“Over here,” Colin urges. The camera turns to show a corkboard covered in photos and more Post-It notes. “Might be something good here.”
Jake steps closer to it. “Shit, there’s a picture of my old coach?—”
“That’s enough,” Mrs. Muldoon snaps. “We need to leave.”
The screen goes black.
I hand the phone back to Jake, my head buzzing. “Fucking hell.”
“After that, we just shut the safe and walked out. Said goodbye to Marty, the security guy, and bailed. Got back in the car with Davis, drove Mrs. Muldoon to her house, and Colin to his car, and now I’m here.”
I picture the stacks of passports, and my stomach knots. “I can’t believe… I mean, I can, but it’s so insane to actually see it.”
“You’re right.” Jake agrees. “I can’t believe his passwords were taped to his desk, but he’s always been a dipshit. Anyway, what did you think of our work?”
“I think,” I say, my mind still on the passports. “that I know where Betty gets her toughness from. Mrs. Muldoon was amazing.”
“She was.” Jake tilts his head. “Just her?”
I laugh as I realise he’s waiting for a compliment he undeniably deserves. “You were amazing, too. You should have been an actor.”
“Pretty enough for it,” he says, scrubbing his nails on his chest.
I’m too impressed to tease him. I lean to kiss his cheek, and he turns to meet my lips with his. We fall back onto the bed, but before we can get into anything good, our phones ping.
“Betty?” I ask.
“Must be.”
We break apart to find matching texts from Betty:
The corkboard was covered in passwords, dates, lists of contacts. Colin’s a gem for getting you to film it, Jake. I think I’ll have enough in the next couple of hours. Stay awake. I’ll call.
Jake grins. “Guess there’s nothing to do but find a way to pass the time...”
“Any ideas?”
His smile fades, and my stomach sinks. I know where he’s about to steer us, and I don’t want to go there, but we can’t dodge the conversation forever. Besides, it’s probably better to iron out the nastinessbeforewe blow Thrasher’s business to shit.
“Hang on.” I grab my vape and crawl back into bed. “Before you say anything, I owe you an apology.”
“Baby, you’re the one who deserves?—”
I raise my vape like a stop sign, and he goes quiet.
“I do. You’re not perfect, but neither am I. Something I conveniently forgot when I was screaming about how you’re the worst person on earth.”
He laughs.
“I do wish you’d been my friend at school. And I do wish you hadn’t gone near Jenny, but I can’t pretend I didn’t make things bad between us. I know I can be difficult and stubborn and hard to get close to?—”
“You’re not. You’re perfect. Incredible, smart, brave?—”
“Don’t.” A sob catches in my throat. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you love me. I’m saying I’m a red-blooded, Italian, Autistic woman, and I don’t make it easy sometimes. On purpose and by accident. But nothing about that is your fault. Or anyone else’s fault.”
Jake pulls me into his chest, and I let myself relax into him.
“I think it might be at least a little bit your parents’ fault, baby. Not to talk out of line.”
