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“By the way, the Mexico thing wouldn’t have worked, anyway,” I add, glancing at him. He finally turns his attention to me and frowns. “They’re not granting asylum any longer.”
He gives me a small nod and continues to stare at me.
I finally raise an eyebrow. “Is something wrong?” I ask.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m truly sorry that they’re doing this. It’s not right.”
I’m stunned at his confession, confused at what made him change his mind.
“You already knew this was happening,” I mumble.
“Not all of it,” he adds. “I didn’t know thatEden…”
His voice trails off and he turns his attention back to the television, the grainy footage of the Omega replaying.
He lookshauntedas he watches it, as if he’ll be sick to his stomach.
“Are you alright?” I ask, as he turns quickly to me, his expression back to neutral.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” he murmurs. “I came up here to tell you.”
Something isverywrong with Brock, and I shouldn’t care, but I do.
The man is letting me stay in his house, putting himself at risk, and when he looks like this…
“Will you walk me down?” I ask, giving him a smile.
And for a moment, his amber eyes brighten.
