Free True Colors by Joyce Lamb

car wasn’t moving anymore. Alex wiped her eyes and raised her head, saw that they were parked behind her Jeep in Charlie’s driveway.
    Charlie handed her a handful of Kleenex and said nothing as Alex blew her nose. She’d cried for a long time, and Charlie hadn’t said a word, driving in silence while Alex’s world crumbled.
    “I’m sorry,” Alex whispered, her voice thick and ragged.
    Charlie blew her own nose, and Alex realized she hadn’t been crying alone.
    “How do you do it?” Alex asked.
    “I try to avoid contact as much as I can. You’ll become more aware of your personal space and learn how to anticipate what other people are going to do so you can protect yourself from unexpected contact. You’ll get used to it.”
    “You’re so casual about it. How is that possible?”
    “I’ve had some time to adjust,” Charlie said. “You’ll adjust, too. AnnaCoreen sent me to a friend of hers, a doctor. She prescribed some drugs that help blunt some of the more . . . intense stuff.”
    “I don’t want to take a bunch of drugs.”
    “I know. Neither do I.” Charlie paused and took a breath. “Alex, you need to pay close attention to how you feel after an . . . episode.”
    “Episode,” Alex repeated with a disbelieving snort. “That’s a nice way to put it. Like it’s a TV show to look forward to. Next on My Empathic Life : Our distraught heroine jumps off the nearest bridge only to be rescued by a firefighter who’s recently recovered from being nearly burned to death in a fire where he failed to save a family of four.”
    “That’s a disturbingly detailed scenario,” Charlie said dryly.
    Alex gave a hollow laugh that choked off at the end. “I can’t do this, Charlie. I really can’t. Even with drugs. I’m . . . I’m . . .” She couldn’t think of a word strong enough.
    “What?” Charlie prodded. “You’re what?”
    “Tired.” That wasn’t even close to describing the leaden weight of exhaustion that bore down on her, but it was all she could come up with. “I’m just really, really tired.”
    “That’s probably your version of flash fatigue. You need to sleep and recharge.”
    “Recharge, huh? So I can be drained all over again like a battery?”
    “You’ll get through this,” Charlie said. “I get through it, and you’re a lot stronger than I am. Trust me.”
    That surprised Alex. “Why would you think I’m stronger?”
    “You just let yourself fall apart while I sat right next to you. That took more strength than holding it in would have.”
    “Your ability to spin my blubbering breakdown into something positive is astounding.”
    Charlie shrugged. “Your ability to form a coherent sentence after what you’ve been through today is astounding.”
    Alex clenched her fist around the balled-up Kleenex, and the small cut in her palm twinged. “AnnaCoreen. Something . . . terrible happened to her.”
    Charlie gave a grim nod, her lips drawn tight. “I kind of figured.”
    “You were right about her, though. I’m sorry I was so skeptical.”
    “The first time I went to see her, I was just as dubious.”
    “Does Noah know?” Alex couldn’t imagine how Logan would react. Like Noah, he was an analytical cop. Everything had a reasonable explanation. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself anyway. Maybe she and Logan would go out once, and that’d be it. He’d never have to find out.
    “Yeah, Noah knows,” Charlie said.
    “And he’s okay with it?”
    “He doesn’t have much choice, really. It’s part of me. Are you worried about Logan?”
    Alex nodded.
    “Have you gotten empathic hits off him?”
    “Only once that I was aware of. Right after he saved the girl in that wreck.”
    “So it was an immediate trauma that you flashed on. That’s similar to what happens with mine. Maybe your empathy reacts differently to different people. I mean, that makes sense, right? No one’s body chemistry is exactly the same. With Logan, maybe you’ll flash only on