That makes me grin. “Or maybe I can recognize the signs of a girl who thinks she doesn’t deserve someone who puts her first because no one else ever has.”
Nicole looks like I’ve slapped her.
“Maybe I was her, too,” I add, before she goes back on the defensive.
Sucking her lips in, she digests my words for a few seconds. “Cute, charming, self-aware, and eloquent. Damn, girl. You’re the complete package.”
I beam, almost more excited by the source of the compliment than the words themselves. “Want to hear the most freeing thing my therapist ever told me?” At her nod, I continue, “You have to trust other people when they tell you how they feel—because you’re not a mind reader and they have no right to expect you to be.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I draw an immediate parallel to my situation with Wesley. He’s told me how he feels—he lied about the situation, but never about that. I’ve always known exactly how he feels about me. He didn’t tell me why he was so obsessed with keeping me safe, but he never lied about wanting to do it. That’s… not a lot, but it’s something. It’s a start.
She looks away. After a few seconds, her voice is hoarse as she says, “I think I need the name of your therapist.”
I lean forward and grab her hand, squeezing it. “You’re gonna love Dr. Cora. She does virtual appointments.”
Nicole sniffles and wipes a tear with her free hand, then squeezes mine back. “I’m so glad you’re here, Madison.”
I’m so glad you’re here.
I sit back, reeling. Such a simple phrase, but has anyone ever said it to me before? Sure, I think it’s implied with family—my Abuela is certainly glad to have me around—but family has an expectation and obligation. It’s different when it comes from a friend. It hits different when it’s someone who doesn’thaveto choose you and chooses you anyway.
What would happen if I… chose her back? Not just her, but all of them? Could I? Is that something I’m allowed to do? Is a place in this odd little family something I’m allowed to want?
I don’t know what’s going to happen after we take down the General. Presumably, without a boss or a job holding them together, things will change. Will the group fall apart? Go their separate ways?
Will Mac and Eleanor leave to start their happily ever after?
What will Nicole and Dimitri do about the Russians on their backs? What will they do about Tío, and the part he played in it?
Worry curls in my gut, and I feel the dread creep up the back of my throat. Fuck. I can’t let her leave without telling her about Tío—I don’t want to undo anything we’ve built, but I’ll feel like such an asshole if she finds out later and feels betrayed because I didn’t say something when I had the chance.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” I hedge, withdrawing my hand in case she needs physical space when I break the news.
“That Felix is your uncle?” she guesses.
My jaw falls. Bunch of damn mind readers in this house… “Uh… Yes?”
“Dimitri told me.” Her eyes drop back to her stomach, and I feel my whole body tense and go cold. She’s so hard to read. “Honestly, I’m kind of relieved. I’m a nurse. I’m a healer. I don’t want things to end in bloodshed unnecessarily.”
It’s like a weight being lifted off my shoulders, and I breathe a deep sigh. “Good. Me either.”
“Well, maybe with you involved… they don’t have to. Maybe there’s another path? I don’t know enough about it, but I think you do.”
I nod, feeling at once both humbled and intimidated by her faith in me. Is this what it feels like to bein? To feel like people trust you and believe in you? It’s a lot of pressure, but it’s also kind of motivating.
“I think I can figure something out,” I assure her.
“Good.” She slides off her stool and heads for the fridge. “Hungry? I’m feeling snacky; we could split one of those prepped meals.”
“Um… Okay, don’t get me wrong… I’m still pinching myself about the five-star meals every night—but sometimes I just want…”
“Junk?” Nicole guesses with a glint in her eye. “I think I know where Wesley keeps his stash.”
I groan, rolling my eyes back for effect. “Goddess. Lead the way!”
We find several bags of chips in the back of a cabinet I would have needed a step stool for. We finish the Doritos, sitting on the floor of the pantry and swapping stories. She’s got some awesome, gnarly medical anecdotes from working in the ER, and she’s fascinated by my history and how I got into hacking and how that led into becoming an informant.
As she heads back to bed, I can’t keep the grin off my face.
