His eyes moving over mine.
• • •
“What,” he says. Not a question.
I realize I’m frowning.
I touch my own face like I’m checking.
“Cassian.” I don’t even know where to start. “Why are you —”
• • •
Three knocks on my door.
“Ro.” My dad’s voice.
“Come down. Have breakfast with me. Please.”
Cassian goes completely still.
I shove him under the covers.
He goes without argument, which is a miracle.
The door opens anyway.
My dad.
Still in yesterday’s clothes.
Eyes red but dry now, the specific exhaustion that comes after you’ve run out of tears.
He looks at the suspicious Cassian-shaped lump under my blanket.
Then at me.
• • •
Finger guns.
“Bring Cass too.”
He closes the door.
I stare at the ceiling.
I want to die for completely different reasons than last night.
Progress.
• • •
Breakfast is burnt.
My mom was the cook.
She took that with her too, apparently.
