Page 153 of Faultlines
“What?” I say as I continue gathering files.
“Claire already thinks you’re incapable of respecting boundaries.”
I sling my bag over my shoulder.
He sighs. “At least text me when she throws something at your head, or take a video.”
“That’s friendship.”
“No,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Friendship is documenting your final moments for future generations.”
Ten minutes later, my truck’s engine rumbles to life, and I turn in the direction of Juniper House. The farther I drive, the better the idea sounds. Reid is correct, I can work from anywhere; the office doesn’t require my physical presence.
I pull into the parking lot, convinced this is an excellent plan. That confidence lasts until I walk through the front doors.
I find Claire standing near the reception desk, talking with Marisol and two other staff members. They all glance up at the sound of the door opening, and their conversation abruptly stops.
Claire’s gaze darts from my face to my briefcase, and back to me, and her expression darkens. “Whatever this is, no,” she says as she circles her finger in my direction.
I glance at Marisol, who is biting back a smile. “I feel like we’re missing some details.”
Claire points directly at my stuff. “What is all of that?”
“My work.”
“What are you doing?”
The smile threatening to appear on my face probably isn’t helping. “I’ve decided to work remotely for a while.”
“Remotely.”
“Yes.”
“Here.”
“Yes.”
She folds her arms. “Ethan.”
I gesture around us. “This building has internet access. You won’t even know I’m here.”
Marisol makes a suspicious choking noise.
Claire whirls toward her, eyes flashing. “Stop encouraging him.”
“I’m not encouraging him.”
“You’re smiling.”
“I’m smiling because this is objectively funny.”
“It is not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
Claire lets out a frustrated breath and closes her hand around the pendant at her neck. I almost feel guilty, and then I remember the threats.
“You know,” Marisol says casually, “there’s an empty room in the basement.”
