Fortunately, the light turns green. The sooner we get there, the sooner I can get out of this confined space and away from his incessant needling.
“Look, Reed, I know it’s none of my business. But I?—”
“If you know it’s none of your business, why are you still talking?”
“This is a lonely job, kid. Long hours, constant stress, and worries that will control your life if you let them.”
“Thanks for the pep talk,” I quip with a hearty eye roll. “They should have you writing the recruitment pamphlets for the bureau with gems of wisdom like this.”
“I’m only trying to help. What do you think life will be like in fifteen years if you keep pushing away people who want to help you?”
“Hopefully quieter,” I retort, the words masking a frustrated growl.
Ironically, that sounds very similar to something I texted Lila the other night after she felt me up and stole my keys. She is quite good at pushing people away too. One of the many things we have in common.
Fucking Lila. Still can’t believe she did that.
I was tempted to wait at her apartment until she returned. But as soon as I found my keys, I left with my head hung in shame. Nothing like getting outsmarted and played by a femme fatale to check your ego.
You know what? Fuck Lila. If she got herself in trouble, that’s too damn bad. I gave her a chance, and she didn’t take it.
She’s on her own.
Kenzie finally texted me the next day, claiming she was fine. Then she asked me to stop hounding her friends.
Whatever. Fuck her too.
Our team was assigned a big case this morning, so I’ll let that shit with Lila fizzle.
For now.
Still not done with his lecture, Andrews recaptures my wayward thoughts. “Trust me on this, kid. If you don’t have family or friends, you don’t have anything. Do yourself a favor and spend less time worrying about work and find some balance in your life. You’ll be glad you did when you get to my age and have something to look forward to in retirement.”
“If you’re auditioning for the role of my father, I’m sorry to tell you I won’t be filling the position.”
Every other parental figure I’ve had—by blood or by paper—has been a colossal fucking disappointment. I’m better off without one. Period.
He gives me a morose chuckle. “I already have a pain-in-the-ass kid, Reed. I don’t need another one. I’m merely sharing some of what I’ve learned in my long and glorious life. In the weeks we’ve been working together, it’s become clear you’ll be a great agent. It’s everything else you need to work on. I’d be remiss if I ended our training time without giving you some perspective on the importance of things outside of our nine-to-five.”
I’m torn between feeling a twinge of pride at his appraisal of my work and fiery shards of annoyance at the rest of his commentary.
“Let’s just keep our conversations about the job, okay? I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m not in the market for a friend or a father figure. I’m focused on my career. That’s it.”
“And that’s exactly my point.”
He lets that hang between us like it’s some profound statement. Newsflash, it isn’t.
A few moments later, he says, “I’ll be playing poker with Alan Lancaster again this weekend. Should I tell him anything for you? Ask him to pass a message to your brother?”
Why the fuck would I want him to do that?
I miss who I was before this car ride.
Refusing to be baited into this discussion, I remain silent. In my periphery, I notice him continuously glancing my way. He can look at me all he wants, but he’s not getting a fucking answer.
I don’t want to talk about Alan Lancaster. And Idamnsure don’t want to discuss the mutual connection I have with him—my bio brother.
After weeks of Andrews badgering me to join him for his standing poker night, I finally caved. Since it was a friendly game and not high-stakes gambling, I figured it would be a good test of my resolve. More exposure therapy.
