“Right,” I say, remembering that I did know this. I turn to stare out the window. A finch jumps up onto the sill and studies me, and I’m reminded of robot-birds. “I’m assuming the girls didn’t answer her questions.”
Warner takes a sip of his coffee, watching me. My heart,traitorous asshole, kicks into high gear. The back of my neck prickles. Damn. It’s a good thing I’m already sweaty.
Honestly, I’ve been trying not to think about Rosabelle.
Every time I look at my watch I’m trying not to think about Rosabelle. I’ve been trying not to replay the horrors of yesterday’s fiasco on a loop, trying not to remember how I managed to make a serial killer cry by feeding her lunch. I broke her, and I don’t even know how I did it. It makes me sick to my stomach.
I know she’s technically a horrible person. I know this. I’ve got the scar on my neck to prove it. But no one breaks down crying trying to eat a piece of chicken unless they’re carrying serious pain. And the fact that I’m going to be alone with her day after day, forced to mine her for information—to break her again—in pursuit of her deepest, darkest secrets, makes me feel even shittier. And then, of course, I feel shitty for feeling shitty, because at the end of the day it doesn’t matter how much she cries. I’m going to do what’s best for my family, for my people.
Fuck The Reestablishment.
“Good,” says Warner, picking up his coffee cup again. “Just checking.”
“Hey,” I say, stunned. “Don’t eavesdrop on my feelings.”
“You smell,” he says, tapping his tablet back to life.
I ignore this and peer over his shoulder. I catch a glimpse of a header that readsSector 52, A Brief Historybefore he turns the tablet face down.
“So what’s all this?” I ask, nodding to the stack of files beside him.“What are you researching?”
He doesn’t even lift his head when he says, “You haven’t earned the right to know.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I frown. “Wait—are you doing Rosabelle recon?”
“Obviously.” He takes another sip of his coffee.
“And you’re not going to loop me in?”
“You don’t have the necessary security clearance. Now leave me alone.”
“Are you joking?” I go slack. “This is a joke, right? You put me back on her case—I’m supposed to head over to the rehab facility in a few hours—and you’re not even going to prep me?”
Now he looks up, confused. “I left two binders on your desk last night.”
“Oh,” I say, hesitating. “I thought that was, like, optional reading.”
Warner closes his eyes on a controlled sigh, and when he opens his eyes again he looks mutinous. “You didn’t read any of it?”
This is my cue to leave.
I can feel a lecture brewing the way some people can smell rain in the air. “I’m, um— Actually, I was going to go read it right now.”
He shakes his head at me, jaw tensing, then picks up his tablet. “You want me to stop treating you like a child?” he says. “Stop acting like a child.”
“Thanks, big bro,” I say, backing out of the room.“I appreciate the advice. I love you, too.”
“Pick up your gym bag. You’re not an animal.”
I swipe the bag off the ground as I leave the kitchen, pointing my protein shake at him. “I’m so glad we had this heart-to-heart. I’m feeling good about today, too. Loving life. Pumped.”
“Don’t forget to shave,” he says, eyes fixed on the screen. “And do a clean job this time. Use the straight razor like I showed you.”
“Do you have nothing positive to say to me?” I ask, heading for the hall. “Maybe a little encouragement? Maybe something about how great I am, how talented I am, how I’m such a pleasure to have in class—”
“Don’t mess this up today.”
“What’s that?” I cup my hand to my ear. “You think I’m more handsome than you? Smarter than you? Taller than you?”
