Kate huffs a tiny breath as I enter the password I created for her. Before she can speak, I type a new command:
set new system password for superuser KaitlinMinolaLynch
I gesture for Kate to pull over the laptop. She looks from the screen to me, uncertainty tightening her face. “System password?” she finally asks.
“As superuser, you can access every?—”
“I know what a feckin’ superuser is,” she snaps.
I’m tempted to laugh at her show of temper. Next, she’ll be calling me all sorts of Irish curse words. She’ll be back to normal. Back where she belongs.
Before I can try another response, she says, “What system is this?”
“Yours.”
“Mine?” The word is drenched with suspicion.
On my own computer, I pull up the schematic of the network I built for her, throwing it to one of the monitors on the far wall. One part of me wants to go through it step bystep, explaining the decisions I made, pointing out each element of the structure. Another part—the wiser part—stays silent.
She works through the information in record time. Goes back to the beginning. Reviews it again, paying more attention to the details. Only after a third time through does she turn to me. Her words sound like they’re carved from ice. “You built this for me?”
I nod, fighting a burning in my chest that makes it hard for me to answer. “You deserve a safe place to work. A network that isn’t locked down. That isn’t compromised.”
“I don’t have anything for you. I didn’t bring a gift.”
“You did,” I correct her. “You came home.”
“Why would you do this for me?” she wails. “You know what I’ve done in the past. What I’m capable of doing in the future. Why would you create this network for me? Give me this machine?”
“Because I can,” I say. “Because it’s the right thing to do. Because you’re the best at what you do, and I hope you’ll choose to work with me, instead of against me. I want you on my team.”
That sounds like a business proposal. I’m tempted to leave the words there, to let her interpret them however she wants. But part of me can’t bear the thought of her misunderstanding.
So I try again. “I want more than that.” I meet her unwavering gaze. “Kate Lynch,” I say. “I wantyou.”
Something thaws inside her. Her green eyes turn glassy and her lips begin to tremble. She swallows hard and looks at the blinking cursor still waiting for her password. She finally finds her way back to me.
“My,” she says, her voice cracking on the word. “What big systems you have.”
“The better to bring you home, my dear.”
She doesn’t quite manage a laugh. “You hurt me,” she says.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Not just the spying. Not just Winter Reckoning. The leash. It hurt my throat.”
“I know. I wish I could?—”
“But that’s on me,” she interrupts. “The leash. I promised I wouldn’t cut, but I did. I thought I could keep it under control. I thought I could manage everything. Proud as a paycock, Granny would say.”
My lips quirk. “She’s a wise woman, your grandmother.”
That earns me a flash of a smile, but it’s gone so quickly I wonder if I imagined it. Especially when Kate says, “I’m scared.”
I want to cup my hand against her cheek. I’m afraid I’ll lose her if I try. Keeping my distance, I ask, “Scared of what?”
“That I’m too angry. Too broken. Too wild. Da…” She starts to say something and stops. “Mam…” She doesn’t get any further. “The entire feckin’ Lynch clan…” she finally manages.
