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“He’ll never stop looking,” I sob. “He’ll never give up. It’s gonna kill him.”
“Is that the hardest part for you? Not that you’ll never get to see him again, but that he’s going to spend the rest of his life upset and looking?”
I tighten my arms around my legs. “I think so, maybe. Yeah.”
“Have you spoken to Jake about it?”
“I asked this morning if I could see him. He said no.”
“But that’s not what you need most. You just need to talk to him or somehow let him know you’re okay. You just need to give him that peace. Maybe Jake can figure out a way to give that.”
Hope ignites in my chest. “You think so?”
“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”
I grin. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
I’m floating on my back in the pool, mind turning, when I hear Jake say, “There’s my boy.”
A smile twitches along my lips, but it doesn’t manage to stick. My heart races as I straighten in the pool and run a hand through my soaked hair. Jake’s crouched at the edge, his elbows on his knees. He’s not smiling either.
“Hi,” I say softly, unable to get my body to move toward him. It feels like I already know the answer to my question. Like maybe I shouldn’t even risk asking it.
“How was Dr. Singh?”
“Hard, but… alright.” I look down at the water. It feels safer, and I hate that. I hate Jake not feeling safe. “We talked about my thoughts that I told you about. The… suicide stuff.”
The soft sound he makes is enough to get me to look up again, my heart aching at the utter relief in his expression. “I’m proud of you, Case. That must have been really fucking hard.”
“I - yeah.” I force myself to move through the water until I’m close enough to reach for him. My arms are frozen at my sides though. It doesn’t matter. The moment I’m within reach, he’s putting a hand out to me, gripping the back of my neck and pulling me until my stomach is up against the tiled siding of the pool, my damp temple resting on his knee. He moves his hand so his thumb can stroke my jawline. I suck in a breath that feels water-logged. “We talked about my dad.”
He nods, not surprised. He looks unbelievably sad. “I’m so sorry...”
“I was thinking…” I pause, looking at him to gauge his reaction. It’s not a great one, his entire expression going tight like the possibility of what I might ask is causing him pain. It’s worth a try, Dr. Singh’s voice whispers in the back of my mind. “Could I just call my dad? Really quick? On a burner phone or something. Like we did with Maison? Or - or I could even send him a letter or-”
“No,” Jake says, his voice gravelly and pained. “No, Casey, you can’t contact him at all.”
“But Carter got to call Maison.”
“Maison had the security clearance. He was a fellow operative. It’s different, baby boy.”
A sharp anger bursts in my chest. I stumble away, turning my back to him. I feel his hand stutter against my shoulder like he’s trying to catch me before it slips off. It hurts. Burns like his touch was acidic. “I get it.”
“Casey-”
“I’m going to swim for a while longer.”
He’s quiet for a long time before releasing a shaky sigh. “I’ll stay. We don’t have to talk, but I’m going to stay.”
“You don’t have to.”
“No, but I’m going to.” I hear the creak of a lounge chair, like he’s taking a seat or laying down. My stomach twists and turns. “You can be mad at me. You can even yell at me. But I’m staying.”
It hurts, and it doesn’t hurt, and I don’t know what to do with any of that. I duck my head under the pool’s surface and let the rush of water against my ears dull my thoughts.
I consider not coming up for air.
Maybe Jake is distracted on his phone? Maybe he’s not watching? Would he forgive me for doing something like that right in front of him? Would Carter be okay? Would they be willing to dump my body somewhere so my dad could find out and get closure? Should I do this a different way, so I get a chance to write a note first asking them to do that?
