Eddie runs a hand down his face and, to my relief, nods.“We’ll do it your way.We’ll set a slow plan and I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
When the call ends, I look at him.“Are we safe here?”
He meets my eyes.“Yes.”
“Then why call security?”I ask.
He presses a thumb against a paper on his desk.“We need to make sure nobody is tailing her brothers.Dorian could be watching everyone.He’s trying to find her.”
“What are we going to do to keep her safe?”The question sits like a stone in my throat.
“Arthur and I are making plans,” he says.“Until we know the safest way to move, we lie low.”
There should be relief—because there’s a plan.Instead, the waiting tastes bitter.Even with a green light, we don’t know if normal will ever be hers again.
“Call Roderick and Kit,” he says.“See if they can visit in the next couple of months.”
“Can we even tell them she’s here?”
He shakes his head.“Not yet.But you can use Thanksgiving or Christmas as cover.See what their plans are and if they could come.”
I fumble for my phone, then remember this place runs on a corded line.No wireless.The cellphone towers don’t make it all the way out here.We could use the satellite, but that’s just for emergencies.The corded phone in his office is.We live like it’s 1989 for a reason.I put the handset to my ear and dial Rod’s main number.Kit answers on the second ring, bright and immediate.There’s a baby cooing in the background—Arlo.
“Bear?”she says.Her voice is sunlight through a window.“You’re finally back—where did you guys go this time?”
I glare at Eddie—fuck, when he makes up stories, he should at least warn me—then force a joke.“If Eddie didn’t tell you, sweetheart, I can’t.You know how secretive he is.”
She laughs.“Sometimes I swear he’s in some government thing.Other times I think he’s just full of bullshit.”
“It’s the bullshit, Kit.Never think otherwise,” I joke.“So ...I was thinking.Could you two come for the holidays?Maybe Thanksgiving?We haven’t seen Arlo in a few weeks.”
There’s a hum and a groan and then, “We’re hoping to have everyone for Thanksgiving at the farm—including you two,” she says.“I just wish Cleo could be there.”
God, how I wish I could tell her Cleo is safe here, that she’s already among people who would move anything for her.I close my eyes for a beat.Then come up with something close to the truth but not a lie.“We’ll plan it right, Kitty Kat.Your place, ours ...we can decide once we’re closer.”
“Okay,” Kit says.“Keep me posted.”
I hang up and tell Eddie, “She’s in.She wants us for Thanksgiving, but I told her we’ll make the decision on where we’ll meet later.”
He lets that sit between us, like a fragile thing.“It won’t be easy,” he says.“Bringing several people might increase the risk of getting caught.”
“I have faith you’ll fix it,” I say, not to butter him up, but because I believe in him.
When Eddie sets a goal, he moves like a man who knows how to make impossible things happen.
He rubs the bridge of his nose.“I’ll see what I can do.But don’t tell Cleo yet, understood?”
I nod, then add because I’m tired of pretending.“And don’t introduce us like—‘my partner and I.’I’m not ready for that.”
Eddie opens his mouth and hesitates.The truth hangs awkward between us.“We can wait on labels,” I say.“Right now it’s about her.”
“It’s so fucking hard,” he admits.
“I know,” I say.I shrug.The motion is small and brittle.“None of this is easy for any of us.If you had it your way, you would’ve fixed it yesterday morning and hope that we’d be walking toward the sunset.It’s hard, but maybe that makes it worth doing.”
We stand in his office, trying to create a new everything, including rules.Learning how to move without tripping alarms, how to love without swallowing each other whole.Outside, the fog keeps pretending it might clear.That’s probably what we have to do: pretend everything will be fine and that’ll have to be enough for today.
ChapterSeven
