“Mom has hobbies. She has anxiety and casserole.”
I bit back a smile and hoisted my tote bag higher onto my shoulder. “Tell Mom I love her casserole.”
“I’ll tell her you’re deflecting.”
“That too.”
Sophie propped her chin on her hand. “Are you ever going to tell us the exact address?”
The pause that followed was brief. Not long enough for most people to catch.
Long enough for Sophie.
Her expression changed at once, the mischief draining into something softer, older. She had always noticed more than people gave her credit for.
“You still think he’ll try something?” she asked quietly.
I looked out the narrow window beside the door at the flat gray of the Boston morning.
“I think men like him don’t enjoy not knowing where people are.”
That was the most I had ever said out loud, and even then it felt like too much.
Sophie went quiet, but then, because she was Sophie and refused to let anything stay heavy for too long, she said, “Well, if he comes near you, I’ll hit him with a crutch.”
I smiled. “Very intimidating.”
“It is aluminum. That’s basically a weapon.”
“That is the most reassuring thing I’ve heard all week.”
She grinned, pleased with herself.
Growing up with Sophie had taught me a hundred things I wished more people understood. That help offered badly could be as exhausting as no help at all. That independence sometimes looked messy. That being slower at one thing did not mean being helpless at all things. That pity was its own kind of rudeness.
Mostly, it had taught me to ask before assuming.
Which was probably why the man in the library had stayed in my head all week.
Not because he had a cane. Not because of the slight drag in his gait.
Because nothing about him had invited pity, and for one stupid, electric moment I liked that he seemed to know I would never offer it.
Sophie’s voice sharpened. “Wait.”
I blinked. “What?”
“That face.”
“What face?”
“The one that means there’s gossip and you’re being weirdly private about it.”
“There is no gossip.”
“Emily.”
“There is no gossip,” I repeated. “I am hanging up now because unlike some people, I have actual work to do.”
