“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“I’m serious, Wyatt. Nina’s been through a lot. You’ve been through a lot. And now Chris is in the mix too, which… Just be careful.”
My throat tightens. Mason’s one of the few people who saw what losing Nina did to me. “Any advice?”
“Be honest with her. And with yourself about why you’re really going.” He takes a breath. “Also, maybe give her a heads up before you just show up. She deserves that much.”
I can’t argue with that. “I’m calling her after this.”
“Good man.” Mason’s tone shifts, becomes more practical. “Listen, where are they putting you up?”
“They mentioned Agency housing.”
“Fuck that. We’ve got a loft over the garage. It’s furnished, private entrance, better coffee maker than anything the Agency would give you.”
The offer catches me off guard. “Mason, I don’t want to impose?—”
“You’re not. It’s empty anyway. Plus Callie will be thrilled to have you close by. Wednesday’s barbecue night—come by after you get in.”
I hear Callie’s voice in the background, something about making sure I know I’m expected.
“Tell her I’ll be there,” I say, the knot in my chest loosening slightly. At least I’ll have friends nearby.
“Perfect. Bring beer if you want anything better than Modelo.”
“Copy that.”
“See you Wednesday.”
He hangs up without fanfare, and I appreciate the simplicity of it. No questions about why the sudden move, no probing about what’s really going on. Just practical support from someone who gets that sometimes the job moves you around.
Wednesday barbecue. At least that’s something concrete to look forward to, even if the thought of all of us in the same space makes my head spin.
My phone buzzes. A text from Nina, sent twenty minutes ago.
NINA: Just wanted you to know—Chris is in LA. Showed up at my office today.
WYATT: I know. I heard the whole thing on today’s session recordings.
The typing indicator appears, then disappears. Then appears again. Nothing comes through for almost a minute.
NINA: Right. I didn’t realize you’d have access to everything.
WYATT: I’m sorry. I thought you knew.
NINA: It’s okay. It makes sense, all things considered.
WYATT: Actually, there’s something else. I’m being reassigned to LA. Was just about to call you to tell you.
The typing indicator appears again, then stops. Then my phone rings.
“Wyatt.” Her voice is careful, controlled.
“Hey. Listen, there’s more. You’ll be getting a call in the morning about it, but Dawson agreed to let me tell you first.” I pause. “Are you somewhere we can talk freely?”
“Hold on.” I hear movement, a door opening and closing. “I’m on the back patio of the residential side now. Normal security cameras but no mics.”
“They’re elevating the operation to priority status. Moving you from consultant to embedded specialist. Your first session today—you got Flores and Amador to open up in ways nobody expected. The brass is impressed.”
