They’re dissecting.
“Well,” he says, “I should let you get back to work. I’m sure this is a difficult time for everyone.”
“Yes. Very difficult.”
I back toward the door, my heart pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it.
“Mary?”
I freeze again, hand on the doorframe.
He leans forward slightly, voice lower now. “If you think of anything—anything at all that might help us understand what Dave was working on before he passed—you’ll let me know, won’t you?”
It’s phrased like a question. But it doesn’t sound like one.
“Of course,” I whisper.
Then I’m out the door, closing it behind me with hands that are shaking so badly I can barely grip the handle.
I make it three steps down the hallway before my knees give out. I lean against the wall, pressing my palm to my chest, trying to slow my breathing.
Breathe, Mary. Just breathe.
That was bad. Really bad. My first attempt, and I already blew it.
God, Anton’s going to—
I glance up.
The breakroom blinds are half open, facing the hallway. And there, just outside—
Caleb.
Leaning against the wall like he’s waiting for someone. Watching me.
His smile is still there.
But it doesn’t reach his eyes.
It never did.
I drop my gaze and turn my body away, pretending to dig through the drawers for coffee filters that probably expired in 2009. It’s all I can do to keep the panic at bay.
I press my hand against my thigh, lips barely moving.
“I’ll try again later,” I whisper, just loud enough for Anton to hear.
Because Caleb’s still watching. Listening. Filing me away.
And the worst part?
He knows exactly who I am.
Not the version I try to be. Not the scared girl pretending to be helpful. He saw right through all of it.
My face burns.
He knows I’m the kind of woman who laughs when people mock her. Who doesn’t speak up. Who plays nice. Who’s easy to overlook.
