He flinches. “Well—”
“You think I’mupset?”
“You seem upset.”
“You tried to unload a shotgun into my mom.”
Gingerly, he says, “I think you and I can both agree that there were extenuating circumstances.”
“You told Lys about her. That she’s sick.”
“I did. I did do that, and I’m sorry.” He searches her face, his own crumpling when he finds only steely resolve. “Give me a little grace here, Parker. I’m just trying to find Ellie.”
“I want to find Ellie, too,” she snaps. “You have no idea—I’d do anything to get her back. But not like this. You cornered me last night. Youthreatenedme.”
“If we’re going to fight, let’s do it in the room, at least.”
“I don’t want to fight. I want you to leave me alone.”
He cuts her a plaintive look. “I can’t do that.”
“You can. I’ll help.”
She moves to slam the door in his face again, but this time he anticipates. He shoves it back open with ease, bringing them face-to-face in the newly fallen dusk.
“Five minutes,” he says. “That’s all I need.”
“I’ll give you two.”
“Four.”
“Three.”
“Done.” He steps inside and lets the door fall shut behind him with a click. She scuttles back several steps, out of arm’s reach. It’s for his safety, not hers. She’s furious enough to strike at him.
“Where’s Tristan? He was supposed to be standing guard.”
“I sent him away.”
“How?”
“What do you mean, how? I’ve known Choi since he was eating crayons in preschool. I told him to beat it for a few minutes, and he did.”
She glowers up at him. “Get him back.”
“I still have three minutes.”
“It’s two now,” she says. “Not that it matters. There’s seven days until we leave for the Flatwood. Until then, I have nothing to say to you.”
“You have every right to be mad,” he tells her. “I didn’t come here to talk you into forgiving me. I came to tell you that Lysander is posting a watch on your house. I asked if I could go with the first patrol.”
Her anger deepens. “I hope he told you no.”
“I’m heading out as soon as we’re done here,” he says, and flinches back from the expression on her face. “Look, I think it’s safe to say that neither of us could predict how things would play out last night. I came to Mercy Ridge with a Hail Mary, and I had no idea you’d get swept up in it with me. So, as a peace offering, I told Lysander I’d go get your things. I came by to ask if there was anything you’d like me to grab while I’m there.”
“I don’t want you going through my stuff.”
Through the red haze of her anger, she is starkly aware of how mortifying it would be to have Asher Thorley poking through her belongings. Her brain fires off a series of scenarios, each one worse than the one before: Asher rifling through her underwear drawer. Asher flipping through her math notebooks and finding entire pages doodled with his name. Or—perhaps worst of all—Asher uncovering her cookie tin stuffed with unsent letters, every last one addressed to his garrison. Promises made and then broken, before they ever saw the light of day.
