I ignore it, staring at the varnished wood.
“Open the door, Hazel.”
I don’t listen, but I also don’t move from my spot on the other side of the painted wood.
Flynn’s voice filters through the door. “Want to hear a joke?”
A paper laugh slips from my lips and I rest my forehead against the wood. “Sure,” I say, quietly.
“What happened to the spaghetti that got burnt?”
“I don’t know Flynn, what happened to the spaghetti that got burnt?”
“It pasta-way.”
I open the door. “That’s dreadful.”
He smiles at me. “Worked though.”
“Debatable.” I’m still tempted to close the door again but then Flynn holds up a bag I didn’t see before, and the scent of Chinese takeout has my stomach growling.
“Hungry?”
Don’t be the blonde girl in the horror film, Hazel. Say no. Close the door.
I step back and let Flynn pass.
He’s brought almost a dozen dishes and the boxes cover the table by the time we’ve unpacked them all. I’m too hungry to overthink my bad decisions so I grab us both a plate and we dig in.
Just because he’s here, it doesn’t mean we have to talk though. I decide to spend the whole time ignoring him in protest but apparently Flynn has other ideas.
“So… Canada?”
My chopsticks freeze midair. “How do you…”
Flynn clucks his tongue, his gaze soft and scolding. “The cameras have audio, remember?”
Right. Of course. I stab a chopstick into a chicken ball. I should tell him to go fuck himself. I should makehimtellmewhere the cameras are. I should sneak into the bathroom and call the police.
911 what’s your emergency?
Hi there, I just wanted to let you know that I’m currently having dinner with the Vigilante Choker. Okay thanks, byeee.
I don’t do any of those things.
“My mom grew up on Vancouver Island. I was so young when she was killed, I never really knew her.” I shrug and push thenoodles around my plate. “When I was thirteen my gran gave me my mom’s diaries because she thought it might help. She had a whole life in Canada, so many stories of places and people. I always said I’d move there so I could see it for myself.”
Flynn puts down his chopsticks. “Do you miss her?”
I nod, pressure building under my eyes. “Of course.”
“So, if Canada is the plan, why are you still here?”
The words stick in my throat. How do I explain to him that Tommy left me broken? That I was only just putting myself back together when my gran died?
I point my chopsticks at him, turning the question back on him instead. “Why areyoustill here? Shouldn’t you be off on some island without extradition by now?”
I don’t know the ins and outs of being a criminal, but I’m pretty sure escaping from prison only to skulk around Seattle wasn’t Flynn’s original plan.
