Chapter Twenty-One
The safehouse was quiet again.
Ryder had left twenty minutes ago, his duffel over his shoulder and a nod to Isaac that carried more than the words that came with it. Fallon had watched them from the couch—the shorthand, the trust, the way Ryder squeezed Isaac’s shoulder on the way out and Isaac let him.
Now it was just the two of them. The kitchen smelled like the eggs Ryder had scrambled before he’d gone, and weak afternoon light fell through the blinds in thin bars across the carpet. Fallon sat with her legs tucked beneath her, her wrapped wrist resting on a pillow in her lap.
She could walk without assistance now. The knee was stiff and unhappy, but it tracked. The wrist still throbbed when she moved it wrong, which was often, but the swelling had come down enough that her fingers closed when she told them to. Functional. A long way from healed, but functional.
Isaac dropped onto the other end of the couch. He looked tired. The stubble was thicker than yesterday, and the lines around his eyes had deepened in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.
“I want to talk to you about something,” he said.
“That’s never a good opening.”
The corner of his mouth kicked up just the slightest bit. “Your Chattanooga target. I think you should put it aside.”
Her jaw tightened. “Isaac?—”
“Not forever. Just for right now. Your body needs time. You can barely close your right hand.”
“I can close my right hand fine.”
“Show me.”
She made a fist. It took longer than it should have, the fingers curling in sequence rather than all at once, the tendons in her wrist pulling against damage that hadn’t finished repairing. She held it for three seconds before the grip faltered, and her ring finger drifted open.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.
Her wrist pulsed. A dull, deep ache that radiated from the joint into the bones of her forearm.
“Your body’s making the argument better than I can.” Quiet. No pressure.
She hated that he was right. Hated more that she couldn’t manufacture a counterargument that didn’t sound delusional given that she’d nearly fallen off a building four days ago.
Cass had been saying the same thing for months.You need to give your body a break, Fallon. You need to rest.They’d had this discussion more than once. Fallon’s reply had always been the same:after this target.She’d said it so many times the words had lost their meaning. A promise she kept making and kept breaking, and both of them knew it.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll put it aside. For now.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I’m not happy about it.”
“I know.” A pause. “I’m probably about to be fired from Zodiac anyway, so maybe we can figure out our next steps together. Two unemployed people with a lot of free time.”
She turned to look at him. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“You could lose your career over this, Isaac.” The guilt of that pressed against her sternum. “You’re here instead of doing your job. You left your team for me.”
“Yeah. I did.”
“And now you might lose everything. Because of me.”
“That was my choice.”
“A choice you shouldn’t have had to make.” She pulled her knee tighter against her chest. “Go back. Call your boss. Make things right. I’ll be fine on my own. I’ve always been fine on my own.”
