For my parents.
For my teachers.
For my friends.
For my lovers.
No one needs a headache like me.
Boone reaches for me, and I slap his hand away. He pulls it back and looks at me, stunned.
A jiu-jitsu slap is no fucking joke.
“Sorry I’m so complicated,” I spit out, the words bitter on my tongue. “Let me simplify it for you.”
I slip into my car and slam the door shut while I punch the Start button.
The motor purrs, and I hit the gas. The takeoff is smooth, whisper-quiet, and I’m at the stop sign before either of them has a chance to react.
A text from Liam appears on my in-dash screen.
Liam: I’m so sorry. I forgot I asked you to drop off food.
Because otherwise you’d’ve never told me.
I turn off the display and silence my phone. I don’t wanna talk to any-fucking-body right now.
By the time I hit the frontage road, I realize how easy it is for anyone in my family to find me. I’m surrounded by tech; probably got half a dozen satellites on me. I turn onto a side street and park on a tree-lined avenue with tons of cars. The bracelet and phone are easy enough to toss into the cup holder, but I turn back and leave my wallet behind as well.
I wore sensible trainers for the concrete flooring at the foundry, and I quickly decide that’s the only mode of transportation I need. And then I curse my fucking existence because even my shoes have trackers in them.
I sit on the curb, take off one shoe, and lift the insole, revealing a wafer-thin disk about a quarter inch in diameter. I peel that off and repeat the process on the other shoe. People are starting to look. My reality is that someone is eventually going to recognize me, so I get moving.
After taking the long way around and doubling back a few times, I make my way to Taylor’s apartment. I’m pretty sure she hasn’t moved out yet, and I know she’ll let me hang with her until I can figure my shit out.
She opens the door, her eyes wide. “Maverick? Are you okay? Why does it look like you jogged here?”
I let myself into her apartment, and there are moving boxes everywhere. “Because I jogged here.”
“Make yourself at home,” she cracks, gesturing at her old recliner, the only piece of furniture not packed away. Her face quickly goes serious again. “Did something happen?”
I drop onto the recliner and put my head between my knees. “Remember the hot cop who arrested me?”
“Yes. Mostly because you haven’t acknowledged my existence since then.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
I take several more deep breaths, willing my heart rate to come down out of the ceiling.
“I take it all of your pining finally led somewhere? Or didn’t?”
“Mostlyor didn’t.”
“What happened?”
“He lied about who he was to get close to someone else in my family.”
Even now, I’m keeping secrets.
