"Yes."
"Hope." She sets her glass down. "Is that even safe? Has he hurt people?"
"He's a patient. Maximum security. Convicted of—" I stop. Shake my head. "It doesn't matter what he's convicted of. What matters is that I was supposed to be neutral, and I'm not."
"It matters a little bit, babe. It matters if he could hurt you."
"I don't think he would."
"You don'tthink—"
"He's had chances, Mish. Dozens of them. We've been alone together, he's been close enough to—" I stop again because I can hear how it sounds. "He's never once made me feel unsafe. Not for a second."
She watches me for a long moment, chewing the inside of her cheek the way she does when she's deciding whether to push harder or let it go.
"Is he good to you?"
"He is. In ways I didn't know I wanted."
Mishel sets down her wine glass. Leans forward.
"Hope. I've known you since we were kids. I watched you organize your Barbies by career path. I watched you study for tests that weren't happening for three months. I watched you become this terrifying, competent, professional person while I was still figuring out how to pay my electric bill on time."
"Mish—"
"Let me finish." Her voice is firm. "In all that time, in all those years of watching you be perfect at everything, I have never once seen you do something that wasn't thought through. So if you're telling me you got close to someone you shouldn't have gotten close to, I'm guessing you have reasons. Real ones. Not just feelings."
My throat tightens.
"He's not what the file says he is," I say quietly. "The facility—they're not treating him. They're punishing him. Nobody notices, nobody cares. I walked in there to do a job and ended up seeing him as a person. And now I can't unsee it."
"Okay." Mishel pulls her legs tighter under her. "But how does that even work? Stolen moments in a psych ward? That's not a relationship, girl, that's a hostage situation with feelings."
"His lawyer is trying to get him out. There's a real case, a real path. It's not—it's not impossible."
"So there's a future in this. Potentially."
"Potentially."
She's quiet for a moment. Then: "You said the lawyer's involved. What's he like?"
I take a long sip of wine. "Tall. Sharp. Irritatingly attractive."
Mishel's eyebrows climb. "Hope."
"And the security guard at the facility took me on a date last week and kissed me in a parking lot."
She stares at me. Her wine glass hovers halfway to her mouth.
"I'm sorry—theguard? So there's the patient, the lawyer,anda guard?"
"I'll tell you more when I've worked it out."
"When you'veworked it out." She sets her glass down and presses both hands to her face. "Hope Turner, you've had three dates in the last two years and now you're telling me there arethree men?"
"Potentially, three men. Can we talk about something else?"
"Absolutely not. Gah fine. For now." She drops her hands and reaches for mine, squeezing hard. "Just promise me you're eating actual food and sleeping actual hours and not burning yourself down for a system that doesn't deserve you."
