All gone.
“I’m beginning to understand the full scope, yes.”
“Dylan, stop talking like a fucking paralegal and—” She cuts herself off. Someone must have walked by her desk. Then quieter, almost whispering: “Six days.”
“I know.”
“No. Listen to me.” That fierce quality enters her voice. The one from when we were twelve and she promised to be my dandelion. The one that means she’s scared but refusing to show it. “Six days until you’re alone in a room with him. Six days to figure out what this means. Six days to?—”
“I understand the timeline.” My voice stays level. Calm. Even though my heart is hammering.
“Twilight Wednesday night?”
“Yes.”
“I’m bringing the good wine. The one we’re saving for something special.”
“That’s not necess?—”
“We’re drinking it. Because if your boss is assigning you to a potential murder client, and you have to see that is who it is, we’re drinking the good wine. The expensive wine. The wine we said we’d only open when one of us got married or died and honestly this feels closer to the death option.”
I almost laugh. Almost. “Understood.”
“Dylan?”
“Yes?”
“I love you. And we’re going to figure this out. I promise. We’re going to?—”
My throat closes. I have to force the words out professionally, like she just confirmed a meeting time. Like she didn’t just promise to save me. “Acknowledged. Thank you.”
Silence. Then softer: “You’re killing me with the paralegal voice.”
“Noted.”
The line clicks dead.
I set the receiver back carefully. Precisely. The way Dylan Wells would. Not too fast, not too slow. Normal movements. Professional movements.
Around me, the third floor hums. Janet laughs at something on her phone. The printer jams again. Someone swears. Normal Monday sounds.
I pull up my texts. She’s already sent one.
Alex: That was torture having to hear your robot voice
Me: Sorry
Alex: Don’t be sorry. Be safe. Six days.
Me: Six days
I minimize the texts. Look around the third floor with new eyes. Really look.
Half the cubicles are empty.
The walls feel closer suddenly. The lights too bright. My cubicle that used to feel safe now feels like a cage I didn’t see being built around me.
One bar at a time.
