Page 232 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“Get the fuck off me.”

“Ronan.”

“No.”

He reached for the handle. Elliot stepped between him and the door. Ronan stared.

“Move.”

“No.”

“Move.”

“I can explain.”

The words stopped everything. Ronan’s hand lowered. For several seconds, he heard nothing except his own heartbeat. Then:

“Explain what?”

Elliot swallowed. Ronan watched his throat move.

“Elliot.”

“I need you to listen.”

“To what?”

“Everything.”

Ronan laughed again. It sounded worse this time.

“Everything.”

“Yes.”

“How much fucking everything is there?”

Elliot didn’t answer. Ronan looked at the storage-room door. Then at him.

“Is the mask in there?”

Silence.

“Answer.”

“Yes.”

The room shifted. Not physically. Ronan felt it anyway. A clean fracture through reality. Before that answer, there had still been room. Room for confusion. Room for coincidence. Room for whoever had been tormenting them to have planted everything. Room for Elliot to be exactly what Ronan had spent weeks insisting he was. After it, there was less. Ronan stared.

“The mask from the footage?”

Elliot’s eyes moved.

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t fucking do that.”

“I mean it.”