Page 526 of End Game

Then she steps back and looks me over. “You look tired.”

“I am.”

“Are you sleeping?”

“Mom.”

“What?”

“Seven seconds.”

Her expression shifts. “What?”

“That's how long it took you to start medically assessing me.”

“I asked if you're sleeping.”

Clay walks past us. “She has a point.”

Mom glares at him.

Traitor status apparently transfers quickly.

Dad comes from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

His gaze lands on Griffin.

Then me.

Then our joined hands.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Dad.”

He hugs me next, gentler than Mom.

When he pulls back, Griffin offers his hand. “Griffin.”

Dad takes it. “Mark.”

Mom's attention bounces between us again.

I can practically hear the gears turning. “This is the roommate?”

I close my eyes.

Clay coughs into his fist.

Griffin somehow keeps a straight face.

“One of them,” I say.

Mom blinks.

There is no good way to recover from that sentence.

So I don't try.