I sniffle, drawing away from Cass.
My hand drifts to my belly.
“Hi,” I whisper to the tiny life I can’t feel yet. “I’m going to take care of you. I promise.”
“Don’t forget the crazy aunt,” Cass says indulgently, smiling broadly.
I chuckle. “Crazy and kind.”
Cass searches my eyes. “Are you going to tell him?”
A lump forms in my throat. Tell him? How?
“Do you want to tell him?” she presses.
“No.” Big fat lie. I want to tell him, but I can’t. I don’t even know how to get in touch with him. It hurts to admit that.
He’s gone, Enya, and like hell are you chasing someone who used you.
I’m not going to humiliate myself any further. Before, I did it without knowing; now it would mean walking straight into the wreck with my eyes wide open.
Cass hugs me again. “Got it. You and this baby—you’re going to be the best team.”
A tear slips down my cheek, but it’s not sadness. Not exactly.
“Along with the crazy aunt?”
“You better believe it.”
I’m going to give you the best life, baby. With so much love, you’ll never doubt it. Not for a second.
I don’t know what the future looks like, but the hope of something new and beautiful blooms in the space Nick left behind.
8
THE LINE I CHOOSE
DOMINIC
Istand in the office of Director Han—my supervisor—hands loose at my sides, posture straight.
She’s at her desk, glasses perched low on her nose, reading my resignation letter like it’s just another Tuesday. For her, it is. I’m not the first agent who, out of the blue, decided “the hell with it.”
She looks up slowly. “And here I thought you were a lifer.”
“You and me both,” I admit.
She studies me for a long moment. Not my face—my tells. The things she’s learned to read over the years. “This about the Cahill op or Paris?”
I’ve worked with Director Han for six years. We’re not friends, but we’ve survived enough lie detectors together to earn a version of intimacy.
“Yes.”
She sighs. “Happens. I worried when you started right back up after Paris.”
Getting shot is never fun. Getting shot because you stood in front of an innocent you put in danger in the first place is justice…but still not fun.
“I didn’t need much physical therapy,” I remark.
