I swallow. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Yeah, well,” he mutters, voice low, “you’re good at it.”
The rest of the drive unfolds quietly. The city disappears into quieter streets, then into the empty echo of the parking garage. When the sensor light flickers on, it casts a harsh white glow on his face, the same face that women melt over.
He parks, kills the engine, and leans back with a sigh that sounds almost tired. “Another trip coming up, I assume.”
“Yeah.” I force my voice steady. “Actually… I fly out in two days.”
He scoffs, eyes still on the dash. “Of course you do.”
“It’s work.”
“Right.” His lips twist into a smirk that doesn’t touch his eyes. “Whatever you say, Layla.”
I unbuckle slowly, the click echoing like punctuation. My purse strap slips off my shoulder as I open the door. Cool night air pours in, fresh and unfamiliar.
Closing the door with a dull thud, I stand there for a moment, breathing in the quiet, the space, and the fragile sense that the world outside this garage still belongs to me.
Two days.
Just forty-eight hours until I can breathe again.
reed
. . .
Two days.
That’s how long until she’s back.
Even just thinking her name feels wrong. Like saying it out loud might summon something I can’t control.
She’s engaged.
I shouldn’t be counting down the hours. I shouldn’t be thinking about her smile, her laugh, or the way her eyes looked when she left Ruby Ridge.
But I am.
Because selfishness has a voice, and it’s been whispering louder every damn night.
Fuck it.
I run a hand down my face, feeling the rough ridges of scar tissue; uneven, raised, still warm sometimes when the fire burns too hot.
My home’s quiet, except for the crackle of the fireplace.
The firelight flickers on the photograph on the mantel—Mama and me, the summer I left for Los Angeles. Her arm is around my waist, her head tilted against my chest, both of us grinning.
She’d been so damn proud.
“Be brave, baby,” she’d said, pressing her palm to my cheek. “But be careful. You don’t gotta save the whole world to make me proud.”
I never got to tell her she was right.
She died two weeks after I left for the academy. Maverick was the one who called, his voice breaking on the words. Carter told me not to come home.
“It’s what she’d want, Reed. You stay. Finish what you started.”
