“Then stay. Help Jansen feel a little normal. Just for tonight.”
I should. I don’t want to, but I should. Following Walker into the bedroom Jansen and Emma have turned into a living room, while the actual living room is a nasty mess downstairs, I find the cushions we snuck over from Jansen’s meditation area scattered across the floor. A laptop is set up with a cardboard box as a TV stand.
Jansen comes in with a swagger and dark features, Emma following with a rueful grin. He scoops up a cushion and plops down in front of the screen. “I look like a villain now,” he says, not bothering with figuring out what conversation was already happening.
Luckily, this room is full of people used to his tangents.
“Sure do,” I answer for the group. I could pass Jansen on the street, and even knowing it’s him, it’d take me a minute to place his face.
“Then I’m ready to get back to work. Put me in, coach.”
“Jay, I’m not sure you’re well enough for that,” Walker says.
He shakes his head. “Listen. I’ve got my first therapy appointment this week. The psychiatrist has to be delayed, as that has to be under my real name, but my drugs seem to beworking. I’m sleeping, like, twelve hours a day, but otherwise, I’m stable. I’ve even made another secret appointment. Trust me. I’m good.”
“You were on the roof a few days ago,” Emma points out.
“For fun. Not for dangerous reasons,” he retorts. “And the longer I’m cooped up in here, the less likely I am to keep it together.”
Walker and I exchange a look. “What’s this secret appointment?” I ask.
He grins. “It’s a gift for Clara. You don’t need to worry—I’m not bringing it to her. I’m saving it for when she’s back with us.”
Well, that’s good. “If you think you’re ready…”
“Trust me, I’m more than ready. Now, tell me about every moment Clara was in your sight this week. You’ve got to tide me over until I get my chance to see her.”
“And that’s my cue to leave,” Emma says. “I’ll heat some food. If you guys are staying?”
Walker looks at me, and after a moment, I nod.
This may not feel like it’s helping, but it is. We need Jansen. Jansen needs this.
And as the night wears on, all of us agreeing to watch a spy thriller in honor of Clara and our nebulous plan, it’s clear that maybe I needed a night off as well.
Chapter 20
Clara
As the weeks go by, there’s a hole growing in my chest. It’s getting bigger, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from breaking apart into tiny, angry piles of longing.
I’ve seen Walker and RJ every time I’m on campus, but when they approach, I have to call them off, the guards suspicious of their proximity. If it weren’t for Trips beside me on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I’d have already crumbled.
A week after Trips was let out, Falk lets Trips receive a drop, and the jolt of jealousy eats at me like a maggot on a rotting steak.
I want that drop. I want to feel the electric touch of one of my loves, even if it’s just for a moment. One minute that I can hold on to as I dive deeper into the dungeon of Trips’ childhood home.
It’s hell. I might be free to wander, but in exchange, Trips’ dad has been calling me more often to eat with him, or to havecoffee, or to tour the art gallery. That one burned as he set up a little table across from the Rubens and insisted we drink tea—neither one of us touched the cups—while he continued his effort to ‘get to know my new daughter-in-law.’
It’s a joke. He’s digging for dirt on me. On the guys. And every time, I let drop the tiniest morsels about our weaknesses. Like how Jansen needs to live life on the edge to feel alive. Or how Walker has to feel superior to feel secure. Or the way RJ can get so lost in his work that he loses track of everything else.
Breadcrumbs.
I hate it.
But it’s necessary.
I’m never going to get this monster to like me. That ship has sailed. Instead, I’ve got to play the part of a girl who thinks she knows what she’s doing but is in over her head.
