Free Sex by Francine Pascal

father. A horrific method of coping he’d apparently taught her by example: Detach yourself from people, and people don’t get hurt. One more mistake to add to his list.
    â€œI just can’t stand the thought of them fighting,” he said, staring down at the table. “She’s already lost Mary Moss and Sam Moon. I think Ed’s the last friend she’s got. And God knows she doesn’t have her
father.
I know that’s what she thinks.”
    Tom tossed his notebook down on the splintered wood table and began to rub his tired eyes with his palms. He generally did everything in his power to keep all forms of negativity at bay, as it was enormously counterproductive. But the last few days had chiseled away at his defenses to the point where he’d allowed himself to appear this unprofessional in front of Natasha. It was shameful.
    He knew his brother had given Gaia some kind of potentially harmful drug, and there had been nothing he could do about it. He knew Gaia was falling further and further into a solitary world, and he had no control over it. Not only were his failures as a father showing more clearly each day, but Tom was seriously beginning to wonder just what would be left of the warm, ebullient daughter he’d known when all of this was over.
If
it was ever over.
    Meanwhile, Tom had been so deeply ensconced inrubbing his eyes with uncharacteristic self-pity that he hadn’t noticed that Natasha had pulled her chair much closer to his to comfort him. He didn’t even realize she was there until he felt her hand on his right shoulder.
    â€œI thought the
Russians
were worriers,” she joked, massaging his shoulder. “You must trust that things will work out. Gaia will be okay. We will
all
be okay. You must trust me, Tom.”
    Once again Tom was struck with the immediate, impulse to pull his shoulder from Natasha’s kind touch. And once again tonight, he didn’t move a muscle. Tonight he was simply too weak to resist or pretend that it didn’t soothe him.
    â€œI just can’t have her living a solitary life,” he said, bombarded with images of Gaia all grown up, living in the thousands of hotel rooms and classified locations where Tom had spent the majority of his life after Katia had died. “I can’t have it.”
    Natasha cupped his chin in her hand and turned his face to hers, examining his eyes.
“Hmmm,”
she huffed.
    â€œWhat?” Tom asked, doing his best not to be mesmerized once again by her kind eyes.
    â€œThis life you fear for Gaia,” she said. “I think maybe it is
your
life you are speaking of, uh? This solitary life…”
    She was also quite perceptive. “Is it that obvious?” he asked.
    â€œBut Tom, is it not also obvious that…” Natashastopped herself and pulled her hand from his face. “I’m… I’m sorry,” she breathed as she began to pull her chair back.
    But something took hold of Tom’s will. Maybe it was his weakened state or just a bout of temporary insanity—or temporary sanity, he wasn’t sure which. Or perhaps it was just a sudden burst of plain old-fashioned yearning. Whatever it was, something made Tom reach out his arm and grab her chair before she could pull away.
    â€œWait,” he said. “What were you going to say?”
    â€œNo, it’s all right,” she gasped. “I didn’t mean to—”
    â€œPlease,” he interrupted. “I want to know what you were going to say. Really.”
    For one fraction of a moment Natasha looked as openly shy as a five-year-old child. Her eyes widened, and her confident professional demeanor simply fell away.
    This beautiful, professional woman, with one of the most dangerous and deceptive jobs on earth, had somehow managed to preserve some aspect of her innocence. And when it revealed itself, it was a beautiful sight. Beautiful in every sense of the word. In those