Page 64 of Trigger Happy Ending

My lips part, but I don’t answer. I can’t. Her stare burns a fucking hole in my chest.

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

We sit in silence, not as enemies anymore, but as something else entirely. Friends, maybe. Because we’re ripped up in the same places, Raine and I.

Two vicious halves of the same violent hole.

Chapter 27

Raine

It’s unusual to have a Friday off, so Cherry and I make the most of it, strolling through the late afternoon markets in Central Park. Carson wants us looking our absolute best for tomorrow night, so he made sure we weren’t rostered on. Out of all the things Cherry wanted to do, she chose a goddamn flea market. Golden light slices through the trees, catching on rows of vendor stalls. I thought I’d hate it, but being amongst the bustle of the crowd, I’m kinda enjoying myself. I’ve never been to one of these before. At least, not properly. I did once assassinate a target from a rooftop in Morocco, and there was a market below. I’m not sure that counts though.

I’m still kinda reeling from my day with Soren yesterday. I knew he’d been through some shit, but never did I imagine his past was so dark and tragic. He’s suffered unimaginable loss, just as I have. Had his heart ripped out and stomped on. Had those he loved more than anything in the world taken from him. I thought about sharing my fucked-up past, but then came the bombshell.

He is nearly free from this life.

I’ve been replaying that he’s not a lifelong member of the fucked-up Agency club over and over again. I must have looked so stupid, like a stunned idiot. I had no idea there were operatives who were temporary. I thought everyone was bound to the Agency for life. Goes to show how little I know, how unimportant I really am to the network that owns me.

Once this mission is over, Soren will be free, while I continue to rot, chained to a place I despise. But more than that? My chest kind of aches. It was like a knife to the chest when he said he was out. I don’t know why, but I’d come around to the idea that Soren and I might work together again. That there would always be a chance I could see him again.

But not if he’s out.

I’ll never see him again.

And that makes my eyes sting.

I glance around, blinking in rapid succession, desperate to shift my thoughts from Soren to literally anything else. The air smells delicious, thick with cinnamon donuts, pretzels, and roasted nuts. Dreamcatchers sway in the breeze amongst candle stalls, art prints, and tiny cactuses in painted pots.

I guess it’s cute.

If you’re into wholesome shit and have no idea how cruel this world really is.

The stinging in my eyes subsides a little as Cherry loops her arm through mine. It takes me a second to relax my muscles. I tense from habit, always ready for a threat, even now in sugar wonderland. Cherry doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe she does and doesn’t care. We’ve known each other for a decent chunk of time now, so she’s used to what she calls my “weird-ass quirks.”

“You know if you come with me, we could do this all the time.” Cherry hums. She drags me toward a jewelry stall before I can protest. “Imagine us strollin’ Farmer’s Markets every weekend? Do you like anything?” she asks, dangling mismatched feather earrings.

“No.”

“Boo, you bore.”

I smirk at the tweaked Mean Girls reference.

Cherry flits from stall to stall, dragging me behind her, making strangers smile with her enthusiastic praise of shitty pottery. She marvels at some nonna’s homemade jam, like it’s the most incredible thing she’s ever tasted. There’s a reason she’s called “sunshine in a thong” at the Golden Claw. She just has a way of leaving people in a better mood than when she found them.

A rattle of coins in a tin pulls me toward a homeless man tucked between stalls. I dig in my bag and find a rumpled hundred. I drop the crumpled note in his tin and catch up to Cherry at a cluttered table full of beads, charms, and string.

“I’m buyin’ you somethin’,” she tells me, already picking out beads.

I wave her off. “Save your money.”

“Nuh-uh. You need something to remember me by. Besides, you’re the one thing I’m sad to leave behind. Make it your early birthday present. Which is when, by the way?”

It’s stupid, how much that question hits me. Admittedly, I’m already emotionally wounded from yesterday with Soren, but still. No one has remembered my birthday in sixteen years. I spend the holidays alone. I never used to mind when I was full of pure rage, but as I get older and I rewatch movies like The Holiday and Love Actually, I feel an immense sadness. Like there’s a giant hole in my heart.

“January first.”

Cherry holds out a handmade beaded bracelet.