I shouldn't.
I really shouldn't.
I pull it open.
Inside, a stack of letters. All addressed to Maya Lynch. All in Carter's handwriting.
I don't read them, that crosses a line even for me, but I see enough to understand. He writes to her regularly. Long letters, not just texts. Old-fashioned correspondence. The kind of thing someone does when they're trying to maintain connection with someone who needs it.
I close the drawer carefully and leave the apartment.
On the walk back to campus, I think about everything I've learned today.
Carter Lynch is not who I thought he was. He's more complicated. More thoughtful. More-
No. I'm not going there.
This is a professional assignment. Nothing more.
But that night, instead of writing my usual cynical observations in my notebook, I write questions:
What if I was wrong about him?What if the culture is changing and I just couldn't see it?What if the story is more complicated than villains and victims?
And the most dangerous question of all.
What if I'm starting to respect Carter Lynch?
I close my notebook before I can answer that one.
Because respect is a slippery slope and I'm already on unstable ground.
Chapter 4
Carter
She took the thesis.
I come back from practice to find my apartment exactly as I left it except the manuscript is gone and the coffee mug is washed and left in the sink.
Lennox Hayes washed my dishes.
It's such a small thing. Unnecessary. But it suggests she's not just a journalist extracting information. She's a person who respects spaces she's been welcomed into.
I shouldn't find that charming, but I do anyway.
My phone buzzes. Tyler.
Tyler:Heard the journalist was at your place. You hooking up with the enemy?
Me:Interview. Professional. And stop calling her the enemy.
Tyler:She wrote a hit piece about us. What else would you call her?
Me:Doing her job.
Tyler:You're going soft, Cap.
I don't respond, just drop my bag and collapse on the couch where Lennox was sitting a few hours ago.
