The kind people were allowed to have.
Declan’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it.
I knew from his face before he said anything.
“Olivia?” I asked.
“Yes.”
Jealousy moved through me, ugly and pointless. I looked away before it showed too much.
“You should answer.”
“I’ll call her when I get home.”
I nodded.
My own phone buzzed then.
Roman: You home?
I stared at the text for too long.
Declan noticed. “Who?”
“Roman.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I dragged a hand over my mouth. “He knows I’m not home. Or he guessed.”
Declan’s expression sharpened, not panic, but attention narrowing. “Why?”
“Because he’s Roman. Because he saw stuff after the bar. Because I’m a terrible liar when I’m tired. Because I texted him from the hotel but didn’t say room fast enough and he has goalie brain, which is basically surveillance with knee problems.”
Declan was quiet.
My stomach twisted. “He doesn’t know. Not know know.”
“But he’s looking.”
“Yeah.”
The word felt cold after everything warm.
I typed back before I could make it worse.
Me: Out walking. Needed air. Heading home soon.
Roman answered almost immediately.
Roman: Alone?
My chest went tight.
