Page 272

“I like it.”

Something shifts in his expression. It’s slight, and gone almost immediately.

I look around the kitchen. “You need to decorate.”

His expression closes. “What?”

I lift my cuffed hand slightly. “This place needs some warmth. Something… personal.”

His eyes stay on mine. “I’m not staying here long term.”

I glance toward the living room. “There's nothing here.”

“There's furniture.”

“It came with the house.”

“So?”

“So there's nothing that's yours.”

His jaw tightens. “There's food.”

“Bananas aren't a personality.”

“They're food.”

“You don't have pictures. Books. Decorations. A blanket. A stupid mug. Anything.”

“I don't need any of that shit.”

I look at him. “You could leave tomorrow.”

His face gives me nothing.

He doesn't answer.

My chest tightens. “You could pack everything you actually care about into one bag and disappear.”

“That's the point.”

The words hit harder than I expect.

I look down at the handcuff around my wrist. For once, I don't have a joke.

Roman shifts. The towel moves.

Okay. I have one joke. But I don't make it.

Progress.

I look back at him. “You're not planning to stay in Hollow Creek?”

“No.”

I knew that. Hearing it shouldn't bother me.

It does.