“You didn’t have to let me come,” she says eventually.
“The team set it up.”
“You could have said no.”
I could have.
I did not.
From inside, Lily shouts, “Ryan, Mrs. Alvarez says fractions are fake!”
Mrs. Alvarez shouts back, “I said unnecessary in daily life!”
Peyton’s lips press together. “Your family is subtle.”
“This is them in crisis mode.”
“Terrifying.”
The laugh that almost comes out of me feels rusty enough to hurt.
Peyton looks down at her coffee. “Can I ask you something?”
“Off the record?”
“Off the record.”
I do not agree.
I also do not leave.
“When was the last time you let yourself not be okay?”
I stare at the barn.
Not a profile question.
“I don’t remember,” I say.
Peyton nods. She does not write it down. Does not look pleased with herself.
After a minute, I say, “My turn.”
Her gaze cuts to me.
“Same rule,” I say. “No tape. No quote. Straight answer.”
“Okay.”
“Why are you really here?”
“Because I needed to know if I could write this story without bending it.” Her fingers tighten around the mug. “And I couldn’t do that from two hundred miles away in a hotel room.”
I believe her.
Which is its own kind of problem.
“One question off the record. Either of us can refuse. If we answer, we get one back.”
