“I don’t have anything to say to you,” she said solemnly, though I didn’t miss the way her throat constricted or the way her lips tightened.
“I have some things I’d like to say to you. If you’ll hear me out.”
Her eyes cut away as she reached to close the door. “That’s not necessary.”
“Please—”
“Goodbye, Judah,” she said softly as she shut the door and immediately locked it.
Fuck.I rested my forehead on the door and closed my eyes as I listened to the muffled tears on the other side.
A throat cleared behind me.
Dammit. When had I stopped noticing everything? I wasalwayson alert.
Joel Hawthorne stood behind me. A plastic grocery bag full of something that smelled like Thai food hung from the crook of his arm. He had downgraded from crutches to a cane. Honestly, it worked for him.
I expected him to beat me with it. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he did.
Instead, he did last thing I expected.
Joel extended his hand. “Thank you,” he said.
All I could do was blink.
“Honestly, with what I put my sister through, I deserved to have my kneecaps broken. I needed the wake-up call. I don’t know what would have happened if you—you know—hadn’t happened.”
I shook his hand.
Joel cocked his head toward the apartment. “And thank you for looking out for her. And for me. Cole’s pretty cool.”
“He is.”
“Scary as fuck, though.”
I cracked a smile. “He is.”
Joel and I switched places as he unlocked the door to head inside. “But now it’s my turn to look out for her the way I should have all along. And I know I shouldn’t be making threats to you since you’re a Fed and all, but if you ever come near her again, I’ll return the favor and break her baseball bat on your knees.” He slipped inside. “Have a good night.” That Hawthorne twindidslam the door in my face.
I let out a long sigh and resigned myself to my future hospital stay after reconstructive knee surgery.
38
AMELIA
Sunday, August 24 | 1:02 p.m.
Unlock the seatbelt. Let it retract beside you. Shoulder your bag. It’s in the back seat. Reach for the handle. Pull, then push the door open. Put both feet on the ground. Stand. Close the door. Lock the car.
Walk across the faculty lot. Step onto the sidewalk. Use your badge to unlock the door. No one can unlock the door without a badge. Go down the corridor. Take a left at the first hallway. Your office is the second door on the right.
I ran through the process that used to be as easy as breathing. I had made the same walk for years. I knew the building like the back of my hand.
I tried to reach for my seatbelt, but it was like my brain had become disconnected from my brain stem. My mind knew what it was supposed to do, but my body refused to cooperate. I let out a growl and slumped forward, resting my forehead on the steering wheel.
The lot was empty. It was a Sunday, after all. The semester didn’t start until tomorrow. None of my colleagues would be in the building as they savored the remaining hours of their summer break.
I had managed to leave my apartment and make the short drive to campus. Dr. Chen suggested that I practice my Monday routine.Because of course one of my two in-person classes had to be at eight in the morning on a Monday. Everyone knew not to take eight a.m. classes. Who the hell had even signed up for it?
