“Cove,” Tobias called. “It’s time.”
I rolled to my feet, not bothering to clean up the pile of blankets on the floor or fold the borrowed pajamas I’d changed out of in exchange for sweats. The ankle monitor sat on the desk, inert and blue-lit, as if it had always belonged to me. I snapped it around my good ankle like Ben had instructed, pressed my thumb to the reader, and waited for it to chirp—an odd, high-tech sound that made me think of a pet’s feeding timer. I flexed my foot. It was lighter than I’d expected, almost delicate, and even the snugness of the band felt less intrusive than the weight of anticipation in my chest.
The door opened just as I finished. Tobias stood there, dressed not in his usual tailored armor but in joggers and a faded university tee, hair uncombed, eyes red-rimmed.
“Ready?” he asked, as if this was a school field trip instead of my release from solitary.
“Ready,” I answered, my skin buzzing with excitement to finally leave this room behind for good.
He gestured for me to follow, which I did happily.
Stepping out into the wing wasn’t new, as it had already been a part of my daily routine for a while now. What was new was when we bypassed my office door, continued out to the foyer, and climbed the steps to the second floor.
“You’ll be in the room you stayed in before. Is that okay?”
“More than okay!” I assured him, following him down the hall to the semi-familiar door.
Tobias looked relieved. He then opened the door and stepped aside, letting me enter first.
It was just as beautiful as I remembered. There was a real bed, king-sized, with luxurious sheets and a comforter as plush as a cloud. The whole wall facing the sea was made of big windows, and I almost cried at the sight.
There were shelves under the wall-mounted flatscreen filled with marine biology textbooks—some volumes I recognized from my undergrad days, and even a couple rare ones I would’ve killed to find in the States.
The sitting area was at the perfect spot where I could bask in natural light while reading and admire the ocean whenever I wanted. The chair that I’d found Tobias in watching me sleep—good lord, that felt like years ago—was still there, still looking comfortable, with a chunky knit blanket folded over one of its arms.
I walked the perimeter of the room, brushing my hand over the books, the window frames, the back of the chair, trying tohold back tears. The feeling that it had been constructed for me, and only me, was overwhelming. I wanted to be angry about it, but all I could muster was a hollow kind of awe.
Tobias hovered near the door. “If you want anything changed, or if you need—”
“It’s perfect,” I said, voice catching. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but I couldn’t lie to save my life.
He nodded, then placed a small white device on the desk. “This is the charger for the monitor. It’s wireless, so you can just rest your ankle on it at night. There’s a manual inside. The bathroom is stocked with toiletries, but if there’s anything else you think of, just tell me and it’s yours. The TV has all the same streaming services as the one in your office.”
I looked at him, really looked, and saw how much he was holding back—how much he was straining not to fuck this up. It was almost funny, considering the context, but I bit down on the laugh.
“Thanks,” I said, because it was the only non-weaponized word I possessed in the moment.
He left me alone then with a promise to come back shortly with breakfast. As soon as the door closed behind him, I sat on the bed and let myself be swallowed by the mattress, the way it gave under my weight and then held me. I hadn’t realized how much my body missed the sensation of being on a real fucking bed and not that terrible cot.
I stared at the ceiling, a nice, crisp white instead of the grey of my old room, breathing in the air that felt so much lighter than the air downstairs, until the light outside the window changed from the pale light of early morning to something bluer and brighter.
There was a knock at the door. This time I knew it was coming, but it still made me jolt upright, my heart pounding like I’d been caught doing something illicit by just relaxing.
Tobias lingered at the threshold, breakfast tray in hand. “I can come back later if you’d prefer.”
I shook my head. “No, sorry. It’s fine. You just startled me.”
He nodded, as if he’d expected just that answer, and crossed into the room, setting the tray down on the mattress for a moment before transferring its contents to the bedside table.
The meal was as an omelet rolled into a tight tube, a biscuit with a pat of butter slowly converting from solid to liquid in the morning sun, and a glass of orange juice with perfect pulp. There was fruit too, and the kind of jam you only saw in impossibly twee brunch spots.
Tobias, after a pause, went and sat in the big chair rather than perching on the edge of the mattress.
Knowing he was going to sit there and watch me eat, I didn’t wait to take a bite. The biscuit was warm and impossibly fluffy. I tried not to eat like a stray dog, but the whole situation was so surreal I couldn’t manage self-consciousness.
About halfway through the omelet, Tobias said, very quietly, “You look… good.”
I blinked, unsure if the “good” meant physically, emotionally, or just “not in your dusty-ass prison cell.” I decided I didn’t mind which option he meant.
