Page 99 of Locke

I identify with the sentiment completely.

I reach for my phone on the nightstand.Eight forty-seven a.m.

We were supposed to be somewhere at nine.

I lie there considering whether I have to really answer the door and come up empty.The banging has settled into a patient rhythm now—not urgent, not going away.

“Will you just go let him in,” Livia murmurs.

I lean over and press a kiss to her temple.“Fine.”

I extract myself from under her arm and pull a pair of sweats from my drawer, all so I can get to the door before Arch wakes up the entire neighborhood.

The house is a rental in a quiet area about fifteen minutes from the performance facility.Nothing overly luxurious, but it has three bedrooms and a yard with actual trees.It’s not the land I’ve been looking at east of the city where I’d like to build, but it will do for the time being.

I pull open the front door.

Arch is on the porch in a jacket and a grin, a coffee carrier in one hand with three cups in it.He looks at my face, at the sweatpants, at the hour, and his grin widens which I find deeply irritating.

“You forgot,” he says.

“I didn’t forget.”

“You absolutely forgot.”

“I was informed of the time and I was managing it.”

“You were asleep.”

“I was horizontal and aware.”

He holds up the coffee.“I brought three.”

“Thoughtful,” I say and step back to give him room to enter.

He moves past me and I follow him into the kitchen where he sets the carrier on the counter and starts opening cabinets with the ease of a friend who knows he’s welcome to rifle through my belongings.

“Mugs?”he says.

“Second cabinet.”

He finds them and starts to transfer the coffee.I watch this happen and think about the fact that a teammate is in my kitchen making himself at home and I am not calculating the equation I always do, the one about proximity and exposure and the specific cost of letting people have access to your space.

I watch him look for the sugar.“Third drawer,” I say.

“Got it.”He finds it, turns around, and leans against the counter.Looks at me with those easy eyes.“How’s it going?”

“Fine.”

“How’s Livia?”

“Also fine.”

He nods like this is the answer he expected and is satisfied with it.

“Rome’s meeting us there,” he says.“Boss is already there, which means he’s either been there since it opened or he slept there.”

“Neither would surprise me.”