“Sleep?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“That’s not a number.”
“I didn’t know there was going to be math.”
He leaned back. “Did you eat?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Why are you doing intake like a nurse with a gambling problem?”
“Because you get weird when you don’t eat.”
“I get weird always. It’s part of the brand.”
“Jace.”
I hated my name in that tone. Not Declan’s tone. Roman’s was flatter, older, less command and more I have dragged you out of enough stupid situations to recognize the smell of one.
I sat down and pulled off my sneakers. “Toast. Eggs. Protein shake. Half a banana.”
“Half?”
“The other half looked questionable.”
“It was a banana, not a moral test.”
“Texture matters.”
Roman watched me shove one sock into my skate, then take it out because the seam was wrong and I knew if I left it I’d feel it the entire practice and probably commit a felony by the neutral zone drill.
He lowered his voice.
“Did he tell her?”
My hands stopped.
Not dramatically. Not enough for the room to notice. But inside me, everything went white and sharp for one second.
Benny was across the room complaining about someone using his towel. Milo was laughing. Water ran somewhere down the hall. The world stayed noisy enough to hide the fact that Roman Vega had just pulled the floor out from under me.
I looked at him.
He didn’t look smug. He didn’t even look surprised. Just tired, maybe, and careful in a way I wasn’t used to seeing from him.
“Did who tell who what?” I asked.
It came out too fast.
Roman’s mouth flattened. “Don’t insult both of us.”
