She had so many questions.
Flint waited for her response.
She cleared her throat and forced out a quiet, “Thank you.”
Something flickered in his eyes before he nodded once. “If there’s anything I can do?—”
“You’ve already been helpful.” She pointed at the tablet under his arm. “With the records.”
“Of course. Whatever I can do.” He pressed his lips together as if chewing on a thought. “Kori . . .”
She stilled. “Yes?”
“It wasn’t what you think. What happened between me and Mackenzie.”
Her stomach tightened. “I don’t know what to think.”
“It was only once. And we both regretted it.”
Her lungs froze at his words. She had a million things to say, but nothing that seemed worthwhile at the same time.
“None of it should’ve happened,” Flint continued.
Kori folded her arms, more to steady herself than anything else. “But it did.”
“Yes, it did.” He paused and licked his lips before continuing. “I went to DC once, you know. I thought maybe I could talk to you. Explain.” He let out a short breath. “When I got there, youwere working. I sat in the back of a courtroom and watched you for about ten minutes.”
Kori blinked. “You what?”
“You were in the middle of a case. You were so focused and confident.” A faint, almost self-conscious smile touched his lips before disappearing just as quickly. “You were exactly where you were supposed to be.”
Something shifted in her chest, but she ignored it. “So you left.”
“Yeah.” His gaze dropped. “I realized I didn’t belong there. Not in that world. Not in yours.”
“And Mackenzie?” Kori asked.
That flicker returned—this time harder to hide. “She tried to pretend it didn’t matter. That everything was fine. It wasn’t. She . . .” He hesitated, searching for the right word. “She struggled after that.”
Kori’s throat tightened. She hated thinking of her sister struggling. Yet her sister had betrayed her. The conflicting emotions clashed inside her.
“She wasn’t the same for a while,” he continued.
Kori held his gaze, trying to decide what she felt—anger, regret, something else entirely.
Flint seemed to come back to himself then, like he’d stepped further into this conversation than he intended.
“I didn’t know she was out here,” he said. “If I had . . .”
She waited for him to finish. When he didn’t, she asked, “If you had what?”
He raked a hand through his hair and sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It feels like it does.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said instead. “She needs you.”
That, at least, felt true.
He stepped back. “Take care of yourself out there.”
Then he turned and walked toward his truck.
Kori watched him go, her thoughts louder than before.
Not clearer.
Just heavier.
