As she talks, her face goes pink. “Sorry,” she finishes. “I should have asked?—”
She’s apologizing for borrowing a book?
My chest constricts.
Shit. She thinks I’ll be mad because she borrowed a book. Because I’ve treated her like a thief instead of the innocent woman she is.
“I don’t care if you read my books,” I reply. My voice is sharper than I intended. Gentling it, I add, “I told you to make yourself comfortable here. If you want books, different ones…”
I trail off as I recognize the book she’s reading. It’s a memoir written by a retired Delta Force operator, one I bought years before joining Delta myself. It’s not completely accurate, but it couldn’t be, considering much of what we did was confidential. But for a memoir about Delta, it’s pretty decent.
“I was curious,” Sofia explains. “Knight said you were Delta. I didn’t know.”
“It’s not something we talk about,” I reply. “Being Delta, I mean. It could put an unnecessary target on our backs. When we were active duty, especially.”
Sofia’s cheeks flush even redder. “I won’t say anything.”
Once again, I’m saying the wrong thing. “It’s not that. I don’t mind that you know. I was just explaining why I wouldn’t have it online…”
DidSofia ever look me up on social media? I certainly thought about looking her up over the years. But I told myself it was a bad idea. That I’d moved on, and so had she.
Except I hadn’t really moved on, had I? Not completely. If I had, I wouldn’t care so much about what she thinks of me. I wouldn’t care if she forgave me. I would have pushed her off on a Fox & Falcon employee rather than bringing her here to stay with me.
From the guilty look in her eyes, I get the distinct feeling she haslooked me up online. But I’m certainly not going to call her out on it. “Anyway. You can read any of the books I have. Or if you want to go on Amazon and make a list, I can order some books for you. I don’t have any of those mystery books you used to like with the cats on the covers?—”
“They’re cozy mysteries. And they don’t all have cats. Sometimes there’s a dog.” The tiniest smile ghosts her lips. “A couple have birds.”
The belt wrapped around my chest releases a notch. It’s still tight, uncomfortably so, but at least now I feel like I can take a breath.
“Cozy mysteries, then. If you make a list, I can order them.”
Sofia crosses her legs pretzel-style in front of her. Her teeth dig into her lower lip and her eyebrows draw into a small V. “I don’t think you came in to talk about cozy mysteries, did you?”
Sighing, I reply, “No. I just came to check on you, really. I figured you’d be asleep.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Of course not. Not when she knew I was off confronting my father. Not when she had no idea what I’d come back to say.
“Do you want to know now? What happened? Or tomorrow?”
She shoots me anare you crazylook. “Now.”
Glancing around the room for a place to sit, I finally settle on the chair by the window. But once I’m seated, Sofia seems too far away. I can’t see the changing colors of her eyes from fifteen feet away. I can’t distinguish the changing emotions on her face. So I drag the chair closer to the bed, then sit down again.
Sofia watches me get settled, then asks, “Are you sure you’re comfortable?”
The corner of her mouth twitches.
Another memory returns.
Sofia loved to tease me. She said I was too serious sometimes, and it was her job to loosen me up. And in hindsight, she was right. I can be too serious, too intense, at times. It worked in the Army, and especially in Delta. It works for running a company. But at home, in my everyday life? I guess a little less serious isn’t a bad thing.
“I’m comfortable,” I reply. Or as comfortable as I can be given the conversation we’re about to have.
Sofia tugs on her hair. “So? What happened?”
My pulse speeds. “I talked to him.”
