“Not like this.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Try me.”
He leans in slightly, his voice dropping.
“People disappear all the time,” he says. “You just don’t always notice.”
“I noticed,” I say.
“I can see that.”
“Then help me.”
The words come out before I can stop them, and the second they do, I feel the shift in him.
It’s subtle, but it’s there.
“Careful,” he says quietly. “You’re starting to sound like you trust me.”
“I don’t.”
“Good.”
“Then answer me anyway.”
“I told you,” he says. “I don’t have answers.”
“Then get them.”
He watches me for a long moment, something weighing behind his eyes.
“You don’t stop,” he says.
“No.”
“That’s going to get you in trouble.”
“Then I’ll deal with it.”
His gaze lingers, longer than it should.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “You probably will.”
I don’t like the way that sounds.
I don’t like him.
And I definitely don’t like that he might be the only one who isn’t lying to me outright.
“Stay out of my way,” I say.
His mouth curves into that same slow, deliberate smile.
“Not a chance.”
This time, when I turn away, it doesn’t feel like I’m leaving the conversation behind.
