Jac scowled. “And what if he kills her between now and then?”
“She decided to do this as much as you did. She knows the consequences, probably better than you do, even.” Lola gave him an awkward, reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You’re convinced something terrible is going to happen because a lot of terrible things have happened to you. I mean, of all the places in the North Side, you wanted to meethereagain. The sad origin story of sad Jac Mardlin. So if something terrible does happen, you can turn around, you can point to this, and you can have an excuse.”
Jac winced. Lola didn’t need to carry any of those daggers when she could throw around words like that. “You’re the one who used to always say, ‘This story will end badly.’”
“We’re psychoanalyzing you right now, not me,” she snapped. “All I’m saying is that, however much of a monster Charles Torren is, he’s gotten into your head. And when you let something get into your head, you don’t tell anyone about it. You avoid your girlfriend. You get in an argument with your best friend. And when every single one of them gives you the same advice, you ignore them.”
Jac stood up. “I really do that, don’t I? I’m...” He rubbed his temples and cursed himself for craving a cigarette. Everything Lola told him was absolutely true. He was a muck partner, a muck friend, and an all-around muck person. And not because he was rotten, but because he sat around and let himself rot and claimed he didn’t know how to stop it.
Lola stood up, too. “Don’t walk away. I’m not done. You don’t get to leave yet.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him around. She glared down at him until he returned to their bench, and Jac swore that tall women would be the death of him.
“When we last spoke months ago, you were anxious and resentful. You were convinced this assignment was going to kill you, and you talked about it like, when Levi asked, you didn’t even have a choice. But you don’t talk like that anymore. You’re more confident. You’re less twitchy. You’rebetter.”
Lola had a way with words that made you want to believe her. Probably because she was an honest person who had been unwillingly dragged into all of this. But it wasn’t like that for her, either. Not anymore. She’d chosen this, just like he had.
“You’re better, too,” he told her.
Lola crossed her arms, but she didn’t quite manage to hold back her smile. “This isn’t about me, though.”
“It could be. I’m very curious about this date. Do you like them?”
She flushed. “Stop it.”
“I bet I can guess who it is. I remember, that night at—”
“You’ve never met her. She’s not from here. She’s from, um, far away. She won’t even be here long, because she’s just visiting. She doesn’t read the papers or know who any of you are. She—”
“So when’s our double date?”
Lola had an awfully serious face that didn’t handle embarrassment well. Nor did she lie well, but Jac could forgive her for that...for now.
“She’d...she’d hate you,” she stammered.
Jac placed a hand on his heart. “And yet you’d keep her?”
Lola apparently decided she’d suffered enough humiliation, because she spun around and walked away.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” he called after her.
She held up a rude hand gesture.
“Thank you!” he added, no longer joking. Lola didn’t have to drop everything and travel across town for someone she’d barely spoken to in weeks, but she had. And Jac might’ve preferred gentle comfort to her particular brand of tough love, but he’d needed to hear it. He was still far too angry at Levi right now to walk back to Olde Town and apologize, but he knew Levi still cared about him, and so he’d listen to everyone’s advice. He’d wait.
Lola turned back for a moment, hands stuffed in her pockets, and gave him a smile.
“Next time we’ll talk about your problems!” Jac called. “Like why you’re far too private with your personal life when I already know—”
“Goodbye, Jac!” Then she swiveled away, quickened her pace, and waited for the pedestrian light to flash.
Once she’d disappeared from sight, Jac turned to stare at his One-Way House, and he decided that chapter of his life would finally end here. He had a far grander story to write.
He took Charles’s invitation from his pocket, shredded it, and tossed it away.
9
“Eight Fingers didn’t create the Scarhands on his own, you know. There was someone else. Not just his second—he was his partner.
“But that’s not how oaths work. There can only be one lord, and without oaths, there’s no loyalty.
