I lift my chin. “I don’t want to look at any more of it.”
What else is there to look at?Bathroom? Billy? Sleep?Suddenly, righteous anger is rising up in me, clean and hot. And it’s…good. Strengthening.
I don’t need to relive any of this. For once, I can put the past behind me to serve myself.
“Okay,” says Jake. “What do you want to do?”
“Delete it.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Permanently.”
“Okay.”
He reaches over and opens a new window and types a command.
“I’m going to let you do it,” he says. “This is your decision. You hit enter here and it will start a secure overwrite. A permanent deletion.”
I reach forward without hesitation and tap the enter key.
I learned young how to pack up my life in a box and start over. In the past, this was a survival skill. Sometimes it meant leaving things behind that I didn’t want to. But this time, I’m using that skill for something better: to choose for myself what I’m better off without.
A progress bar opens up and I watch it crawl forward slowly, the last proof of this violation dying. When the bar hits one hundred percent, the window closes, the folder disappears, andMAXis gone.
“Thank you,” I say, quietly.
“Ugh,” he replies, like the creepiness of it has gotten to him as well, and he throws an arm around my shoulder, pulling me in against him and kissing the top of my head. “Gone,” he says.
I sigh against his skin, and with his free hand, Jake closes the laptop with a soft click and sets it aside on the bedside table. Then he cups the back of my head and kisses my hair.
I’m drinking tea at the kitchen table when Jake’s phone buzzes beside me. Then Wyatt’s, who’s sitting on the kitchen counter eating a protein bar. The sound of buzzing comes from the living room, too, where Damian’s watching TV.
Jake and Wyatt exchange a quick glance and both reach for their phones.
Ryder left yesterday for Washington to meet with their client after three weeks of silence, and they’ve all been waiting for an update since.
“Okay,” says Jake, reading his phone and nodding. He puts it down and looks at Wyatt.
“What is it?” I ask, just as Damian walks into the room.
“How long before we hear something, you think?” he asks the room.
“Maybe twenty-four hours?” suggests Jake, as Wyatt turns to me.
“It’s from Ryder,” he says. “Keystone is moving today.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“It means the indictment’s being unsealed,” explains Jake. “It means they’re done building the case. They’re acting.”
“Whoa.”
It’s hard not to be unsettled the rest of the day. The men check their phones obsessively, and take turns working out with Damian’s equipment downstairs. I make more cups of tea but forget to drink them. We putter around, doing household chores and watching TV and reading, but there’s an expectant energy just under the surface that makes it hard to relax.
By nighttime, I’m watching the news with my head in Wyatt’s lap, my eyes blinking closed as he lazily strokes my hair. We’re watching and pretending we have nothing invested in it, like we might jinx something if we hope to hear any news. We comment on the weather forecast and the local news segments like that’s why we’re really watching.
And then a new banner starts scrolling at the bottom of the screen: BREAKING NEWS.
