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“Sorry, O. I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’ve turned into a robot. It’s all about the mission and nothing else. Do you think no one notices you up at zero three hundred, toiling away while the rest of us are smart enough to rest?”
“Two things, my friend. First, you’re overstepping. Second, you have a lot of nerve, calling me out on something you have done throughout your entire career.”
She sat on the grass and motioned for me to do the same. “Are you under the impression I don’t know what’s really going on here? I have done precisely what you’re doing for most of my career. That means I get it, Jaicon. I know you’re keeping busy so you can avoid looking at what’s not working in the rest of your life.”
“And here I thought I left the zen master in Mexico,” I muttered. “Go ahead and enlighten me, wise one.”
She smirked. “The zen master, eh?”
“Of course that’s what you’d pick up on.”
“He’s the reason you’re a robot.”
I got to my feet. “I’ve had enough, Oleander. Don’t attempt to manufacture another mystery since what you’re working on isn’t going well.”
She grabbed my wrist. “It’s four years this week.”
“Do you think I’m unaware of how long my husband’s been gone?” Oleander didn’t know about the baby I’d lost, and I had no intention of telling her, or anyone else, for that matter.
“Zeppelin said you lit up when you were around Tryst.”
“Zeppelin can sod off. You as well.” I tried to shake free from her grasp, but she wouldn’t let go.
“Jacy, it’s been four bloody years. You’re thirty-two years old—”
“Thirty-three.”
“Thank you for making my argument stronger. You’re three and thirty and have spent the last eight months throwing yourself so deeply into work there’s no room for anyone or anything else.”
“Again, you do the same thing, O.”
“We aren’t talking about me.”
This time, I wrenched my arm away hard enough for her to let go. “We aren’t talking about me, either.”
“Do you honestly believe Edmund would approve of what you’re doing with your life?” she shouted after me.
“Edmund is dead,” I hollered back.
She ran around in front of me. “Precisely my point. He is dead. You are not. Although you might as well be.”
“Fuck off, O.”
She grabbed my arms. “Maybe I would if I didn’t care about you as much as I do. But it’s too late for that. You’re my best mate, and I hate to see you so miserable.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Go back to Mexico.”
“This from the woman who begged me to come to Shere?”
“You aren’t as much help as I thought you’d be.”
“I have no reason to return. Plus, that ship has sailed, as they say.”
“I’ll give you a reason. You will be far more effective at looking for traffickers out of Mexico if you’re actually in Mexico.”
