I bristle, and the lie is automatic: “I can handle it.”
“What did you discuss with her today?”
I swallow and sit back, glancing around the room, shopping for time. Today I watched her braid her hair. Braid and unbraid it. Braid and unbraid it.
I asked about her parents. She looked at me.
I asked about her sister. She looked at me.
I asked about her ex-fiancé. She looked at me.
I’d finally crossed my arms and said, “Are you going to do this forever? Seriously? You’re just going to sit there and stare at me and give me nothing? What’s your favorite color, Rosabelle? Can you tell me your favorite color? Or is that some kind of highly protected trade secret you can’t speak into the world for fear of inciting a new war?” and then shelaughedat me, and then I had a stroke. I actually felt the blood drain from my face. My hands went hot, then clammy.
It was a soft, musical sound I’d never heard from her. Hell, I’d never even seen her smile.
She was still smiling when she looked at me after that, the gentle expression lingering on her face.
My fucking soul left my body.
I’d always thought she was gorgeous, but I had no idea what I was missing. The way her eyes lit up, the way her nose wrinkled. She’s been eating more every day, looking healthier, growing only more radiant.
“Wow,” I’d whispered, gaping at her like an idiot discovering his hands for the first time. And then, realizing I’d said the word out loud, I reached inside myself and put my fist through my brain.
“Have you actually lost your mind?” says Warner, his anger so sharp it slaps me back to the present.
I’m not entirely sure how much of my emotional turbulence he’s picking up on right now,but the look on his face is telling me it’s probably a lot.
“You know,” I say, pointing at him. “It’s interesting. There’s something about the way she always has her guard up that actually reminds me of you.”
Warner’s face goes neutral at that. A clear sign he’s hiding his own emotional response. “Excuse me?”
Juliette makes ahumof interest.
“Like, obviously you guys are different people,” I clarify. “But I know the real you, because I’ve lived with you for so long. I know that the face you put on for the world isn’t the one you wear when you feel safe. She gives off that same vibe. Sometimes I don’t get a lot of answers out of her, but then she’ll look at me and I swear I canseeher.” I turn away. “Like the real Rosabelle is a girl living inside a fortress inside a fortress inside a fortress inside a fortress. But the walls are so thick no one can hear her screaming.”
When I finally look up, I discover Warner is watching me. Juliette is watching me.
“What?” I say.
“You care for her,” says Warner.
“No, I don’t,” I lie.
“You do,” says Juliette, her eyes going soft. “Oh, James.”
“This is an unfortunate developmnet,” says Warner, turning toward the window.
“It’s not like that,” I lie again, fighting for redemption.“It’s just that sometimes I get the sense that she’s, like, genuinely scared. Or nervous. Or justhuman. Sometimes I really get the feeling she would walk away from The Reestablishment if she thought there was a way out. And for the record, I don’t think she’s cold-blooded—”
“Kenji might be able to handle it,” Warner says to Juliette. “Or Samuel.”
Juliette shakes her head. “They’re both overloaded right now, and Samuel doesn’t have the clearance.”
“Hugo might be ready,” says Warner.
“Oh, Hugo,” says Juliette sleepily.
“Hey,” I say angrily. “You said I had eight weeks. It’s only been ten days—”
