was on a computer or that anyone else was in the house. Everything but him and a slight flare on the counter that looked like a coffee pot was reading at ambient temperatures.

"So umm, do you want to talk about what just happened?" Christopher asked when he saw that we were going to have to wait for Cross to leave his house before searching it.

"What do you mean," I said in a distracted tone, the majority of my focus on Cross.

"You just walked in and stopped a fight where Ezra was getting his ass kicked. I sort of expected you to just walk by because that asshole deserves to be punched after what he did to you. But instead, you stopped it without a single hesitation. Why?"

"Ezra getting punched isn't going to change what happened or how either of us feels about the situation," I said with my eyes still trained on the infrared camera, but not really seeing what was on the screen. My attention had been retargeted to Christopher and this conversation. "He is a part of this team, and despite what you guys may think about me, the very last thing I want is for any of you to get hurt."

Christopher was quiet for a moment as if he was carefully considering what he wanted to say next. "Because his dad always physically punished him and he internalized that method of atoning for his wrongdoings, Ezra actually seeks out fights and pain when he is feeling guilty."

I had pretty much figured out as much that first week in Cuba when I had pulled Ezra out of that club, but I liked that Christopher was explaining things to me instead of just assuming I knew what was going on with the people around me. It made me feel like he was making a real effort to include me. "Would you have just walked by and let those men hurt Ezra?" I asked because to me it was simple. Someone was being hurt and I had the ability to stop it, so I stopped it. I was curious to see what Christopher thought of as normal.

"No," Christopher said right off. "But Ezra hadn't just crossed some huge fucking lines with me. I can honestly say that if he had done to me what he had done to you, I don't know if I would be as forgiving and helpful as you. I don't think I am as good of a person as you, I mean I was the one punching him just yesterday and I was still learning the details."

"Why did you punch him?" I questioned because I really was curious about the motives behind his actions. Almost everyone I had grown up with was quick to physical violence but mostly, they were irrevocably evil people. I didn't think any of the men on the Whistler team were evil like the mobsters within The Family were, but they did react similarly in certain situations and I wanted to understand why. Was the path to becoming evil a slippery slope? Had the men that had grown to enjoy hurting me as a child started out like Christopher who only hurt people when he felt justified?

Christopher turned in his seat so that his shoulders were completely facing me like if he knew just how invested I was in his answer and was giving the situation the appropriate consideration. "I think it is a guy thing," he said and I felt my brow furrow in confusion. "Us boys are complete shit at expressing our emotions, and sometimes using our fists can be our most direct and honest form of communication. It is archaic and probably leftover from our less evolved days, but it is sometimes our first instinct. Ezra did something horrible to you and I was extremely upset with him. My response was to lash out physically."

I glanced down at the camera screen to see that Cross was still sitting at the table as I contemplated what he had just implied. That as animals, the most direct and impactful form of communication was through physical dominance. That by fighting, they were just acting on their most basic urges. Did that mean that for some people, degrading and hurting others was one of their basic urges?

I was drawn out of my musings as Christopher reached out and placed his flat palm on the console between us. I glanced down at his hand, trying to understand the purpose of him placing it there, and then looked up into his eyes when no logical answer came to mind. I saw worry and something else that I couldn't identify in his clear blue eyes and I found myself held in place by them. "I would never do that to you," he said with an honest vulnerability ringing through.

"Do what?" I asked, completely lost as to where this conversation was going.

"I will never hit you. Not out of anger. Not out of frustration. Not for any reason," Christopher said and I couldn't help but stare at him. Could he really be telling me the truth right now?

"What?" I repeated in a small disbelieving whisper.

"I will admit that part of it is sexist because I don't believe in hitting women in general. But I need you to know that I feel what I am vowing you on a visceral level. I would choose to take a bullet than to ever hurt you. I know I have already fucked up so many times with you. I know that I have already hurt you with the shit I have said to you, but I swear that doing so haunts my thoughts. I will do anything to protect you, I will never physically harm you, and I am going to my very best not to act like an asshole to you again," Christopher promised in a fiercely passionate voice.

I sat there stunned, having no idea what to say to that. Other than the time that Oliver promised to always have my back as long as I always came to him, this was the kindest thing anyone had ever said to me. If I could believe him, if he was telling the truth - then this was huge. If I could exist next to people without the fear of them turning on me, of using me, of hurting me, then maybe I could cobble together some semblance of a normal life. 

I scanned Christopher's face and couldn't help but see the resemblance to Oliver at this moment. I knew down to my bones that I could trust Oliver. Maybe it wasn't inconceivable that I would be able to trust his brother too.