Do you want to come with me?
Mostly, KC couldn’t even go with her, and if Yardley happened to decide to stay home, KC would have to make up a reason to explain why it was necessary forherto leave so she could drive herself to Langley. It was pointless and stupid to care about Yardley’s solo friendships, her excessive work hours and endless business trips, when they were precisely what made enough room for KC to carry on her secret life.
But she did care. Because she was a fool.
“When will you be back?” she asked.
“Not sure, actually.” Yardley waved her hand. “You know how it is when a friend’s in crisis.”
Just a few hairs lifted at the nape of KC’s neck, the way they did when she was on the trail of something and her hindbrain noticed an anomaly in a hot mess of code. “So it’s work on your day off and then a friend in crisis? Who?”
Yardley frowned. “Not reallycrisis-crisis,” she said. “But you know.”
That “you know” was a bald cue for KC to pick up.Agree and let me go, it meant.You don’t want me here with you any more than I want to be here.
KC didn’t know if it was the sting in her knee or her early-morning tête-à-tête with Gramercy making her obstreperous, but she refused to say her expected lines. “I don’t remember you having a friend who has problems.”
Yardley coughed. “Who doesn’t, right?” She looked away from KC again. “It’s kind of a friend and kind of a work thing. Hard to explain.”
“I’m pretty smart. You could try.”
KC watched color climb from under Yardley’s hand up the sides of her neck. Finally, she turned her head to meet KC’s eyes. “It’s not really your business, is it? Anymore.”
Awful. Hopelessly, desperately awful. KC had to pinch the bridge of her nose to keep the sting in her eyes from turning to tears. “Yeah,” she finally choked out. “Right. Not like it ever was.”
Civilians weren’t supposed to know anything about KC besides her cover. Dr. Brown had made it clear when she joined the agency: from that day forward, she was a smart, precocious kidwho’d been raised by Dad and Grandma after Mom died, who went early to college, then set up her own freelance tech business. KC’s cover’s life was an easy-breezy one, without a lot of money but with enough of everything that mattered. Nothing to worry about or dig deep into.
That was who she’d been with Yardley. Who she’d had to be.
Maybe KC could’ve,should’ve, shared with Yardley more of the emotional truth of her life—the benign neglect of her upbringing, the anxiety and loneliness, how her idealism had led her to the community she’d always needed but also to the illegal activities that threatened her entire young adulthood.
But for KC herself, her shallow cover story was more comfortable. It made her feel equipped for a relationship with someone like Yardley, who’d grown up surrounded by family and friends, entered private schools and sororities, and could navigate a career in finance with grace.
KC’s decision to stick to her cover had killed any possibility that she and Yardley could share the joyful fantasies and dreams of an ordinary couple three years into their relationship. They’d walk past a school during recess, and KC would squeeze Yardley’s hand and nearly ask,So have you ever thought about kids?But then she’d bite her tongue, knowing it wasn’t possible, and she didn’t want to get Yardley’s hopes up. Or Yardley would tell a story about her beloved childhood cat, Okra, and KC would stop herself just short of saying,Should we get a pet?
There were so many words arrested in her throat, frozen and unsaid. It meant that every sweet nothing came out a little more strangled until Yardley inevitably noticed, and then KC didn’t have an answer for,What’s wrong with us? How can we fix us?
The only thing she ever could say to Yardley that was the fulltruth wasI love you. But that didn’t matter when Yardley could never really know the woman who was saying it.
The scrape of the kitchen blind on its track was jarring in the silence between them. Yardley yanked the slim rope until the blinds were partially closed, obscuring the view from outside. She was always getting after KC about turning lights on early, transforming the house into a fishbowl. “I have to get ready,” she said.
And then she was gone, leaving KC in an empty kitchen with no choice but to make herself forget about her heart for now. Forget the waste of the best three years of her life, and forget the dark, narrow feeling she got in her chest when she thought about what living here would be like without Yardley.
KC had to focus on the Unicorn.
Whatever she could dig up, whatever advantage she could give the Unicorn for this shitshow the agency had decided to fling its best agent into without adequate preparation, had just become Priority One.
CHAPTER THREE
CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
Atlas leaned back in their chair at the conference table. Their leather blazer was so fine, it didn’t make even the softest creak when they shifted position. They’d recently grown out their hair from a deep burgundy, and now their short, rich brown Afro set off the golden tones in their dark skin.
They nodded at Gramercy, dashing as usual in one of his three-piece suits with a green-and-white paisley pocket square. It was Gramercy who coordinated the analysts and tech for Project Maple Leaf. Atlas took point on operations, while Yardley hobnobbed, flirted, infiltrated, and developed assets as she could. There were others assigned to the team, but the three of them formed its core.
Gramercy slid a briefing file toward Yardley, fat with all of the need-to-know details of today’s op.
“Aren’t we waiting on Tabasco?” Yardley glanced toward the door.
