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“Fair enough.” She ate her last bite of pie and accepted that years of overplaying the older sister knows better card made his attitude inevitable.
“Don’t worry, sis. The whole black ops thing may not work out, and I could decide to become a freelancer.
“I guess that could be interesting. Your skills have to be in high demand, and I imagine you could work with just about anyone at any price you named.”
“Tell me about it,” he murmured.
“That sounds like you’ve already had some offers.” She narrowed her gaze. “And questionable ones at that.”
“I’m not ready to talk about it.”
Tapping her fingers on the table, she exhaled slowly. “At least tell me if the offers are legitimate. And legal.” She leaned forward. “Will I be able to defend your actions in court?”
“Don’t be dramatic.” He crossed his arms. “The NSA doesn’t always play by the rules, and I’ve decided the only measuring stick I will use going forward is my conscious.”
“I just think…”
“Don’t bother drowning me in a counterargument because you’ve made similar choices and color well outside the lines when necessary.”
She thought about the case she’d lost and the people she’d let down. Going after Big Pharma often meant a one-in-a-thousand chance of prevailing, but that didn’t mean the defeat was any easier to get over. “Perhaps I should’ve been more aggressive with those crayons because the case that I lost allowed the company to walk away without a scratch despite all the evidence.”
“It’s not over until it’s over. You’ll get another shot because a pharmaceutical behemoth doesn’t change its ways. Before too long, they will be back to their old tricks, and you’ll have another chance to set things right.”
“Funny that you should mention that…”
“Did you get a call from Gretchen?”
She nodded, thinking about her mentor. “They are in the discovery phase of a new class action lawsuit involving the same drug company.”
Nathan leaned forward. “Are you moving back to DC?”
“No.” She refolded her napkin. “I’m doing important work here and don’t want to abandon my clients just so I can chase an old ghost.”
“Are you confident that you can let it go because you’ve never been one to walk away from a fight?”
“I’m trying to be sure since I’ve somehow managed the impossible and achieved a little balance. If I go back to DC, that will disappear.”
“I don’t have much use for balance.” Nathan shrugged. “I prefer to be up to my elbows in the fight.”
“Me too,” she said quietly, knowing that ignoring her mentor's offer would be damn near impossible. She looked out the kitchen window and heard the distant sound of an airplane. “Do you think our need to go hard in our professional lives is a way of avoiding the messier emotions of relationships?”
“Of course. How else would we deal with the shit show that was our childhood? It’s much easier to chase the external big bad wolf than dig into our wounded psyches and untangle all the complex trauma lurking there.”
Smiling, she covered her brother’s hand. “When you hit the nail on the head, you don’t mess around.”
“I’m not illiterate when it comes to emotional intelligence. I just don’t have the desire to dig into the muck and mire. I think that sort of thing is best left where it is.”
“You may be right. I’ve been slogging through the emotional swamp for a while and have yet to make much progress.” She sat up straight. “But I won’t give up because the last thing I want is a colorless future. And if I keep playing it safe and avoiding opportunities for a deeper connection, that’s exactly what I’ll have.”
“I think the minute you quit fiddling in other people’s lives, you’ll have more than enough free time to figure out who the deeper connection should be with.” He cut another piece of pie and placed it in the center of his plate. “There are over eight billion people on the planet, so there’s got to be one or two who’d tolerate your quirks.” He adjusted his plate. “There might even be one living next door.”
“Teague is my friend.” She stood and collected some dishes, pushing away the idea that they could be more. “And there’s no reason to mess with the status quo.”
“Unless it could be a million times better.”
Ignoring her brother’s sudden need to become a sage, she strode toward the sink and heard her inner voice suggest there might be a grain of truth in the statement.
Not that she’d do anything about it. Life was already complicated enough without adding a tryst with her neighbor into the mix.
