My phone buzzed in my hand, an unknown number. I almost let it go to voicemail.
“Hello?”
There was a pause.
“It’s me, Ro.”
“You calling me from a burner now, Chief?”
He laughed quietly. Then he was quiet again, longer this time.“Nia, I need you to listen.”
The smile slid off my face at his seriousness.“Okay . . .”
“For a little while, I need you to be careful.”
I leaned against the counter.“Careful how?”
“If anyone asks about us, keep it simple. Simple as we ran into each other. That’s it.”
“Are you asking me to lie?”
“No, I’m asking you not to offer more than what’s asked.”
I closed my eyes.“Why?”
There was more silence on his end.
“Because I don’t want my world touching yours in a way that hurts you.”
I blew out air, tired of this charade.
“So, what are the fuck are we doing?”
After another pause regret threaded through his voice.
“We’re still us. I just need you to move smart for a minute.”
“Okay, I can do smart.”
“Good, I’ll call you soon.”
I stared at my phone long after, unsure why my hands shook. It wasn’t what he said. It was what he didn’t. Ronan wasn’t vagueby nature. He was a deliberate, precise man, whose authority lived in clarity. Whatever he’d held back had weight.
I told myself not to spiral. I was good at spotting fear when it dressed itself up as concern. This hadn’t felt like that. It felt like what my mama warned me against. It felt like things between us were coming to an abrupt stop, and it hurt.
I slid my phone into my bag just as it buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t him. I glanced down at the screen and froze.
Alert: federal “domestic disruptor” database updated.
The notification came from a civil liberties watchdog app I’d installed months ago. My hands trembled while I opened it and scrolled through the update. There was my name, Dr. Nia Price, listed among two dozen activists newly added to the Department of Homeland Security’s “potential disruptors” watchlist.
“What the fuck? I’m a historian, not a terrorist,” I said out loud, and I held the edge of a table to steady myself as the room spun. Panic and anger rushed over me in droves. I scrolled down and read the short explanation next to my name. “Demonstrations with anti-government rhetoric maintain connections with known radical elements, which influence young activists through academic position.”
My teaching. My research. The things I’d devoted my life to were now being used to label me a threat to national security.
“Five minutes, Dr. Price!”
I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe, even though my chest felt tight. This wasn’t the time to fall apart. I’d devoted weeks to preparing for this lecture, and three hundred people were waiting to hear it. The irony of being called a “disruptor” right before this lecture wasn’t lost on me.
